Given to the 305 Board of Education and those invovled with the LIFT scholarship in April 2007.
Given the chance to speak before my future employers, my family, and those who have helped make me able to walk this path of teaching, it took me awhile to decide what I would say. I could speak about my past, all the wonderful opportunities and experiences I was enriched by in Salina, the way I felt Bethany has prepared me for the next step in my life, or the upcoming challenges I will face as a teacher. I settled on a topic that I believe will be a cornerstone in my teaching philosophy: the necessity of an open hope.
Open hope might seem like an odd phrase, so I will help you understand what I mean. By hope I mean optimism. Faith in the student, the system, and my own abilities. A persistent adamant endurance in believing I can make an impact, and with that positive impact on their lives my students will make a difference. By open I mean that this hope, while persistent, should never be dogmatic. In hoping for positive impact, I need to open to the many unpredictable ways impact will be made on both the students and myself. Then in being open, I cannot predict what differences my students will make, and it is not my job to mould their future world. Instead my hope will be an enabler to my students, equipping them to confront and transform a world beyond any rational conceptualization. In having an open hope I will not take the students hand and pull them through my class, I will instead open a door and give the bright light of optimism not only through the door, but if I do my job as desired, also illuminating hope in windows I myself cannot see.
I chose to teach English because the subject itself carries a certain mystique for me. Inside any story are multiple histories of character, author, and reader. The house of literature is built with many entrances and exists, and each reader will find a different point of interest stemming from their own multiple histories and perspective. Through literature a reader, student or teacher, can find enlightenment on the hidden recesses of themselves and decode future potentialities that would be lost without the journey of reading discovery. Reading is a journey of the mind, and I await the day when I can ask my student to go farther into the text, deeper into the symbolism, think critically about issues that matter to their own individual lives.
Not only will I be inviting students to discover literature, but I will be able to equip with the lifelong skills of grammar, careful reading, and the ability to express themselves clearly. No student should enter the after high school world feeling unable to discern the language around them. Too much of the world relies on linguistic communication for me to not give my full effort in preparing my students to be able to think, question, and reason in the English language.
As a teacher I will get enjoyment out of working with literary texts, and I will benefit my students as good citizens by enhancing their language skills, but the biggest and most important aspect of my position as a teacher will be that I foster in my students a desire to learn; that in my class they find the need to question, and that by my open hope and encouragement they find themselves willing to think deeply about the world around them and question where meaning is, what their place is, and what they can do to make a positive impact on their surroundings.
I am very grateful for the Salina Education Foundation and the Loan Initiative for Future Teachers. I am excited about the opportunity to return to USD 305 and teach. My mind has been swirling blissfully chaotic around the amazing range of possibilities ahead of me. I’d like to thank my teachers for preparing me with challenging assignments, encouraging comments in non-red pen, and the faith that I can succeed in my dreams. I thank Daniel for having the patience to put up with my busy schedule and the amazing supportive love that is always there for me. Most of all I thank my parents for raising me with more love than discipline, more freedom then punishment, and more blessings then I could ever return. I owe all the good things I am lucky enough to get to the wonderful job you did in raising your children. Thank you all and I am looking forward to the day I step in the classroom as an educator for USD 305.
Friday, November 30, 2007
River Running Passionate and Strong
River running passionate and strong
Over the course a rock… or two
The stream moves forward
Ever moving and yet unchanging
For this Water is in Truth
We walked along the river bank
Skimming the wetness while moving along
Breathing in the air around us
Not yet singing the Water’s song
Dipping our toes to know only of potential
Currents ran with powered fate
Toe dipping transformed into a wade
Called by natural affinity to waters true
Along the banks of polluted and stagnant ponds
Skipping in and out the river’s peace
Refreshment found… a brief reprieve
Then back again to the grinding scene
Is such water our only breath?
This the question we to ourselves did test
And yet the beckon: come in to waters true
Careless children, we dirtied ourselves
Running in through darkened forests
Grimed of mud and cut by nice smelling pine
Instead of water, to breathe in wine!
Forest dark and dreary, stepped upon and now are weary
Forget the forest and it’s besmirch
Dive in the pond together… it works!
Swim walled in by the earthly on all sides
Live here in love, anger, and lies
Into the mossy and stagnant pond
Swim lively, swim cold… Tired? It’s old.
