A Skateboarder Being Interviewed

"Simple," I replied,"I don't think about falling."

"But, surely, you will fall," he said.

"Sure, I have fallen and fallen often:

I remember a time

as I jumped up to grind--

my speed was perfect as I hit the rail--

my truck snagged a lip,

unintentional flip.

I landed facedown on the pavement.

Bloody nose.

Bruised face.

Pavement-burnt hands.

The wind all gone out of my body.

I have befriended the

ground, pavement, floor.

And I'll risk it again, every time.

I must soar."

Wait Time

Teacher jargon is the overuse of common words. Time that you wait for an answer is called "wait time." Changing your original class plans to meet one student's needs is called "differentiation." Telling people background information before introducing a new subject is called "scaffolding." Let me be clear: any of these words or phrases is probably the subject of several books (which I hope to never read).

"Wait time" is one of my biggest weaknesses in the classroom. I am constantly asking my students a question, then plowing on into the answer before they have had time to think. As a student, one of my greatest complaints was not being given time to think about the question. So I'm surprised that it's one of my greatest struggles in the area of presentation of a lesson (planning a lesson has a whole other set of struggles for me).

"Wait time" is one of my biggest weaknesses in life, too. I must wait to see what will happen in a few key facets of my life. I take into consideration my hopes of having a career as a teacher, while never disconnecting from the state of the world, which is in uproar regarding education. Has it always been this political? So I must give in to the silence I feel surrounding me. I must let it grow warm, touch my skin as it closes in. Silence. Yet I am moving at a hundred miles per hour. Silently.

Book Report

I looked in the mirror.

I looked at my paper.

And back in the mirror,

and down at my shoes.

I remembered my mommy

and all that she'd told me.

And my teacher, Miss Holly,

the way that she scolds me:

Eye contact. Posture. My

FINAL GRADE!

I wish I had read about

the British Light Brigade...

Here goes, Miss Holly, I plod to the front:

"I chose a book about Billy the Kid,

How he robbed the stage coaches,

And if I were him--

I'd overtake the whole West, those lawless red roaches! I'd overtake saloons and gun-sling til I got all the gold and the frills from the drinkers and girls. Then I'd sit at the piano and sing about the sea til the sun began setting, my cue to leave. And I'd hop on six horses and ride away easy, on into the sunset, my kingdom at peace."

-Miss McKalips

Giving In

Beets are beets:

like meat, but unabashedly vegetable;

loud color, but unexpectedly edible.

They are unwilling to be changed

into something other than beets.

But sweet,

if you are willing to like beets

for beets.

When You Don't Have a Coin to Flip

In class today, we were deciding on speech topics. Mrs. A called on Jim to choose his topic. The pressure was on. He had been deciding between two topic possibilities when it came to be his turn. He cast about for something like a coin to toss. He looked first at his literature book, and decided against it. We were all waiting. His gaze fell upon his binder. That would do. He made note aloud that the backside up would be topic number four and hurriedly tossed it in the air. It fell to the ground with a clatter, papers everywhere, inside out. Neither front nor back was facing up, and we all stared at the binder's scattered insides.

"Uh... Number 6," Jim replied, ending our suspense, "I should have flipped your laptop, Miss McKalips."