Archive for the ‘Youth’ category
February 20, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. February 19, 2018
It’s a small apartment located at the end of the first floor in the Wyngate Senior Living Complex. Dad has lived there for about the last three years, making new friends and acquaintances with other travelers of life’s final chapters.
Later on today and tomorrow my sister and I will spend some time over there going through some of his possessions, and breathing in the memories.
Dad passed from this life to the next on February 15 at the age of 89 years and 8 months. His was a life well-lived!
His apartment is a testimony to who he was and what had become entwined in his life.
There are the oxygen tanks that testify to his health limitations. Like a changing autumn landscape, I had noticed the changing interior of his apartment when I would come for one of my visits to southern Ohio from Colorado. Medications, the medical supplies a diabetic would need, blood pressure monitor, and (Sorry, Dad!) a good supply of adult diapers, his apartment spoke about that winter season of life that most of us will arrive at.
Scattered through the living room, bedroom, and closet are numerous items with the initials “U.K.” on them. Dad graduated from The University of Kentucky. He was proud of his Wildcats, suffering through many a football season and much happier most basketball seasons. There are UK shirts, hats, mugs, plates, flags, and the 1951 UK Yearbook. He had attended Kentucky after getting out of the Navy, but it wasn’t easy. He had married Mom, welcomed Child #1, our brother, Charlie, and provided for his growing family as he wore the hats labeled student, employee, husband, and father. Things were not easy during his UK years, and yet those years shaped him with the elements of resolve, perseverance, and organization.
Come to think of it, using the word “scattered” to begin that last paragraph would be the antithesis of who Dad was. His apartment is organized. His papers are organized. His cupboards are organized. By golly, his dresser drawers are organized!
There are Rotary remembrances. The service club had been a part of Dad’s life for close to forty years, joining the Ironton, Ohio chapter not long after our family moved to the town in 1969. Service defined Pops! He fit well in the organization that was sewed into the community’s fabric. But he also served the church, served his neighbors, and served our mother in their sixty-five years of marriage. He served as her caregiver in the last few years of her life, and at Wyngate he did those little acts of service. I remember my sister telling me that Dad tutored a woman who lived in the apartment next to him on how to give herself an insulin shot. She was scared to death, but Dad was able to bring down her anxiety about being poked and help her jump over that hurdle.
Pictures and pictures! Photo albums filled with pictures…framed pictures…pictures attached to his refrigerator…pictures with meaning and memories. The pictures give “snapshots” of his journey…family, church, laughter, friendships.
Going through Dad’s things, I realize, is important for my walk of grief. It’s ointment for my aching soul as I cry out for my father to come and sit beside me. Most of the things in his apartment will end up going to Goodwill or to someone else who needs furniture or dishes, but for now I need to be amongst “his things”. It’s a part of letting go and finding peace.
Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Death, Faith, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Dad, elderly parents, grieving, medications, memories, passing away, pictures, possessions, Rotary Club, senior adults, senior living complex, the things we leave behind
Comments: Be the first to comment
February 16, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. February 16, 2018
“Dad, look who’s here to see you!”
I entered his hospital room and caught sight of the elderly man, withered and worn out. His dinner tray, that he hadn’t the least bit interest in, was in front go him. Perhaps a six year old should be made to eat his peas and carrots but not an 89 year old man in his last hours.
He mumbled a few words when he caught sight of me. I think he said, “Well, hi, son!”
And he grasped my hand with firmness and purpose.
That hand had grasped me a number of times over the course of my life. Sometimes it conveyed discipline and disappointment, and at other times it told me of a father’s pride in his son’s accomplishments and decisions.
I remember that hand on the back of the bicycle I was learning to ride. I’d be wobbling like a Saturday night drunk riding it down the sidewalk. Dad would be jogging along behind me keeping me propped up, firmly grasping the back of the seat. From the front it must have looked like a car in serious need of the wheels being aligned, but from the back it was a view of the youngest child taking another step in the long ride of growing up.
“Dad, I can’t get the lawnmower started.”
Dad came out to the garage where I was struggling with the machine. His hand firmly grasped the handle on the end of the pull cord and he pulled. On the second pull the motor took off and he looked at me with a slight smile that non-verbally communicated “You’ve got to put a little muscle behind it.”
“Thanks!” I sheepishly replied.
I remember the grasp of the hand at the end of my ordination service on June 24, 1979. I had just been given the charge to ministry, been prayed over, and congratulated…and then there was Dad’s hand grasp telling me how proud he was of me, but also the importance of the calling.