The earth closes in on the breadth of the pond
Wounds of old plagued by moss and stagnation
Discovered from one to another… tribulation!
Trapped in a body where sickness breeds
Let it go! I Love. Give Water True to me.
We leave the sick pond in tears and shame
But there is one river to wash us clear again
Here we leave by choice, from pond to river.
The pond is our past…
and now we seek that which will ever last.
The river runs deep and ever forward.
The source of which is one Holy Sword
Immersed in God’s stream is the home of true love
Where sin and resentment come white as the dove
On the edge I won’t stand. Here! One valiant leap!
Into the current, away with the past
Swim with me together, ever be my guard
Delivered unto Truth… we can no longer stand
Instead we are humbled, love is a different brand
River running passionate and strong
Over the course a rock… or two
The stream moves forward
Ever moving and yet unchanging
For this Water is in Truth.
Over the course a rock… or two
The stream moves forward
Ever moving and yet unchanging
For this Water is in Truth
We walked along the river bank
Skimming the wetness while moving along
Breathing in the air around us
Not yet singing the Water’s song
Dipping our toes to know only of potential
Currents ran with powered fate
Toe dipping transformed into a wade
Called by natural affinity to waters true
Along the banks of polluted and stagnant ponds
Skipping in and out the river’s peace
Refreshment found… a brief reprieve
Then back again to the grinding scene
Is such water our only breath?
This the question we to ourselves did test
And yet the beckon: come in to waters true
Careless children, we dirtied ourselves
Running in through darkened forests
Grimed of mud and cut by nice smelling pine
Instead of water, to breathe in wine!
Forest dark and dreary, stepped upon and now are weary
Forget the forest and it’s besmirch
Dive in the pond together… it works!
Swim walled in by the earthly on all sides
Live here in love, anger, and lies
Into the mossy and stagnant pond
Swim lively, swim cold… Tired? It’s old.
The earth closes in on the breadth of the pond
Wounds of old plagued by moss and stagnation
Discovered from one to another… tribulation!
Trapped in a body where sickness breeds
Let it go! I Love. Give Water True to me.
We leave the sick pond in tears and shame
But there is one river to wash us clear again
Here we leave by choice, from pond to river.
The pond is our past…
and now we seek that which will ever last.
The river runs deep and ever forward.
The source of which is one Holy Sword
Immersed in God’s stream is the home of true love
Where sin and resentment come white as the dove
On the edge I won’t stand. Here! One valiant leap!
Into the current, away with the past
Swim with me together, ever be my guard
Delivered unto Truth… we can no longer stand
Instead we are humbled, love is a different brand
River running passionate and strong
Over the course a rock… or two
The stream moves forward
Ever moving and yet unchanging
For this Water is in Truth.
Friendship of Edification
Friendship of Edification
Colors fade as days pass,
Interests come and go.
Chitter-chatter and light banter,
College life you know?
Yearn for deeper, hope for more.
Searching to find value,
Waiting for the open door.
Enter, exit, just passing through.
Life delay…
We’re here to be somewhere else.
Here and now…
What is there but fun?
Whisper softly: There is more.
Can you find it?
Is it there?
How deep do you breathe in search of air?
Inspiration
Relief, reprieve – solid meaning.
I found it, its here.
I know because you care.
Deep conversation, soul stimulation.
Unraveled knowing, I AM growing.
Here and now, we are.
Friendship gives us solid ground,
Roots beneath our feet.
I am here and I belong…
I can feel it when you’re with me.
Friendships are the core to value,
For it gives us means to hope.
Living more then the flow of time.
We have a friendship of edification,
You give me inspiration.
Colors fade as days pass,
Interests come and go.
Chitter-chatter and light banter,
College life you know?
Yearn for deeper, hope for more.
Searching to find value,
Waiting for the open door.
Enter, exit, just passing through.
Life delay…
We’re here to be somewhere else.
Here and now…
What is there but fun?
Whisper softly: There is more.
Can you find it?
Is it there?
How deep do you breathe in search of air?
Inspiration
Relief, reprieve – solid meaning.
I found it, its here.
I know because you care.
Deep conversation, soul stimulation.
Unraveled knowing, I AM growing.
Here and now, we are.
Friendship gives us solid ground,
Roots beneath our feet.
I am here and I belong…
I can feel it when you’re with me.
Friendships are the core to value,
For it gives us means to hope.
