A Poem on a Magazine Headline And 2 Preschool Classroom Notes

Hot Vampires in Love

The TV Guide shouted

above the conveyor

carrying my groceries

to the supermarket checker.

Suddenly I missed

Warren Zevon.

Only he could write this song.

Note #1:  On Teasing

I had a large group of very active boys for the last two years. There has been a lot of teasing and a lot of lost tempers. The thing I finally hit upon with them was to talk with the 5 boys who were doing most of the teasing (They also were the ones most sensitive to it of course). Together we came to a pretty good definition of teasing and a signal I or other children could do to alert the teaser to his behavior. We decided on simply saying the word “Teasing” with our “no thank you” sign which is sign language for “no”. Within 3 weeks the worst offenders had reduced their behavior by 3/4 and we had very few temper outburst. I did most of the alerting, and I did it very matter-of-factly with no judgment, or as little as I could manage. One boy who was the worst offender almost completely stopped teasing behavior within 2 weeks of the start of our experiment.It so important to give children immediate feedback (especially with children under 5) without interrupting their flow or making them feel badly.

Note #2: On Exploring Emotions and Feelings

Emotion coaching is one of the only effective tools that a preschool teacher has to use when teaching children how to successfully integrate into a group and learn social skills. I think that teachers should be thoroughly trained to be sensitive, and use this in mostly one on one situations. Why would we as educators talk about water, sand, or kangaroos and not about feelings? We should explore feelings as freely as we explore butterflies or mud puddles. That way they may be less scary and more easy to manage.
Now if a child starts to disclose abuse or shows signs of emotional distress, of course you cut the activity short and check on the child as well as talking with the parent to report what happened and see if you can give more support to the child around whatever issues came up. In my experience parents often are relieved to have a sensitive teacher who is willing to give extra support to a child who is experiencing a crisis as long as you support the parent as well.

2 Dreams, 2 Dawns, 2 Stories Begun and No End In sight

Collapse

The captain sat in his pick-up truck doing his usual predawn rounds. It had been a quiet night, and all was gray mist lit faintly by the impending sunrise. He could just see the section of sky bridge between two 4 story buildings and a piece of colorless sky. Suddenly a burst of dust obscured the section of bridge as chunks and bits fell and a rumbling thunder wave shook the truck as it passed. With no hesitation the captain was on the radio.

“This is Cap to all units. We have a situation. The sky bridge is down northeast of town. All units proceed to harbor center front for further instructions.”  He had the truck in gear and moving before he finished the second sentence and turned the first corner as he hung up the radio.

Units began to give ETAs as he drove his face set into a calm but determined mask. He took the turns with deliberate care but slowly increased his pace. When he arrived at the harbor center. He could see that a 200 foot chunk was missing from ancient bridge, and he knew that house sized chunks had cascaded down on a densely populated neighborhood. He also knew that their most important connection to mainland was severed.

He pulled up to the other truck.

“We don’t have a plan for this one,” he told the officer in the truck. “Get in there assess the damage and call in a report. I’ll monitor the radio,  and route emergency crews. Let me know which streets are open.”

The driver nodded and sped away.

After the Party

In, I stagger out of the rancid air inside the crowded noise and brightness of the party into the ancient plaza surrounded by stone and mortar lit in the gray light just before dawn. As I pass wall made of massive stone blocks, the sound of many voices singing a hymn comes from the row of windows up near the eaves. In front there is a iron fence with caste dragons perched like spikes on the vertical bars.

I can’t remember where I live or if I have a bed to lie down in. Finally, I choose a door that looks familiar it leads into a large apartment complex. Once inside I find a door open. I wander in and collapse onto a bed.

Suddenly I am awakened by the sound of music and many people conversing. I am in a basement room with a silent cold furnace in one corner and wooden stairs rising to a landing on the opposite wall. I slowly make my way to the stairs and shakily climb to the landing. I hear the music through the door and the sounds of heated discussion mingled with laughter and singing. I open the door and suddenly loose my balance wobbling into the color filled room. A middle-aged woman in a turban sits cross-legged on cushions in the center. All manner of people in fancy colorful clothes mingle around the edges of the well lit room. One wall is glass and cascading below is a city of tall square buildings of metal, stone and glass set among huge bright trees and a broad bay fading into the horizon. The woman immediately turns to face me with a look of shock which quickly fades to amusement. That is when I realize I am naked. I try running across the room, but I am tripped by strewn cushions and low steps.

“Somebody get a hold of him and get him out of here!” The woman says with disgust. “He is obviously drunk or on something.”

I rise again and make a break for the door.

Whose Driving This Thing?

Plastic Jesus Cool Hand Luke

I heard this song first in the scene from this movie when Luke sits plunking out the chords on a banjo while trying to deal with the news that his mother has died. It is a great song to sing while washing dishes, kind of like Janis Joplin’s Mercedes Benz. Lately I have seen it more as representing the attitude of some people who are driving our country down a scary road. What? Why should we worry? We have our faith.

