Posted on by Laura Lee

Some interesting or fun Facebook pages

smilies-funny-emoticon-faces-160760   Some interesting or fun Facebook pages

Some of these are closed groups; if you join, tell them Laura Lee sent you.

Wait, maybe not.

In no particular order:

Silent Book Club
–an active group of book lovers, vibrant civil discussions.

Cloud Enthusiasts
–because clouds are interesting

Cloud appreciation society
–more clouds! And it sounds cool to say you are a memember of the Cloud Appreciation Society.  Doesn’t it?

SoUL TrEEs
–because trees are important

Teachers for Social Justice
–because children and justice are important

Tuck Magazine
–an online political, human rights and arts magazine, because social justice and the arts are important.

Alt National Park Service
–because we love our national parks and care about the environment–plus we admire the pluckiness and courage of the founders of this site!

The Other 98%
–because it’s important to know

The Art Institute of Chicago
–it’s the AIC!

Chicago Symphony Orchestra
–it’s the CSO!

Chicago Shakespeare Theater
–Shakespeare & theater!

Kontras Quartet
–great musicians including the talented cousin Benjamin

Sandcatchers
Such interesting music that transcends genres!  One of sister’s husband’s groups. A warm and wild look into Jewish music over generations plus jazz…plus…. I don’t know how to describe it!

Estats Tonne Music
A modern troubador like nothing you’ve ever seen or heard… amazing history… listen. You won’t be sorry.  Love the incense on the guitar. AMAZING acoustic guitar player.

caFe’ hopeLess
–a closed group for creative writers, some I’ve known since 1999!  Refugees from the old MSN writing groups.

 

Posted on by Laura Lee

Walking in the Woods with FAST Walkers

trees large greenWhen I joined a walking in the woods group, I was pretty sure there would be both walking and the forest/ woods.  What I did not count on was the ferocious walking these ladies do!  I had to stop twice and then met them in the coffee shop where we stop after they walk–I’m already there.  Great encouragement for me to walk more!  I do enjoy exploring the woods, trees, plants by myself, but I don’t actually exercise much that way.  This way? I am HUSTLING to keep up.  There is room for tree-shopping and fast walking.  I am not quite a fast walker nor a long walker yet!  Let’s see what the loop walking does to me tomorrow! 

Posted on by Laura Lee

Train to No One

        trains black and white

From a year ago… places and memories…

I hold back, reluctant to get on the train. The train—a practical method of transportation. Leave the driving to us. Quick, mostly reliable. I can read during a train ride. I can daydream, as long as don’t fall asleep. Easy way to get to the new doctor’s office.

But the hold of place, the memory in the body of place.

This is where I used to get off the train and meet Earl, walk and walk and talk and talk away the day. We’d discuss teaching, life, family, everything and nothing. We’d talk about Ruth, his dearest friend for decades—how they loved one another but could not live together. We would go book shopping and I’d meet yet another member of his huge extended family. To meet Earl was to meet many wonderful people.

This is where I used to get off the train and meet Ruth, walk and walk and talk and talk away the day. We’d discuss teaching, life, family, everything and nothing. I helped edit her book, helped teach her about computers. We’d talk about Earl, her dearest friend for decades—how they loved one another but could not live together.

They are both gone now.

And I feel it in my body, this grief. And I get off the train to what—to no one.

I walk towards the doctor’s office, hoping he is busy and running late. I pass no bookstores on the way.

Train to no one.

Posted on by Laura Lee

Encirclement of Sparrows

sparrow-bird-animal-nature-86591This rough draft came out of a challenge to use the expression “an encirclement of birds”. 

(First draft)

Encirclement of Sparrows
 

Roar like a train through the living room
  extra blankets on windows, surely frozen shut.
  Power lines down
  heat off, lights off,
  all shut down.


 Move away from the windows, he said.
  I want to be near when the sun rises, she said,
  You know me and sunshine-- I’ve got to--
  I know he said,
  I know, and they
  huddled under yet another blanket and shut down.

Listen, she whispered,
  hours or days or moments later,
  I hear the sunrise.
 Gray light through the curtains, and then
  tap, tap, tap
 on the tree branches
  scraping the windows
  an encirclement of sparrows.

 

 

 

Posted on by Laura Lee

Prose Poem/ Didn’t Say Good-bye

bonfire

For the students:

Cool spring night in April. Red bud blooms just starting to soften, School nearly over— We wanted to say good bye.
 
A dozen gathered for fire and ghosts (We were too old for Ghost stories– We mostly laughed at them.) But huddled closer before the end of school We wanted to say good bye.
 
Nearly full moon peaked gold on the horizon, watching us, laughed at us a bit, hid back in the clouds then showed its silver side.  Showed up in our ghost stories–the hide and seek moon. We just wanted to say good bye.
 
Twelve, a dozen motley crew on a Saturday night, asking if it was time to go home, but no one wanted to leave the flames gold, flickering, magical like the moon’s silver— They held us in place. The talking stopped, But we were saying good bye.
 
I slipped away, knowing Mom needed me– I didn’t want to disturb them, my suddenly silent but free and sweet silver and gold friends.  Flames calling me back but Mom needed me. I didn’t get to say good bye.
 
I heard it, the explosion. Ran back but I was too late. Faces, arms, hands just gone. Explosion then sirens and crying, sobbing and smells and screams
 
I didn’t say good bye.
 
