Thank You Mother Lucy

Thank You Mother Lucy

 

Diminutive ancestor

Mother of us all;

You stood up

So we could run;

Participate in co-creation.

 

We share the path

That you began.

Gratitude and respect;

Hope and no regrets.

Thank you Mother Lucy,

You could have said “No.”

Than where would we be?

 

Faltering on one leg and than the other

 

3/25/07

After viewing Lucy at NYC Natural History Museum

To Write Out our Journey

Blank pages to be filled/designed by us.

Open spaces awaiting the first stroke

BOLD, shaky, microscopic.

As long as it gets down on the page

Poured out, sprinkled sparcely or liberally across the spaces

Upheld notes heralding our presence

Recording the past, predicting the future

Get it down on the page.

PTSD and Teaching

I never realized how Pavlovian my teaching career has been. I had a whip-lash-flash-back experience this morning.

I heard this voice say, "Mrs. R would you see me before you leave." When a student gets this call over the intercom, the entire class gasps. It is like an air of relief that they were not the one CALLED.

It fells like a prisoner who has been under 24/7 observation. How much each word, facial expression, and quick response could get me into trouble. If I responded to an insult with a quick, funny answer there was hell to pay, either from a Principal or an irate parent.

Insults were to be taken, not challenged. I have been listening to the song, "Let It Go," the Disney version all morning, and feeling much like Robin Williams might have felt in a classroom when someone whipped out a cutting remark. The tongue rapping itself around the perfect response, yet, holding back out of fear of retaliation.

AM I just too old and now cantankerous, or waking up from PTSD? And let it rip Robin!