Summertime
27 Jun 2008 Leave a Comment
in personal goals, teaching, writing
Like many teachers, I am not taking the summer off from working! I just got back from a school trip which was wonderful, but was certainly work, and I have a fair amount of work for the next school year to tackle this summer. I have several books to read that I’ll be teaching for the first time this fall/year, some I’ve never read and one that I haven’t read in years, and I need to go back through my teaching materials. I think most teachers do this periodically, and the summer is a good time: revising lesson plans that almost worked but didn’t, polishing lesson plans that did shine already, rejecting ones that fell flat, and doing the same with major assignments.
I also have writing plans, including a one-day workshop on submitting to literary journals, another poetry workshop at the art museum (this one involving the permanent collection and a chance to have our poems included in the museum’s audio tour), and joining a new organization of women writers mentoring girl writers here in Baltimore. It’s pretty exciting, and dovetails nicely with one of my stated writing goals for this year, which was to find a way to be part of a literary community here in my city and also to take steps to further myself as a poet.
Quick Heartbreak
01 Jun 2008 1 Comment
in poetry
One of the links over there in my side bar is Paper Cuts, the blog of the book section of the New York Times, which I read regularly and always enjoy. There are a pair of threads recently that I’ve especially liked, one on poems of consolation for the lonely or heartbroken and another on novels (and short stories) of breakups and losses. I also read about a book recently called My Mistress’ Sparrow is Dead: Great Love Stories from Chekhov to Munro, which I’m adding to my summer reading list. My favorite discovery so far is from the poetic thread, a little witty gem from Raymond Carver that reminds me of my dear husband:
Still Looking Out for Number One
Now that you’ve gone away for five days,
I’ll smoke all the cigarettes I want,
where I want. Make biscuits and eat them
with jam and fat bacon. Loaf. Indulge
myself. Walk on the beach if I feel
like it. And I feel like it, alone and
thinking about when I was young. The people
then who loved me beyond reason.
And how I loved them above all others.
Except one. I’m saying I’ll do everything
I want here while you’re away!
But there’s one thing I won’t do.
I won’t sleep in our bed without you.
No. It doesn’t please me to do so.
I’ll sleep where I damn well feel like it –
where I sleep best when you’re away
and I can’t hold you the way I do.
On the broken sofa in my study.
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