Living more then the flow of time.
We have a friendship of edification,
You give me inspiration.
Crackle, Zip, and Drip
Crackle, twist, bend,
Snap and break.
Oh the messy leaves of
My life I rake!
School here, work there
Money, grades… grades and money…
Buzz, Zip
Azzzoooom!
Honey comb and hive!
Oh buzzing bees
Swarm me, swarm free!
Friends, teammates, clubs
And a love…
Is there difference
between bee and dove?
Drip, paoop, whshwww,
Crashing wave upon the shore
Frivolous? Frivolous no more!
Give me that ocean
Immerse me in depth
Submerge me in meaning
Eureka, My Soul!
The falling leaves of achievement,
Inanimate objects gone in a season.
Social buzzing around,
Individuals and groups surrounding me
Oh but deep blue,
depth of the eye
Window to the soul
In that am I,
I am in that.
Rough, turbulent, untamable sea
Such is the passionate youth in me
Calm, tranquil, serene pond
Mirror my connection to a deeper bond
Frozen ice, magnificent glacier
Be my potential, my unused nature!
Water deep, water blue
If only we knew!
Shape and form?
We are more!
Expansive possibilities
Metamorphose and change
World of potential
Ocean of range!
Crackle, Zip, and Drip
Push, pull and still
Frivolous, noise, chatter…
What more?
Everything! Everything!
Be that and more!
Snap and break.
Oh the messy leaves of
My life I rake!
School here, work there
Money, grades… grades and money…
Buzz, Zip
Azzzoooom!
Honey comb and hive!
Oh buzzing bees
Swarm me, swarm free!
Friends, teammates, clubs
And a love…
Is there difference
between bee and dove?
Drip, paoop, whshwww,
Crashing wave upon the shore
Frivolous? Frivolous no more!
Give me that ocean
Immerse me in depth
Submerge me in meaning
Eureka, My Soul!
The falling leaves of achievement,
Inanimate objects gone in a season.
Social buzzing around,
Individuals and groups surrounding me
Oh but deep blue,
depth of the eye
Window to the soul
In that am I,
I am in that.
Rough, turbulent, untamable sea
Such is the passionate youth in me
Calm, tranquil, serene pond
Mirror my connection to a deeper bond
Frozen ice, magnificent glacier
Be my potential, my unused nature!
Water deep, water blue
If only we knew!
Shape and form?
We are more!
Expansive possibilities
Metamorphose and change
World of potential
Ocean of range!
Crackle, Zip, and Drip
Push, pull and still
Frivolous, noise, chatter…
What more?
Everything! Everything!
Be that and more!
Zachariah The Poet, a Children's Poem
Words grand and small,
Artistic and true
Zachariah, he commanded them all
And better than you
Poems and short stories
Finger paints on the fridge
Zach wrote of great glories
Exaggerations? …just a smidge.
You see, Zachariah thought himself
a great man of talent
Whirling and twirling, creating and painting
Soliloquy, epic, fantasy,
and a tale a bit too tall…
His mother, she thought not of his skill,
But that her little boy had an unruly will.
This artist of hers…
he left great globs of paint and crayons words on her wall!
Unruly hair, papers strewn on the floor
Little kid hand writing up and down the door
He even stole her table cloth for a cape to recite
Imagination and creative power
For the mother… a mess
To Zachariah – Delight!
Free spirit be tame!
Clean up your mess, comb through your hair
Live under your mother’s reign
And those walls… Boy don’t write there!
Oh but mother, it is my love
To write free – free as a dove!
I write great stories, mamma look at my art
For in that is my truth… this is my heart!
Accept my transgressions,
Allow for my mess.
I down want regressions,
I won’t accept less.
Oh my boy… compromise but a little
Clean up your crayons
Don’t wear table cloths as capes…
Sure be an artist, but be clean for my sake!
No mother dearest, let my art be unbridled!
I’ll compromise nothing of imagination
You see it one day, if not in this hour
When they speak of great artists it is I they will name.
For if ever there was a greater poet…Well Zachariah, he didn’t know
Artistic and true
Zachariah, he commanded them all
And better than you
Poems and short stories
Finger paints on the fridge
Zach wrote of great glories
Exaggerations? …just a smidge.
