.
Sunday, November 30, 2014
apple laptops for <$200
RHS senior Noah Hernandez has found an online source for inexpensive, refurbished Apple laptop computers. If you're interested in learning more please either comment to this post, visit Noah's blog, or mention it in class.
poems
Here are some poems I discovered, rediscovered, and/or fell in love with last week.
Summons
by Robert Francis
Keep me from going to sleep too soon
Or if I go to sleep too soon
Come wake me up. Come any hour
Of night. Come whistling up the road.
Stomp on the porch. Bang on the door.
Make me get out of bed and come
And let you in and light a light.
Tell me the northern lights are on
And make me look. Or tell me clouds
Are doing something to the moon
They never did before, and show me.
See that I see. Talk to me till
I'm half as wide awake as you
And start to dress wondering why
I ever went to bed at all.
Tell me the walking is superb.
Not only tell me but persuade me.
You know I'm not too hard persuaded.
The Place Where We Are Right
by Yehuda Amichai
From the place where we are right
Flowers will never grow
In the spring.
The place where we are right
Is hard and trampled
Like a yard.
But doubts and loves
Dig up the world
Like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
Where the ruined
House once stood.
Everything is Going to be Alright
by Derek Mahon
How should I not be glad to contemplate
the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window
and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?
There will be dying, there will be dying,
but there is no need to go into that.
The poems flow from the hand unbidden
and the hidden source is the watchful heart;
the sun rises in spite of everything
and the far cities are beautiful and bright.
I lie here in a riot of sunlight
watching the day break and the clouds flying.
Everything is going to be all right.
Working Together
by David Whyte
We shape our self
to fit this world
and by the world
are shaped again.
The visible
and the invisible
working together
in common cause,
to produce
the miraculous.
I am thinking of the way
the intangible air
passed at speed
round a shaped wing
easily
holds our weight.
So may we, in this life
trust
to those elements
we have yet to see
or imagine,
and look for the true
shape of our own self,
by forming it well
to the great
intangibles about us.
Where the Sidewalk Ends
by Shel Silverstein
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
Out Beyond Ideas
by Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn’t make any sense.
Summons
by Robert Francis
Keep me from going to sleep too soon
Or if I go to sleep too soon
Come wake me up. Come any hour
Of night. Come whistling up the road.
Stomp on the porch. Bang on the door.
Make me get out of bed and come
And let you in and light a light.
Tell me the northern lights are on
And make me look. Or tell me clouds
Are doing something to the moon
They never did before, and show me.
See that I see. Talk to me till
I'm half as wide awake as you
And start to dress wondering why
I ever went to bed at all.
Tell me the walking is superb.
Not only tell me but persuade me.
You know I'm not too hard persuaded.
The Place Where We Are Right
by Yehuda Amichai
From the place where we are right
Flowers will never grow
In the spring.
The place where we are right
Is hard and trampled
Like a yard.
But doubts and loves
Dig up the world
Like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
Where the ruined
House once stood.
Everything is Going to be Alright
by Derek Mahon
How should I not be glad to contemplate
the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window
and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?
There will be dying, there will be dying,
but there is no need to go into that.
The poems flow from the hand unbidden
and the hidden source is the watchful heart;
the sun rises in spite of everything
and the far cities are beautiful and bright.
I lie here in a riot of sunlight
watching the day break and the clouds flying.
Everything is going to be all right.
Working Together
by David Whyte
We shape our self
to fit this world
and by the world
are shaped again.
The visible
and the invisible
working together
in common cause,
to produce
the miraculous.
I am thinking of the way
the intangible air
passed at speed
round a shaped wing
easily
holds our weight.
So may we, in this life
trust
to those elements
we have yet to see
or imagine,
and look for the true
shape of our own self,
by forming it well
to the great
intangibles about us.
Where the Sidewalk Ends
by Shel Silverstein
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
Out Beyond Ideas
by Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn’t make any sense.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
the power of poetry
Here's a prompt you can use to create additional value on your course blog.
Pink Floyd's "The Wall" is a classic album (on the off chance you hadn't heard) that was made into a movie. The scene below portrays how school can be isolating and teachers can be cruel. Like Montag, one student thinks for himself and gets creative. So here's the question: out of all the things he could be doing, why does he choose to write poetry to express himself? Why did the filmmaker think this was an effective way to show individuality and nonconformity? And why does the teacher make such a big deal out of it?
