Laundry The night Before Means Packing The night Before Means Bedtime later Than normal Restless sleep Like a child Waiting for Tomorrow To arrive Except No longer A child And though My heart Will be ready My body Will be tired Counting on A little caffeine A little music A little conversation To carry me safely Down the road From home To home And back again…
As I head to Arkansas to spend a week with my parents, I am thankful.
Thankful for my husband who says-Go! This is most important.
Thankful for my adult children who say-We understand! We will see you there!
And for extended family and friends who say-We will miss you! See you another time. Safe travels!
Taking responsibility for our actions is not always easy. A lesson that often needs repeating. A reminder from someone else’s example, perhaps.
The week before Christmas break at school is challenging. Emotions flowing between teachers, staff, and students cover the whole spectrum. No matter how many times we experience this phenomenon, it manages to sneak upon us.
Such was my experience with kindergarten this week…
My classroom management skills are good. But this day, the combination of tired, grumpy, and excited (me and the students 😉) took over. Class ended on a frustrating note.
The next day, one of my little friends saw me at lunch.
Mrs. Morris, I made you something. It’s in my classroom. Something to make you happy!
That afternoon, I received five apology notes. ❤️
May we all remember to say those three little words whenever necessary. And may we receive them with grace and understanding whenever offered.
The ground weeps This morning Unable To hold back The tears Soaked into Its roots From those Crying above Hearts Once light Now heavy With worries Witnesses to Devastation Prevailing wind Moves across The land Initially Unsuccessful In drying Their tears And yet, not Deterred I feel it Right now Gently caressing My face As it whispers Let your tears Mingle with The suffering Watering Seeds of hope Waiting For Silent Night
Several First-grade students: Mrs. Morris! I am signing up for your piano class!
A Fifth-grade student: Mrs. Morris…why is it only for first and second graders?
I am excited to offer a piano club for the first time! It will be for First and Second graders. Looking into offering a second class. Shhhhh…
Scene Two
A group of teachers and school staff members at Target:
It is Angel Tree time at our school. Teachers and staff work diligently to make sure our students have what they need along with something they want. This year, a local corporation sponsored some of our angels. All they needed were shoppers.
What are you looking for? Here are some cool Legos! Oh, and these shoes are cute! What do you think about this hoodie?
Passing each other in the store, all smiling as we searched for just the right gifts. The same as in the halls each day at school. Sometimes with tears instead of smiles, always with concern for our students.
A few of our secret shoppers. ❤️💚
Scene Three
The music classroom.
Me: Today is our student teacher, Mr. Malone’s last day with us. We need to say thank you and goodbye.
Student One: Why can’t he be our teacher? Are you ready to retire?
Student Two: Wait, is he a student? But he is a grownup!
Student Three: (Eyes welling up with tears.) I am going to miss him. (Crying along with a goodbye hug.)
Scene Four
The community kitchen-bustling with holiday cheer.
Friday morning, teachers and staff were treated to a pancake breakfast! The counter was lined with bowls of strawberries, bananas, chocolate chips. Complete with peanut butter, syrup, and whipped cream. The jolly cooks were none other than our administrators!
In certain Seasons Distance Seems To play The role Of villain Stealing away The moments If only I could be In two places At the same time I can’t be Two places At once At least Not my body But my heart… It is here It is there Distance Not really A villain Merely life And me Wishing The miles Between us Were fewer
It’s all a matter Of perspective Well-rehearsed Full of love Celebratory Happy Birthday! Performance Complete with Full chorus And orchestra
Impromptu Full of love Rambunctious Happy Birthday! Complete with Kindergarteners School hallway Their stage It’s all a matter Of perspective
Each rendition Delightful In its own right In its own space But those sweet Kindergarteners Singing in The school hallway Provided a harmony Beyond music
My birthday celebration this year was topped off with a special treat. My husband surprised me with tickets to see James Taylor and Jackson Browne in Kansas City, MO last night. Road trip! ❤️
So excited!CopperlineYou Can Closer Your EyesHappy tired
Four hours of life’s soundtrack from these two artists who are still going strong. Both in their seventies, I was amazed at their energy. Inspired by their love for what they do. Sharing the power of connection that lives in their music.