You see, Zachariah thought himself
a great man of talent
Whirling and twirling, creating and painting
Soliloquy, epic, fantasy,
and a tale a bit too tall…
His mother, she thought not of his skill,
But that her little boy had an unruly will.
This artist of hers…
he left great globs of paint and crayons words on her wall!
Unruly hair, papers strewn on the floor
Little kid hand writing up and down the door
He even stole her table cloth for a cape to recite
Imagination and creative power
For the mother… a mess
To Zachariah – Delight!
Free spirit be tame!
Clean up your mess, comb through your hair
Live under your mother’s reign
And those walls… Boy don’t write there!
Oh but mother, it is my love
To write free – free as a dove!
I write great stories, mamma look at my art
For in that is my truth… this is my heart!
Accept my transgressions,
Allow for my mess.
I down want regressions,
I won’t accept less.
Oh my boy… compromise but a little
Clean up your crayons
Don’t wear table cloths as capes…
Sure be an artist, but be clean for my sake!
No mother dearest, let my art be unbridled!
I’ll compromise nothing of imagination
You see it one day, if not in this hour
When they speak of great artists it is I they will name.
For if ever there was a greater poet…Well Zachariah, he didn’t know
Poetry from CWC piece two
Two Storm Elements: Drizzle and Wind
Drizzle numbs
not caressing, not slapping –
simply cold.
Wind however whispers
allaying secrets
ensconced in darkness
tempting ears to brave drizzle.
Drizzle numbs
not caressing, not slapping –
simply cold.
Wind however whispers
allaying secrets
ensconced in darkness
tempting ears to brave drizzle.
Poetry from BC Creative Writing Club Meeting 11-29-07
Impact – Harmony
In the world we have two natures –
the voice that says “mine”
and the voice that does not speak because presence is unified
so that there is no one
to speak with.
‘mine’ carries a hammer
building bridges, wonders, and junk –
striking against the nail,
moving the object to its will.
The voice that does not speak,
in a paradox of voice…
Sings.
humming and buzzing in Tune
Producing a Harmony not often Heard
Within Identity;
Stroking piano keys inside a symphony.
The hammer seeks to mould;
the piano seeks to meld.
The impact of nails leaves scars in the wood.
The piano produces, is heard or ignored, and fades –
Enhancing the player through Practice.
Perhaps our builder screws into the wood
and realizes he has made a mistake…
he releases his binding
and has left:
a Screwed Board
-- too flawed for the next attempt.
Our musician plays his keys
and perhaps misses a note, but
his impact lacks destructive force.
He is now more practiced,
better equipped to once again try for Harmony
more able to contribute his Art.
so in Life I Choose –
I am not a builder hammering
out my vision
I am not a screwed board.
Rather I am
I am learning to play my notes,
Practicing my harmony production,
Gaining experience from the missed notes
Adding to the collective
Creative
And Malleable
Symphony of Life.
In the world we have two natures –
the voice that says “mine”
and the voice that does not speak because presence is unified
so that there is no one
to speak with.
‘mine’ carries a hammer
building bridges, wonders, and junk –
striking against the nail,
moving the object to its will.
The voice that does not speak,
in a paradox of voice…
Sings.
humming and buzzing in Tune
Producing a Harmony not often Heard
Within Identity;
Stroking piano keys inside a symphony.
The hammer seeks to mould;
the piano seeks to meld.
The impact of nails leaves scars in the wood.
The piano produces, is heard or ignored, and fades –
Enhancing the player through Practice.
Perhaps our builder screws into the wood
and realizes he has made a mistake…
he releases his binding
and has left:
a Screwed Board
-- too flawed for the next attempt.
Our musician plays his keys
and perhaps misses a note, but
his impact lacks destructive force.
He is now more practiced,
better equipped to once again try for Harmony
more able to contribute his Art.
so in Life I Choose –
I am not a builder hammering
out my vision
I am not a screwed board.
Rather I am
I am learning to play my notes,
Practicing my harmony production,
Gaining experience from the missed notes
Adding to the collective
Creative
And Malleable
Symphony of Life.
Tabula Rasa - Creative Philosophy
this is simple -
an excuse to write outside of my English Education and Philosophy dual major...
However, the thoughts will be complex- a liberation process of writing growth and understanding through exploration.
an excuse to write outside of my English Education and Philosophy dual major...
However, the thoughts will be complex- a liberation process of writing growth and understanding through exploration.
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