Last summer we stood in a side classroom of Beulah Baptist Church. The worship service had ended a few minutes before that and there was a woman who had requested that the deacons pray for her. A serious medical condition had been discovered. They invited me to join them in the prayer circle around the lady. I stood next to my father, Deacon Emeritus of the church, grasped his hand, and then listened to him and others pray for the woman. His hand hold was firm, just as his faith in the power of prayer was strong.
Within an hour we held each other’s hands around the dinner table as he prayed for the blessings of God upon our meal and family.
When I would come from Colorado to visit him in the past few years he would reach his hand towards me at meal time, grasp it with care, and pray the dinner grace.
After several minutes in the hospital room he finally releases his grip and allows my sister to feed him the chocolate pudding from his tray. Unlike the peas and carrots he eats all of the pudding. It’s the last food he will partake of, a taste of sweetness that describes the effect of his life on so many others.
Less than a day later he passes on…and it’s okay! Like his hand grasp, he is a man who had a firm grasp on what is important in life.
That last grasp of the hand. I’m extremely thankful that God allowed me to have it. In my memories of Pops i’ll hold on to that moment for a long, long time.
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Death, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: a hand grasp, a hand shake, dying, father, holding hands, last words, memories, praying toegther, remembering, the death process
Comments: 2 Comments
February 11, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. February 9, 2018
Yesterday I posted “the list”! The list is the 13 seventh grade boys who have been invited to be a part of the Timberview Middle School interscholastic basketball team. It’s a list of celebration that had 13 signs of relief breathed upon it.
Not on the list are the 28 others who I had to say “Sorry!” to. Telling seventy percent of the boys that they were cut is worse than a couple of hemorrhoids living side by side…okay, maybe not that bad!
“Cutting kids” is also a life lesson. In every aspect of life there are those who are left off the list. Last spring I applied for a head coaching position for basketball at a local high school. About a week later I received an email informing me that I was not one of the finalists. There was a moment of indignation, but I got over it. Two weeks later I interviewed for another position and was a finalist, but was still not the final pick. In both cases I was not the one. It’s how life works.
For each of the students who tried out for the seventh grade team I did an evaluation that I will willingly share with any of them who ask me. I made the point to those who were not chosen that if they work on specific skills their chances of making next year’s team will improve. Some will make attempts, and others will find other things that may be more of a passion than basketball.
Parents don’t like kids to be cut. In fact, we use softer language as I did in the first paragraph. We “invite” a few students to be on the interscholastic team. If you hear the students talk, however, they will usually use one of two terms. They “made the team”, or they “got cut.”
Some day these same kids will apply for college or submit a resume for a job. When they are rejected I wonder if their parents will correct them and say, “No, honey! You just weren’t invited to take the position!”
Pain and disappointment lead to self-discovery. “I’m sorry to inform you” letters cause adolescents to realize that the world does not spin on their personal axis. If someone is never disappointed he/she will seldom reach for something that is still beyond their reach.
One boy came to me Friday afternoon. He’s a good-sized kid, who I thought would be one of the 13, but his skill deficiencies rose to the surface in the four days of tryouts. “Coach, I was really disappointed when I saw that I didn’t make the team, but I’m okay with it now.” He’s a good kid who I will have in class Monday and Tuesday for the teacher I’ll be subbing for. I told him I’d share my evaluation with him so he can work on a few things. He appreciated that. In the course of a few hours he went from taking it personally to knowing that I care about him. In regards to him, disappointment will make him stronger and cause him to work even harder.
Cutting kids is the hardest thing I do as a coach, and yet one of the most important things I do.
On Monday morning I’ll convince 13 other seventh grade boys that the world does not revolve around them either!
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Humor, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Basketball, basketball coaching, coaching, cutting kids, Disappointment, making the cut, making the team, middle school, middle school boys, middle school sports, middle schoolers, not being invited, not making the team, rejection letters, Seventh Grade
Comments: 1 Comment
February 6, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. February 6, 2018
The freshmen boy’s basketball team I coach at The Classical Academy (TCA) In Colorado Springs has been abysmal in their free throw shooting this basketball season. Three of our five losses came in games where we shot under 50% from the foul line.
Before we had played any games way back in November I had challenged one of my players (I’ll just refer to him as “Verle”!) to improve his shooting. Each day in practice we’d do two or three rounds where each player shoots ten free throws and reports their results.
