Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

Yesterday was a decent day. Church, then breakfast at the diner with Holly and G, then puttering around the house while Meg did some laundry. We got the spring/summer curtains up, and I have the pile of winter thermals to wash. No rush, though. And I got all my laundry caught up, too. G took Holly to her CCD class (last one of the year), then went to a meeting later on at work. I treated myself to a nice dinner from the new noodle place--so good. O my.  This week is likely going to be a very busy one; keeping things in order at work will be a priority. Vacation week is next week, and if you've ever taught seniors this time of year, you know what I mean. It's a challenge akin to herding cats.  I have no huge plans for vacation week, but it'll likely be some sort of cleaning/sorting/organizing thing, yard work if the weather behaves, and maybe a ball game? We'll see about that last one. If the weather is not going to cooperate, I'm not going to push the issue. We'...

I It's Sunday, 48 degrees, and raining. Again. Yesterday was a delightful reprieve; no rain. In the meantime, tree pollen and early flower pollen are making me itchy and sniffly, but hey, it's spring, and I'm not going to whinge about it.  How 'bout that word? I've been thinking about strange, rare, forgotten words again. I am a true nerd: I love etymology. I like to see how words happen, and how they change. One of my favorites is disgruntled . It's a negative of a word we no longer use, that being gruntled . And I love those words that do double duty, like cleave.   When I teach Robert Hayden's poem, " Those Winter Sundays ," kids always, always get hung up on the use of the word offices in the last stanza: "What did I know, what did I know/ of love's austere and lonely offices?" I then have to tell them about the monastic tradition of praying the holy hours, and how doing a quiet duty is an act of love.  I hope your day is calm, c...

UP, and enjoying a leisurely cup of coffee. It's Saturday.  Yes, I'm sort of lazy this morning. It was a helluva busy and exhausting week. But in a few minutes, I'll get myself motivated-- there are things on my agenda that I want to get done. But I'm also going to make sure to put a little "me time" in there. It's all about balance.  My AP Lit kids managed to engage in what is known as "productive struggle" this week-- and it worked. I wanted them to have to fight their way through an assignment (low stakes, but still a grade) and come out the other side being more competent. They were tasked with annotating T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land." Yeah, I'm that miserable *itch of a teacher. LOL It's rough going, to be sure. Then yesterday, I put them in pairs (no student input--work with whom you get) and assigned each pair a section of the poem to present an explication for, and they also had to answer four questions: what is the...

  And the rain it raineth every day... ( Twelfth Night , the Fool) We had a pretty impressive boomah last night; quite the light show, some serious rumblings, and it poured and poured rain. We've had rain every day, and there's a low-40s, heavy rain, turn to snow mess coming our way Sunday-Monday.  Mother Nature is in a snit.  It was 73 and lovely yesterday, but then, on cue, it rained around 2:30. Then, of course, the Main Event rolled in around 9:20pm.  Ah well, it made for good sleeping.  It's Friday, and I try to wear a funny English-related tee shirt every week. Today, I have a new one: Caffeine and Metaphors. I think it's about appropriate, given how dang tired I am this week.  Have a good day, friends. Hold your loved ones for a deep hug-- either in person, or in your minds. Love everyone you can. C

51 and rainy... sure is nice to have it warm, but it's soggy! I spent a lovely hour on Zoom last night with an old friend who lives in Canada. We had a lovely, wide-ranging conversation, everything from TS Eliot's "The Wasteland" to favorite series on Britbox. Such fun to chat with someone who is widely read! One topic we touched on is the loss of regional dialects in spoken language. In times past, one could at least determine what country a speaker was from, and even the region of the country. Even more particular, people used to be able to pinpoint what county (parish, borough, etc.)-- but not so much anymore. We agreed that the loss of specific regional speech patterns and accents is cause for sadness. People are far more mobile in today's modern life, and we have radio, television, the internet-- all ways of blending speech into a more homogenized, non-descript sound. I remember being in college and having a conversation with a young man who hailed from Tenne...

It's Wednesday, warm (!), and damp-- the grass is green, like spiky emeralds. The bees are gathering tree pollen, and it's "just spring--"  Speaking of cummings, we took a long look at [in Just--] the other day in class. Kids are so uncomfortable with the experimental spacing. But they eventually got it. One kid, who has zero past experience with poetry and who always has a (yes, I'll say it) stupid comment, was convinced that there is a clown (the balloon man), and that sparked a whole Pennywise diatribe... ah, seniors. They revert to childlike behavior. And I want to domino smack them sometimes.  Today, we'll wander around in Frost poems. Maybe there will not be a stupid remark today. I sure hope so. I cannot fathom why boys (it's usually boys) who are not sure of themselves in poetry must tear it all down to their level, all for a joke. Gah. Good luck in college, kid. Hanging in there... and I hope you do, too. The news cycle is setting my teeth on ed...