I don’t care if it rains or freezes
as long as I’ve got my plastic Jesus
sitting on the dashboard of my car
it comes in colors pink and pleasant
it glows in the dark cause its iridescent
I’ll take it with me whenever I go far

Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus
Sittin’ on the dashboard of my car
Through all trials and tribulations
We will travel every nation
Me and my plastic Jesus we’ll go far

I don’t care if it’s dark or scary
Long as I have magnetic Mary
Ridin’ on the dashboard of my car
I feel I’m protected amply
I’ve got the whole damn holy family

Riding on the dashboard of my car
Oh Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car.
I’m afraid he’ll have to go,
His magnets ruin my radio,
And if I have a wreck, he’ll leave a scar.

You can buy a sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestones sitting on a
Pedestal of abalone shell
Goin’ ninety, I’m not wary
‘Cause I’ve got my virgin Mary
Guaranteeing I won’t go to Hell

Oh, Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car.
Though the sun shines on his back,
Makes him peel, chip and crack,
A little patching keeps him up to par.

Riding down a thoroughfare,
With his nose up in the air,
A wreck may be ahead, but he don’t mind.
Trouble coming, he don’t see,
Just keeps his eyes on me,
And any other thing that lies behind.

This Should Be More About Me

I realized this morning that I hadn’t just written about my life in a while, and it seems as though when I ignore that aspect of my writing, I begin to lose track of the flow of my life. I become trapped in cul-de-sacs of repetitive (have you noticed that this word describes its own spelling) thoughts and my trains of thought start to run in loops around the switching yard. Well I intend to take my trains out and give them a good run 2 or 3 times a week for the rest of the summer at least.

I have started working on the end of my novel again as well as studying 20th century poetry and writing some as it inspires me. I have less time this summer to focus on writing as I have been working, not at Head Start, but at a private cooperative school. It has been a nice break nevertheless, as the school is a relaxed and truly one of the most beautiful places I have ever been in my life even though it is right in the middle of our city. I have rediscovered how important environment is to the teaching/learning experience along with the teacher’s commitment and ability to learn his students, the most important factor in a early childhood education class. Our “classroom” includes a large garden, a grassy hill, climbing trees, a sliding ramp, a large field with  two 4 foot diameter plastic pipes about 7 feet long for sitting, or rolling around in, an outdoor stage, a goat pen with 3 goats that get milked once a day, a basket ball court and an ancient gnarled apple tree.

We have a tiny inside classroom, but I never have more than 8 students, so I have been able to make personal connections with each one everyday they come a nice change from having 18 everyday and a set schedule that often gets in the way of important interactions or activity threads. Conversations have been my main teaching tool as my students are all articulate and curious about the world as most 3-5 year-olds are. We have been exploring nature and art, bubbles, kite flying, and the finer aspects of tree climbing. Every day is full of choices which lead us outside in search of wind, bugs, and flowers and trees to climb. Inside we paint and draw, sing songs, tell stories, and talk about whatever comes up. There are some tears, but mostly laughter and joyous screams that are too loud for inside. So we go out and visit the goats and take pieces of cardboard to the ramp and test our speed and daring and then there is always the trees and bubbles and a kite to fly and just plain running crazy through the field. Its a rough job but somebodies got to do it.

Three Very Different Poems I Wrote A While Ago

Delicate Dance

The balance is the beauty,

each part moving freely

and yet affecting each other part,

compensating to retain the center.

If the form is awkward,

the movements must wobble.

Thus perfection mars the balance

and brings the structure down.

The balance is the beauty.

Can I give so that you can take

and receive what is given equal to your movement?

I must move to fill a certain space,

if you move toward an empty place.

If you bend to pick up a pin,

I must move further from the center .01 steps

and up one penny’s width.

Or, should I scuff an indent

and sink in a cold puddle depression at my heel.

########

Out of Context

triumphant

Caution to protect

From something conceived

To have formed an idea

Crouched, ready

To spring an

Animal hunting

Exhilarated, the opposite

Of clothing reflected

Off the surface

A mournful cry for

The dead throws out

From lower branches

Unstable ruin pushed into penetrable

Guard of anger bringing

Back from loss

Scorching, slow, not

Wanting to make small

Space sweaty gurgling

Footsteps a monolith

Volleys of hard sap

Grooved gradually a

Road in the light

Sparkling loosely down spiked discs

Wandering from the Woods.

####

“I want to hear a poem

where Tito Puente is still alive

and Elvis is dead,”

Tito Puente is still alive,

still chugging out the rhythm,

Tangelo, tangelo,

The old bridge leads like a scout

Through tropical sweat dripping

Tangle of vines.

Milagro! Milagro!

He is still alive!

But, Elvis is dead.