Verle would tell me, “Coach, I made 2 out of 10.”
“Coach, I was 3 for 10!”
Once in a great while it would be, “Coach, I was 5 for 10!”
Finally, one day I said to him, “Verle, if you shoot 90% for the season I’ll shave my head!”
His eyes lit up!
“Really!”
“Really!”
His eyes squinted together, his way of telling me that he was up to the challenge. In my opinion, his look of determination did not change the fact that he was a master bricklayer as a free throw shooter. Quickly he informed all of his teammates of the coach-player bet. They whooped and hollered about it.
Last night we played our 15th game of the season. Verle had not yet shot a free throw all season. In the fourth quarter of a game where we had a comfortable lead it happened. He got hacked!
The one stat that each of my players were aware of was that Verle had not shot a free throw all season. He was zero for zero! There was instant excitement on the bench of what might happen. The junior varsity players waiting behind our bench knew also and they were intently watching.
He stepped to the line, received the basketball, bounced it twice, and then launched. With minimum rotation the ball headed towards the rim. It hit the front of the rim, bounced and hit the back of the rim, and then fell through the basket. My bench erupted. The JV players joined them in the celebration. Verle looked over at me on the bench with the same squinted eyes look.
I called time out!
In basketball a coaching ploy that is often used is called “icing the shooter.” It’s the idea of making the free throw shooter have to think about the difficulty of the shot he/she is about to attempt. If someone makes the first of two shots it’s the idea of getting him away from the spot that feels comfortable for a few moments before he attempts the second shot.
This, however, might be the first time a coach has called time out to “ice” his own shooter. The players gathered around me, and someone told Verle why I had called time out.
“Coach, are you trying to ice me? Coach, I’ve got ice in my veins!”
“Great! Maybe you’ll freeze up on your shot!”
The bench was excited. The JV players were yelling. Verle walked over to the free throw line, cast one more look of determination at me, and readied himself. Behind me on the bench a couple of players were making buzzing sounds to mimic an electric razor.
He shot! Time stood still! The ball hit nothing but net! I put my head in my hands!
The whole bench, plus the JV team all launched into a symphony of electric razor buzzing. Verle gave me the squinted eye look one more time.
Now I must try to get him into another free throw shooting situation in the final four games, but considering it took fifteen games before he attempted his first one that is going to be a tough task. He may come down with a two week flu, or fake a sprained ankle.
I walked into the locker room to the sound of the whole team “buzzing!”
My hair is toast!
Categories: children, coaching, Freedom, Humor, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: basketball coaching, coaching ploys, coaching strategy, free throw, free throw shooting, icing the shooter, making foul shots, shaving my head, shooting foul shots, The Classical Academy
Comments: Be the first to comment
February 5, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. February 5, 2018
My wife and I went to see the movie Wonder a few weeks ago. We found ourselves shedding a few tears during the film, which followed the story of a fifth grade boy named “Auggie” who had Treacher Collins syndrome. Because of his condition Auggie would wear an astronaut’s helmet around whenever he was in public. He dreamed of being an astronaut because in space no one sees the faces of others.
Ten and eleven year old kids can be cruel, but they can also be compassionate. Auggie experiences both ends of the pendulum as it swung from classmate to classmate.
I was deeply moved by watching the film and pondering its messages. Weeks later I’m still thinking about it!
And then Saturday morning I woke up with a rash on the side of my face that made me want to put on an astronaut’s helmet…or paper bag. By Saturday afternoon I looked like I had a huge chaw of chewing tobacco between my left cheek and gum (Not that I’ve ever done that, but I was born in Kentucky! Half the barns in the state used to have “Chew Mail Pouch” painted on one side!).
The past two days I’ve had a few “Auggie moments”. That is, I’m very self-conscious of my face and I assume that everyone I see is looking at me. There’s a sense of embarrassment tied into it. I don’t feel normal, and normal is what all of us want to be unless we’re doing something that our culture thinks is extraordinary.
Lessons are learned in the abnormal moments of life.
This afternoon middle school boy’s basketball tryouts begin. It’s my seventeenth season coaching at Timberview Middle School, and it’s the seventeenth time I will see the uncertainty of seventh and eighth grade boys as they deal with the uncomfortableness of being watched by coaches and other boys who they feel inferior to. Perhaps God gave me this rash to help me empathize with the pressures of being a twelve year old.
