Saturday, September 27, 2008

Sunday Scribblings: Wedding....

I was going to skip this scribbling entirely and then I remembered that I was asked to do a reading at the wedding of Leah and Mike and figured what the heck, this scribbling thing sure has my attention. So though I wrote it years ago, it still holds true today for they are still going strong with three kids in tow.

One Note, One Song, One Love

Your love will need the rain.
It will need to feel that gentle sprinkle
of the rain sometimes
lightly spraying your face.
You will need the magic of the rain.
To feel the hard pounding rain sometimes
soaking at the embers for it will cleanse the soul.

Love is like that.

Your love will need the sun.
It will need to feel the hot penetrating heat
of the sun sometimes
darkening the fibers
You will need the magic of the sun.
To feel the heat of the sun sometimes
peeling away the rough-hewn layers
for it will be the key to your heart.

Love is like that.

Your love will need the wind.
It will need to feel the soft wisp
of the wind sometimes
fluttering at your feet.
You will need the magic of the wind
To feel the tip-tapping song-dance of the wind sometimes
swan-singing its melody
for it will uplift the spirit.

Love is like that.

Love needs the rain
and the sun
and the wind

The gentle sprinkle for it cleanses the soul.
The penetrating heat for it is the key to your heart.
And the swan-singing, tip-tapping, song-dancing celebration
for it will uplift the spirit.

Love is like that.

My wish for you this day
is to always keep that sense of wonder
within arms reach and to remember
what brought you to the altar in the first place.
A place where hope lies within
that makes the possibility
of dreaming close at hand.
This moment is layered with promise
and we find comfort in knowing
that this is one more story
to be shared around the supper table of our lives.
A piece of our collective history.
Another story that has made
the moments of our lives matter.
A moment that God has entrusted to you.
To love deeply.
From this day forward
an angel will be resting on your shoulder
and the silent whisper that is spoken in your ear
is a love song that only the two of you can hear.
This music, it comes from a chord,
a note that the angels record.
And once this soft-slow waltz
written on the page is choreographed
you will dance to the rhythm
sung only in God's name.
One Note, One Song, One Love.
Until the next time....-Teach
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Friday, September 26, 2008

I just added...

I just added shelfari to my blog. Check it out. Listed are some of my favorite finds or the ones I read to take me away Calgon. My new favorite is Where the River Ends by Charles Martin. I picked it up and started reading while on vacation in Vermont. Once in my hands I couldn't put it down and ended up taking it back with me to North Carolina, and then finishing it up before mailing it back to my mom. A story of a man who travels one last time with his wife to where the river ends. A last goodbye between two people in love-until next time...

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

On the road ramblings...

I have a great deal of time to write when I am on the road. I don't mean writing drafts on paper, but crafting the lines inside. Somehow driving and writing in the literal sense would not be a good idea, though honestly, I have seen some things drivers do that surprise the heck out of me. One morning on my way out of town driving down Monroe Avenue, I saw a woman balance the application of eye shadow while driving. Not that there is anything wrong with that.
On second thought, that is so wrong.
My recent purchase of a Garmin (GPS) has proved to be a worthwhile investment considering the traveling I have been doing lately. The voice speaks to me and when I make a wrong turn, I am waiting for the voice from the box to say: "You dang fool. Turn the other way!!!" I also find myself talking to the box on the windshield calling out: "Hey Lady, which way you taking me this morning?" I have yet to name it. For some reason I'm thinking that if I did, it would be time to check myself in... until next time-Teach.

Monday, September 22, 2008


Over the course of the next few days, I will be writing my thoughts on supporting classroom teachers and the responsibility of instructional coaches to meet this end.
Over the years, I've listened to more nonsense than I can count; attended more workshops that ship me off to "johnny-land"; and sat through numerous planning sessions. And the ending note is the same: a colleague looks into my eyes and I into theirs, and with the glazed look, I say to myself out loud, HUH! what just happened here? And the realization after all is said and done is what we have left is a bunch of nonsense to put on the shelf of nothingness.....
.....sometimes the responsibility of an instructional coach lies in the listening. Sometimes I just have to listen to what they are saying, and oftentimes, to what they are not saying. Then, based on what they give will determine what they get.
......sometimes the responsibility of an instructional coach lies with autonomy. Classroom teachers having control in making informed decisions. This doesn't mean they do so without question, however, it can be done in a way that values all perspectives.
.....sometimes the responsibility of an instructional coach is to find solid ground. Sometimes being placed on a pedestal is hard work and one never knows when you will be knocked off. And when you fall on your head, it hurts. It is important to find colleagues who won't let you stay on that pedestal for long, and if you are having trouble finding one, let me know. I have a few I left behind.....until next time-Teach

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Finding your way back home again...

I am on the road a great deal traveling the blacktop weaving my way across, around and up and down the state of North Carolina. I leave in the early morning hours at the beginning of the week and return four days later. They say once you leave you can never go home again, and whoever "they" happens to be, I choose to disagree. I have traveled the road leading to nowhere many times, and the wheels always point me in the right direction: wherever home is at the time.

On the road I meet lots of interesting folk. Something can be said about living in the rural south where the people are friendly, the tea sweet and the peaches aplenty. After living in cities most of my adult life, I find myself in my travels returning to those spaces where everybody knows your name.
I am reminded of the song "Life in a Northern Town" by Sugarland. High on the hill on Prospect Street, the house of gray still stands tall and my parents, they still live there as well. A place of their own for over fifty years where they raised a family of seven, which in and of itself, is no small feat.

I am reminded that going home happens over and over again when something new sparks a memory, a thought or an idea experienced long ago.

And when I visit the woman alongside the road at the peach stand, in some crazy way, she reminds me of Geraldine. She was a neighbor up the road who would run out of the house on those days when the football would find its way over the fence. Instead of tossing it back, she scooped it up in her hands and the white robe, which matched the color of her hair, would lift her as she speed streaked back to her front porch.
The football. It was lost forever.....

.....until one day, her husband Charlie brought a box and once opened, an assortment of balls were filled to the brim. We graciously thanked him for his kindness not letting on that we knew. We could see in it his eyes knowing that the one thing he wanted most to come home was finally home.
Where are the sparks in your life found? Go in search of these treasures and you, too, will find yourself returning home time and time again... until next time...-Teach