I hope to write more about this event. But right now, I want to bask in the harmony beyond music. It started with those sweet kindergarteners and continued right until the final note of last night’s concert.
So close your eyes You can close your eyes, it’s alright I don’t know no love songs I can’t sing the blues anymore Oh but I can sing this song You can sing this song when I’m gone-James Taylor
Oh, that I would not Miss the chance To know you Past your likes Past your dislikes The chance To offer time As a gift for us both- After all, that is The only way We truly connect Occupying The same space In the physical In the technological Either has the ability To spark the same magic Oh, that I would not Miss the chance To know you Due to the foolishness Of a word Such as busy- Is there really such a thing, anyway?
Thanks again to Ali Grimshaw for continuing to facilitate thoughtful, poignant poetry circles. http://flashlightbatteries.blog
The day Left me Deep In thought A day Covered In warm Sunlight And falling Leaves Sweet life in Your small hand Holding mine As we walked across Yellowing grass Rosy cheeks Squinting eyes As you reached up For me to lift you As you reached up And touched The red leaves Clinging To the tree A day Covered In life While also Holding space For death- I am left Thankful Clinging To rest
A Warm Blanket
Just like that The red leaves Greeting me With a smile Every day for weeks Fell to the ground Their days of Waving In the wind Left behind A few remain But if I asked I’m sure they Would admit Being ready To let go And join The others- Though I knew The day was Approaching That red blanket Was a surprise I felt sad For a moment Until I imagined The warm grass Underneath
Early in the morning, on my twenty-seventh birthday, you made a mom. And today, you turn twenty-seven. The significance is not lost on me.
The weeks leading up to your birth were traumatic. Your birth itself was traumatic. Waiting to hear your first cry. Seeing your tiny translucent face. And though I remember those moments well, I now see them thru a different lens. Your dad, me, and you were covered in love by family and friends.
You were a good baby. Your dad and I had no idea what we were doing but figured it out. You always loved music and books. Oh, and Legos. When your sister and brother came along, you loved them, too.
We’ve hit quite a few milestones together. The day you turned thirteen, I turned forty. I took you to your first rock concert. How old were you? Marching band, guitar lessons, prom, high school graduation. I will never forget the day we dropped you off at college. I cried the whole drive there and back.
Now you’re married to the sweetest girl and have your own life. Both of you are passionate about education. And you are working toward your doctorate in educational psychology. A life-long learner if I ever knew one.
I have the privilege of watching as you figure out this crazy, wonderful, beautiful life you get to live with a gentle spirit.
I am so proud of you. And I am thankful we share this day. Happy twenty-seventh birthday, Robert Allan Morris! ❤️
Unwelcome thoughts interrupted my morning. In those early moments when it was unclear if I was awake or still dreaming. Images that made my heart sink.
An image of me trying to secure a class of elementary students in my storage closet. Was there enough room for everyone? Wait, there is a glass view window in the classroom door. Can I lock the closet door from the inside?
Next, my daughter is in a similar scene. Except hers is a high school special education classroom.
I know why these thoughts appeared today.
A result of the news yesterday.
Another school shooting…
There have been so many in our country, it is impossible to keep track. That statement makes me sad. And while I know I cannot live in that sadness, it must be acknowledged.
I choose not to live my life in the what if’s. Yet, as an educator, these stories are troubling. As a spouse and parent of educators, they are personal. For all of us, they are heartbreaking.
I do not write to offer a solution. Only to express my heart. The heart of a teacher who loves her students and would do anything to protect them. A teacher, like many others, who are tired of the ugly truths that bring these intrusive thoughts.
I am thankful for all the smiling faces that greeted me as they entered our beautiful school this morning. Those smiles helped push the sadness away.
Piano Girl 