Actually, there’s that hint of uncertainty and inadequacy in any middle school child. With some it just might be a little deeper below the surface, but it’s there. Much of the time he or she simply stays out of situations where it has the potential to rise to the surface.
I can relate. In my few trips out in public the last three days I’ve tried to stay to the left so the left side of my face is away from people. Three months from today I’ll turn 64 and I’m still sensitive to my insufficiencies!
I’m simply a self-conscious adolescent in an elderly shell!
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Freedom, Grace, Humor, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: adolescence, inadequate, Mail Pouch tobacco, middle school boys, middle school sports, middle schoolers, self-conscious, seventh graders, skin condition, skin rash, The movie Wonder, Treacher Collins syndrome, uncertainty, Wonder
Comments: Be the first to comment
February 3, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. February 3, 2018
Cancer has taken a number of my friends. Mike Wilcoxen sat beside me in “home room” my senior year off high school. The next year I went off to college, but Mike succumbed to cancer at the age of 18.
Jim Sweeney, Steve Shaffer, Gary Gowler, Professor Ted Hsieh…my list of cancer victims is far longer than my list of cancer survivors.
And then about fifteen months ago my friend, Greg Davis, 41 years old, passed after a six year struggle with a form of brain cancer.
And so yesterday I taught an eighth grade language arts class at the school where Greg taught social studies for fifteen years, and I wore a pink shirt with the words “Slam Dunk Cancer” on the front of it. In the midst of each class I told Greg’s story, his victories and his struggles. Each class was graciously attentive. It’s interesting that in my second class I got a bit emotional. It suddenly came upon me like a wave of emotional memories and I had to stop for a moment.
Last night at The Classical Academy (TCA) I wore that same pink shirt, but switched to a pair of blue Docker’s, and sparkling white tennis shoes. My basketball team got a kick out of it! There was a sea of pink in the bleachers last night as TCA raised funds to send the kids of cancer victims and survivors to a special camp in the summertime.
We won our freshmen boys game! In the locker room celebration afterwards I told the boys, “This is the last time I come to a game dressed by a lollipop!”
Correct that! I would do it every game if it could help someone struggling with cancer or families that are living with heightened anxiety each and every day. I miss my friend Greg. As I told my classes yesterday, I wore the pink shirt to honor him and to remember him.
Thank God no one came up to me last night and tried to lick me!
Categories: children, Christianity, coaching, Community, Death, Humor, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: battling cancer, cancer, cancer awareness, cancer survivors, cancer treatment, cancer victims, Coaches vs. Cancer, eighth grade, fighting cancer, middle school, middle schoolers, Officials vs. Cancer, wearing pink
Comments: Be the first to comment
February 1, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. February 1, 2018
Dr. Stuart Ryder was an institution at Judson College (now Judson University). A professor in the English Department for “centuries”, in his later years he also assumed the role of Athletic Trainer for the school’s sports teams.
Dr. Ryder was also a master of puns. His sharp wit would rise to the surface suddenly with a humorous line that caused occasional laughter and, more frequently, groans.
For example, before a cross-country meet one of the runners was walking around barefoot, and Doc Ryder voiced, “I guess we must be smelling ‘da’ feet!”
Now, decades later I find myself using puns in the middle school classrooms where I’m teaching to the groans of the seventh grade students. It is as if I’m channeling Doc in my attempts at witty humor. It emerged again this morning at Starbucks when one of the baristas was fixing a cup of tea as I walked up to the counter. “Just a minute, Bill! I’ve got to fix the tea before the customer gets here.”
I quickly channeled Stuart Ryder. “I guess it wouldn’t be good for the cup to be ‘emp-ty!’”
She chuckled and said “Good one!” Seven A.M. humor at Starbucks is greatly appreciated in the midst of bleary-eyed customers who are waiting with heightened irritation for their first cup of java.
In the classroom “pun humor” keeps the middle school students alert. Some of it is too deep for them, but that’s okay! I don’t understand the math they’re doing either!
Dr. Ryder used to say a pun and then give a personal chuckle that involved some rapid and short inhaling and exhaling. When I utter a pun I just smile and look for understanding.
“Mr. Wolfe, see my baggie! I think someone stepped on my cookie that’s in it!”
“Well, I guess you could say that’s how the cookie crumbled!”
“Mr. Wolfe!”
Another situation while we were outside.
“Mr. Wolfe, I had my bag of chips sitting here on the rock and the wind came and blew the bag off. The chips went everywhere!”