 
******************************************
For the students and their families, a made up story but the sentiment is sincere. I am so sorry for your pain, so young, so tragic. I keep thinking about how the young one’s lives, and the lives of their families, friends, school community, are changed utterly. I wish them well, wish they healing, but know such trauma, such injuries have long lasting effects. So I wrote a poem for them, a silly gesture, because I don’t know them, I won’t ever know them, but I can imagine being young in the night, right before the end of a school year….in the nearly full moon light, with the flickering fire before you…a night of silver and gold and them tragedy.
Posted on by Laura Lee

So Where are the Poems?

poetry-clipart-poetry_clipart  Okay, Laura, where are the poems?

Oh, yes. Not here.  While I mostly write poetry, I don’t share it much since I am trying to publish poetry.

I write a mostly non popular genre of poetry, dramatic monologues and narrative poetry.  It’s the story teller in me!  I do branch out to nature poetry as well.

I’ll be posting some, however, that has been soundly REJECTED by the very best sites–some so in need of work that it won’t read the same once I am done with the revisions~!

I will also post links to some of my favorite sites.  Right now, I don’t think any site publishes better modern poetry than Rattle.

And I’ve been rejected there for years, as have many of my poet friends and colleagues.  Rattle is also a great site for beginners as well as major prize winners.  They publish at least eight books a year, which is amazing, they pay their poets, and have numerous ways to be included in their site, which is outstanding.  Their Facebook website Rattle Facebook page provides opportunities to not only read great poetry, but to try out publishing.

More to follow~!

Posted on by Laura Lee

Teach to Kill? On Arming Teachers…

insprie teacher change  Before I begin, I acknowledge there are caring teachers who need to protect themselves from harm while teaching; I myself was hurt more than once, threatened more than once, and was assaulted once.  I was lucky and wasn’t hurt badly at all, but I recognize there are many teachers who risk their own safety every day.  I also recognize there are teachers who could successfully handle being armed in the classroom.  Not me, however. 

And now…

This topic is so important to me, I’ve written two poems about the concept of making our American schools safer by arming teachers.  One has been published in  https://www.amazon.com/Dear-Mr-President-Journal-Modern/dp/0692100644/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1527104908&sr=8-1&keywords=dear+mr+president+poetry+book

A more recent poem is out for consideration right now.

I cannot stop thinking about this–so much could go wrong. I’ve stopped my list at two dozen things that can go wrong with arming teachers!  While I do believe in some very rare circumstances perhaps a teacher could save a life or two, I believe this would be so rare that arming teachers would only make teachers, schools, and students possibly less SAFE.

I have also made a list of the many things my colleagues and I have done to try and make students safer; the list is very long.

Please don’t ask, expect, or rely on teachers to shoot dead.  Teach to kill?  I’m not sure I want to teach with someone able to make split second life and death decisions; I know I would not be able to do so!  I ponder everything, even simple things.

It would change the very nature of teaching and the teacher/ student relationship, which is founded on trust and respect.

When I taught in an urban area, I only half jokingly told my students I would take a bullet for them. I know I always kept my door locked, checked up on students I was worried about, tried to get them the professional services they needed, reported anything that looked dangerous at school, and more.  I do not even want to write down some of the things I did when I was terribly worried about kids–I look back now and wonder what I was thinking.

I wasn’t thinking. I was hoping if I stayed at school long enough, nothing bad could happen to these great kids.  That was magical thinking, as if I, who left each day and headed to my mostly safe suburban patio grading papers could someone change the reality of where they lived.

And they get to you, kids.  They get into your heart in a way I was not prepared for. Losing one?  The thought was terrifying.

So perhaps I would have taken a bullet, but fire one? I don’t know.  I’m such a nervous person no one should want me with a gun.  Hubby has said my most formidable weapon was my relentless caring and fast talking.  Me with a car is dangerous.

Please don’t put this on teachers who tend to enter the field to help others or to pursue and promote their discipline.  We are not trained law enforcement agents nor should we be asked if we have a FOID CARD.  Would that then be an unspoken new plus, being armed?

This HSP http://hsperson.com/ (me) could not live with myself if I shot and missed and killed an innocent person. Or if I left a class to pursue an active shooter and my kids got hurt.  Or if I did manage to kill a violent shooter? I would spend the rest of my life pondering the morality of this.  I know I would not pass the psychological evaluation to be a police officer!  I am a pro at teaching and mentoring, and I imagine I am not alone.

Please don’t put this on us!  To quote my own poem, please let us inspire students with other than guns.

We have an arsenal of skills to protect and inspire–please not with guns.

Posted on by Laura Lee

First Lines/ Where do they come from? Where do they go?

First lines–I think of first lines a lot as the day goes on.  Sometimes I imagine an opening scene from fiction.  Often times it’s a first line of a poem.  Something will grab me, a sight, a sound, a smell, a memory.  And then the storytelling starts in my mind.

I grew up with parents who were quite the storytellers.  I didn’t know until I was a teenager than many kids could ask a simple question and get a simple answer; I always got a story, and usually a long, convoluted, probably only partly true story.

All three of my siblings are storytellers.  My students say I tell a LOT of stories.

I love stories.

But it all starts with a few words, a phrase, a line or two.

And these are going through my head, a sort of off fairy tale tale of some sort or a poem?

And the child asked, “It cannot get any worse, can it?” And the big one answered, “Oh, yes, yes it can. It can get colder.”

Who knows where the lines will go.  Often they go nowhere, but they do become  a part of me.  These lines have been popping up for days now, so I think that child and that big one have a story to tell.

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