Pink Floyd's "The Wall" is a classic album (on the off chance you hadn't heard) that was made into a movie. The scene below portrays how school can be isolating and teachers can be cruel. Like Montag, one student thinks for himself and gets creative. So here's the question: out of all the things he could be doing, why does he choose to write poetry to express himself? Why did the filmmaker think this was an effective way to show individuality and nonconformity? And why does the teacher make such a big deal out of it?
have you chosen a poem yet?
Not every poem is long and serious. Consider this classic by Shel Silverstein:
Where the Sidewalk Ends
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
Where the Sidewalk Ends
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
thank you
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.
It reminds me that I don't say thank you often enough, even though I say it more than I used to.
So, in the spirit of the season:
Thank You.
Each and every single one of you, in some small way, has been my teacher this semester.
Thank You.
You have taught me patience, compassion, empathy, humor, and occasionally fussiness.
Thank You.
You have taught me how differently we respond to the good and bad in our lives.
Thank You.
You have inspired me.
Thank You.
You have responded to media-enhanced madness with maturity beyond your years.
Thank You.
You have given me reason to wish this weekend was over, just so I can see you smile as you put college application season in your rearview mirror.
Most of all, you have succeeded in reminding me why I do this job in the first place. You matter a great deal in this world and I'm proud to be on your team. I look forward to the second half of our journey; in a blink it will be June, and I intend to suck the marrow* out of every minute we have together. For now, enjoy this time with family and friends, and tell at least one of them:
Thank You.
__________________________
[*There is a part of my brain that is still immature enough to imagine taking that quote out of context so that it reads "I intend to suck." That is most definitely not the spirit in which I intend it. The idea is actually an allusion to Henry David Thoreau, who wrote: “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, To put to rout all that was not life and not when I had come to die Discover that I had not lived.”]
It reminds me that I don't say thank you often enough, even though I say it more than I used to.
So, in the spirit of the season:
Thank You.
Each and every single one of you, in some small way, has been my teacher this semester.
Thank You.
You have taught me patience, compassion, empathy, humor, and occasionally fussiness.
Thank You.
You have taught me how differently we respond to the good and bad in our lives.
Thank You.
You have inspired me.
Thank You.
You have responded to media-enhanced madness with maturity beyond your years.
Thank You.
You have given me reason to wish this weekend was over, just so I can see you smile as you put college application season in your rearview mirror.
Most of all, you have succeeded in reminding me why I do this job in the first place. You matter a great deal in this world and I'm proud to be on your team. I look forward to the second half of our journey; in a blink it will be June, and I intend to suck the marrow* out of every minute we have together. For now, enjoy this time with family and friends, and tell at least one of them:
Thank You.
__________________________
[*There is a part of my brain that is still immature enough to imagine taking that quote out of context so that it reads "I intend to suck." That is most definitely not the spirit in which I intend it. The idea is actually an allusion to Henry David Thoreau, who wrote: “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, To put to rout all that was not life and not when I had come to die Discover that I had not lived.”]
Friday, November 21, 2014
november 21
JOURNAL TOPIC: (today's tunes: "Taking Care of Business" by
Bachman-Turner Overdrive; "Taking Care of No Business" by Jimi Hendrix)
What is it about routine that makes our lives both easier (more efficient) and harder to change (put down that third bag of Hot Cheetos!)? Describe a routine you want to start, describe a routine you want to stop, and describe a routine you want to continue.
AGENDA:
1. Journal
2. "Immigrants in Our Own Land"
3. Granger, Montag, and You
HW:
1. What poem will you become over the Thanksgiving Break? If it's not "Immigrants in Our Own Land" it should be personally meaningful to you and worth memorizing. Please post a video of you reciting the poem to your blog by Monday, December 1.
What is it about routine that makes our lives both easier (more efficient) and harder to change (put down that third bag of Hot Cheetos!)? Describe a routine you want to start, describe a routine you want to stop, and describe a routine you want to continue.
AGENDA:
1. Journal
2. "Immigrants in Our Own Land"
3. Granger, Montag, and You
HW:
1. What poem will you become over the Thanksgiving Break? If it's not "Immigrants in Our Own Land" it should be personally meaningful to you and worth memorizing. Please post a video of you reciting the poem to your blog by Monday, December 1.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
buddy system
I just realized that I'll have to be off campus today and tomorrow for periods 6 & 7. That means that period 7 won't get the same guidance and structured discussions-- so period 3 students, we're all counting on you. Today in period 3 I'll read the period 7 roster and make sure that everyone has a period 3 buddy who can help by sharing notes and explaining our conversations. Mahalo.
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