“Gee, that’s too bad! I guess you might call that an example of ‘being chips off the old rock!’” (Loud groan in the midst of chip grieving!)
It’s Doc Ryder’s seeds from the past rising again in new life.
Our lives are cultivated by different people in a multitude of ways. Dr. Stuart Ryder planted, watered, and helped students grow.
Every time I find myself beginning a sentence with the words “I guess you could say…” I can hear the rumble of his laughter within me!
Categories: children, Christianity, coaching, Freedom, Humor, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: chuckling, Dr. Stuart Ryder, English, Judson College, Judson University, laughter, middle school, middle school humor, middle school students, pun humor, puns, Seventh Grade
Comments: Be the first to comment
January 31, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. January 31, 2018
There are certain things in life that we partake of because…
Because of family tradition. Because we’ve always done it that way. Because it’s all we have. Because someone does it. Because we were told to.
For a few years at Thanksgiving I’d make oyster dressing. No one else in my household- spouse or any of the three kids- would even get close to the oyster dressing. I made it because…my mom always made it for Thanksgiving! I didn’t even realize that dressing/stuffing could be eaten without oysters! Christmas featured fruitcake. I don’t even like fruitcake, but we always had one for Christmas, so I’d munch away, pretending it was a natural act of mankind.
I acquired a taste for coffee during my last year of seminary when I decided to take a Hebrew class. Late at night Steve Wamberg, Steve Shaffer, and I would drive over to The Golden Bear restaurant, drink coffee and study Hebrew flash cards. The Hebrew never stayed with me, but the taste for coffee did. Forty years later I’ve acquired a taste for Starbucks coffee, a brew that grew on me!
In recent years I’ve acquired tastes for Brussel sprouts, yogurt, and grits. Such notions would have made me break out in fits of laughter a few years ago.
There also seems to be “acquired tastes” of cultural ideas and trends. Last year the middle school where I coach was saturated with “fidget spinners.” Spinners were those handheld devices that were held by two fingers and spun. They became a “thing” that became classroom distractions. Teachers had nightmares because of fidget spinners. When they thought of the word “annoying” a picture of a fidget spinner would pop up in their minds.
What I noticed about “acquired cultural tastes” is that people sometimes follow along and partake simply because of others. It’s simply peer pressure shaped differently. There are issues or situations where following along is a good thing, a wise thing; and there are issues and situations where following along is ludicrous.
For example, towards the end of the 1800’s the overwhelming opinion in the United States was that Chinese immigrants were to be despised and discriminated against. Many businesses and corporations had policies that prohibited the hiring of Chinese. In fact, a person would be hard pressed to find someone who was sympathetic. The government sure wasn’t! People followed along in that “acquired taste” of hate and racism.
In the turbulence of our present culture recent “acquired tastes” have included national anthem protests, reefer gladness, consuming laundry detergent pods, and openly hoping that certain elected officials meet untimely deaths. They are like opinionated tsunamis that years from now will be looked upon, like the discrimination of Chinese immigrants, as making no sense whatsoever. For now, however, like flags blowing in the wind, people wave in the direction of the spouted opinion.
If a Hollywood starlet or recording artist makes a statement in the midst of one of the many award shows on TV you can be sure that numerous people will acquire the taste of that stance soon after. I guess that sounded somewhat opinionated, didn’t it?
Well, here’s another opinion! Most acquired tastes, with the exception of Starbucks coffee, should be un-acquired!
Categories: Christianity, Community, Freedom, Nation, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: acquired taste, agreement, Chinese immigrants, cultural trends, culture, discriminating against Chinese immigrants, fidget spinner, following along, fruitcake, grits, opinion, opinionated, oyster dressing, peer pressure, Starbucks, Starbucks coffee
Comments: Be the first to comment
January 28, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. January 28, 2018
It’s been a tough week in Spartan Land! The Larry Nassar horror had been going on for a while. I wanted to believe that he was more connected to USA Gymnastics than Michigan State University.
You see, that’s a big part of my problem, and struggle. I don’t want to believe that anything can go wrong in Spartan Country.
Sports Information Director at the Air Force Academy, Troy Garnhart, told me of the Academy’s football game at Michigan State a couple of years ago. He was impressed by everything- the people, the facilities, but, most of all, the hospitality and genuineness of the coaches and players. That’s what I want to hear! It’s difficult to hear that the coin actually has another side to it.
