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At about 3am this morning, I awoke. (Grr! teacher insomnia.) I clicked on a link from my Twitter stream, which led me to the Vimeo homepage. The video I wanted wouldn’t load, but the title of the video below caught my eye. It is an incredible piece of cinematography. I think it’d make a great writing prompt either for poetry (a description of the motion in the video) or prose (What’s this guy’s story?)
Stunt Poetry from Rishi Kaneria on Vimeo.
In addition to a motto, I like the idea of adopting a poem for the school year. If I’d chosen a poem for last year, it likely would have been “To Raja Rao” by Czeslaw Milosz. A few days ago, the poem below was included in the Writers’ Almanac email (which is a great way to ensure you read at least one poem a day), and I quickly decided it would be my poem for this year.
Increasingly, I hear people extolling the value of failure in learning and teaching. (It’s not a new idea, but it seems to be popping up recently.) That resonates with me to a degree, but I also struggle with finding ways to move forward after failure, either failure according to my expectations or others. I think what I like best about this poem is the way it imagines embracing failure without discounting the work and joy that came before.
IX.
by Wendell Berry
I go by a field where once
I cultivated a few poor crops.
It is now covered with young trees,
for the forest that belongs here
has come back and reclaimed its own.
And I think of all the effort
I have wasted and all the time,
and of how much joy I took
in that failed work and how much
it taught me. For in so failing
I learned something of my place,
something of myself, and now
I welcome back the trees.
From Leavings, 2010
Online in the Writers’ Almanac
If you were to choose a poem for the year, what would it be? If you need a place to start, poets.org is a great resource.
I’ve never thought of myself as a “poetry person.” I was the kid in high school English who whined, “I don’t get it.” However, I enjoy reading poetry now, thanks to poetry aficionados who have nudged me toward poetry they think I will like.
Last week, we had an amazing poet in residence with our sixth graders. I think it’s important that I should do as I ask students to do. So while students were writing their poems with the poet, I wrote a couple poems, too, using the prompts Bud Hunt has posted. Each day he posts a picture and a question to act as a prompt. Writing poetry isn’t something that comes easily for me, and while it’s a little scary to write publicly, the great thing about writing poetry as a blog comment is that there’s less pressure.
What are you waiting for? Go write a poem 
Something we were withholding made us weak.
Until we found out that it was ourselves
We were withholding from our land of living,
And forthwith found salvation in surrender.
From “The Gift Outright” by Robert Frost
Two weeks ago, I got off a NYC express bus on my way to TEDxNYED. I walked into a Starbucks, reached into my purse, and realized I had left my wallet on the bus. I called my cousin, who immediately got on the phone with the MTA and started working to relocate the wallet. I then called Karen who was gracious enough to give me a ride to Collegiate. For most of the morning, I was physically present but mentally spinning out the likely consequences of my error. (I thought about students, some of whom have situations far worse than a missing wallet with which to deal. How much effort they have to exert on a daily basis to learn and be present!)
I tend to be a person who is always imagining the worse possible outcomes. Some of this I blame on law school. There students are taught to anticipate all outcomes but to focus on the worse possible scenario, so they can help their client balance the potential risks and rewards of the situation in the eyes of the law. It’s an important skill for lawyers to learn, but if you’re not careful, the lawyer brain starts to consume your life.
As I was sitting in one of the last TED talks of the morning, I got the following text from my sister (who was staying with my cousin): “THEY FOUND IT!!!!!!!!!!!!” An hour later, we met the bus at a 121st street, and my wallet (completely intact) and I were reunited.
In the days since my wallet was returned, fortuitous things keep happening. Nothing totally out of the ordinary, just everyday sorts of good things. Meals with friends. An unexpected gift card. Likely approval for a class I want to teach next year. A dentist visit with no cavities.
I’m starting to wonder- Am I seeing good things because they’re happening or are good things happening because I’m looking for them? Perhaps it’s the reason I liked today’s poem from the Writer’s Almanac so much.
Trust
by Thomas R. Smith
It’s like so many other things in life
to which you must say no or yes.
So you take your car to the new mechanic.
Sometimes the best thing to do is trust.
The package left with the disreputable-looking
clerk, the check gulped by the night deposit,
the envelope passed by dozens of strangers—
all show up at their intended destinations.
The theft that could have happened doesn’t.
Wind finally gets where it was going
through the snowy trees, and the river, even
when frozen, arrives at the right place.
And sometimes you sense how faithfully your life
is delivered, even though you can’t read the address.
“Trust” by Thomas R. Smith, from Waking Before Dawn. © Red Dragonfly Press, 2007.
