Saturday, February 26, 2011

Letter to the Editor


 

Teachers Overworked

Marilla Stephenson could be doing more to serve the needs of our children than worrying about one storm day in the school year. How petty your complaint is. This teacher has seen countless professionals go that extra mile, or as education critic Jim Gunn puts it, "best serve the needs of an increasingly complex and fully mainstreamed student population." You're preaching to the choir, sir. Last year when I wanted to organize my classroom and prepare my lessons, on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon in the spring, I was amazed that four or five other teachers were there doing the same thing. Did any of us complain? Nope. Working at school late into the evening or arriving early? Been there and done that. And it doesn't end there. There is the preparation at home, the marking, the professional development plans, the formal and informal professional learning communities, the breakfast programs, extra-curricular activities, extra help sessions, the organizing of educational trips, coaching sports teams, and on and on and on. Truth is: so many teachers and administrators spend their hard earned time and money on society's children and youth while, sadly, a few in our society can do nothing better than point out something as trivial as this. But if you really want to serve the needs of our children first, I suggest volunteering some of your time or some of your extra funds the way teachers do. Or if you can't do that, the least you could do is say "thank you" the next time you see a teacher. Our goals are quite clear, thank you very much.


 

Found Poem – Dylan Mash-up


Johnny's in the basement mixing up the medicine with the masters of war, having one more cup of coffee for the road.
"Senor, Senor, do you know where you're headin'?"
"I'm Goin' to Acapulco - goin' on the run. I won't go down Highway 51 no more."
The wounded man looks up through his one dyin' eye,
"they say every man needs protection. They say every man must fall."
"Yeah, but the authorities stand around and all they do is boast." 
There was a battle outside and it was raging.
"You were born with a snake in both of your fists while a hurricane was blowing."
"Man thinks 'cause he rules the earth he can do as he pleases."
"What's it to ya, Moby Dick? This is chicken town!"
Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail, in the valley of the giants where the stars and stripes explode, shots ring out in the ball room night. Frankie Lee sat right down and put his fingers to his chin.
"I got a head full of ideas that are driving me insane!"
"Lo and behold! We live in a political world where love don't have any place."
"Mona tried to tell me to stay away from the train line. She said all the railroad men just drink up your blood like wine. If I pass this way again, you can rest assured, I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word."
On that I was thinking about a series of dreams. Early one morning when the sun was shining, I was laying in bed, wondering if she'd change at all if her hair was still red. Out my window I saw there was a vagabond rappin' at my door. He looked so immaculately frightful as he bummed a cigarette. He said,
"I've seen the arrow on the doorstep saying, "this land is condemned all the way from New Orleans to New Jerusalum."
So in my brand new leopard skin pillbox hat I said to the man in the long dark coat,
"I've given up the game I have to leave. The pot of gold is only make believe."
"Leave your stepping stones behind, there is something that calls for you."
"I'm walking down the long lonesome road, where I'm bound, I can't tell."
"Well, join the monks, the C.I.O., tell 'em all that Tiny says, 'Hello'."
"Bye and Bye!"
I wasn't making any great connection, wasn't falling for any intricate scheme, just thinking of a series of dreams. The crimson flames tied through my ears, rolling high and mighty traps, pounced with fires on flaming roads, using ideas as my maps.
"Gentlemen", he said (with Quinn the Eskimo man by his side), "I don't need your organization. I've shined your shoes. You're the reason I'm a travellin' on. Don't think twice it's all right."
With my hands in my pocket and my coat collar high I will travel unnoticed and unknown. Though I'm travelling on a path beaten trail I feel a change coming on and the fourth part of the day is already gone.