I want to believe that about the other university about an hour southeast down the road. Anything that makes Jim Harbaugh want to puke…like a blocked punt on the final play of a football game…brings a smile to my face!
But this is Spartan Land, and I wouldn’t even want such a debacle to happen in Ann Arbor. One of sexual assault victims of Larry Nassar is the daughter of a man who was a part of the youth group I led back in the early eighties in Lansing. Her testimony personalized a story that became so immense that there was a danger of seeing so many victims- more than one hundred and fifty, but forgetting that each one of them endured pain and suffering.
As happens in our culture, the indiscretions of one becomes the fault of the many. We’re teetering on the edge of a moral ledge where things that have been kept hidden are raising their ugly heads. In recent months, more than usual, an incision into the heart of our society has revealed the darkness of how we live. In our talent for avoidance we usually shrug off the rumors, but, in this situation, the reality has tsunami’ed us. The Nassar crimes are like when you look at a wall and see a crack in the paint, but when you more closely investigate it you notice that the crack extends in all directions.
I want to still live in Spartan Land but the “Green and White” has become grey-ish! I want my heroes to stay standing on pedestals, but I’m afraid that the possibility of falling off is increasing daily.
And how far does the failure of responsibility ripple out? A university president and the athletic director have already retired/resigned. The entire board of USA Gymnastics joined the list of resignations. How many more will be found to have ignored the elephant in the room?
I’ll always root for the Spartans, but when I wear my Michigan State hoodie nowadays I’m reminded more of the damage that has been done to a multitude of lives than I am of Spartan victories.
A school that has been known for “Magic” has entered a new chapter that is entitled “Tragic”!
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Freedom, Grace, Nation, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: abuse, coverups, darkness, Green and White, Heroes, Jim Harbaugh, Larry Nassar, Magic, Michigan, Michigan State, Michigan State Spartans, scandal, sexual assault, Spartans, USA Gymnastics
Comments: 1 Comment
January 27, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. January 27, 2018
I was given the opportunity yesterday to teach seventh grade Language Arts class. One hundred adolescents more excited about a weekend of doing nothing as opposed to fifty-seven minutes of literary creating and discovery!
The assignment for each period was to create a poem, based on an ancient form of Chinese poetry called “Shi” poetry. I explained the creative process to them, showed them a few examples and set them off on the road of pondering, erasing bad lines of gibberish, and creative expression.
“Mr. Wolfe, what do you think about this? “I have a flying dog who flies in the air like a pigeon.”
“Needs a bit of work!”
“Why?”
“Well, I’m not exactly sure where you’re going with this, but if you have a flying dog do you really need to repeat two words later that he flies? And, isn’t it enough to say it’s a flying dog, as opposed to comparing him to a pigeon?” He ponders, returns to his seat, and I notice he immediately flips his pencil to use the eraser.
A masterpiece just destroyed by a substitute teacher who doesn’t understand about flying dogs.
“Mr. Wolfe, what do you think about this?” He hands me his creation, which I carefully read.
“The season of winter has begin
The light will be dim…”
“Shouldn’t that word be ‘begun’?
“Well, I wanted it to rhyme with dim.”
“(Thinking the words but not saying them: Listen, Longfellow!) Begin doesn’t rhyme with dim.”
“Yes, it does…begin…dim…” He is trying to convince me that I’m in error.
“No, it doesn’t! And, anyway, you don’t need to rhyme!”
“I know, but I thought it sounded good!”
(Thinking the words again: “Well, it doesn’t!”)
There were other inspired students yesterday who impressed me with the depth of their thoughts and flow of meaning. Poems about the afterlife, death, and personal value were mixed in with other poems about chicken wings, watermelon, and having a rat for a pet.
The drudgery I sensed about the assignment was soon replaced with an excitement about personal expression. Even if the poem was about macaroni and cheese there was still a sense of pride about what had been transmitted from the pencil to the paper.
When students shared their creations they read them with smiles on their faces and the hope of recognition. When each student finished reciting we snapped our fingers together like we were beatniks from the 60’s.
A few poets may have been created in those moments yesterday, as well as visions of flying dogs who look like pigeons.
Categories: children, coaching, Humor, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: chinese culture, creating, creative, creative writing, creativity, language arts, middle school, middle school students, poems, poetry, Seventh Grade, Shi poems, substitute teacher, substitute teaching
Comments: Be the first to comment
Words from WW Blog 