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The Things I Carry

I carry my CCSD identification badge and the tracking device contained therein. I carry my keys, guaranteed entrance to most doors in our school, except those most in need of opening.

I carry the burden of expectation, the anxiety borne of the worst kind of perfectionism–the feeling that you are forever letting other people down. I carry the endless list of questions: Am I a good teacher? Am I good enough to make this meaningful? If I cannot make it meaningful to students, does it…

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How does communication affect our relationships with people?

 

“She opened the closet and dug through a pile of leftover junk until she found an antique, yellow rotary phone; she’d bought it herself at a garage sale back in high school--because she’d been exactly that kind of pretentious” (Rowell 25).

Landline phones have long since become a thing of the past. I’ve never seen an actual landline…

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"America" student poems

Here are some efforts from my English 11 students, using Whitman and, in one case, Hughes as models.

Macie B

 

I see America singing, the varied carols I see,
Those of teenagers, each one singing theirs as it should be emotional and strong,
The attention seeking, singing hers as she spreads another rumor,
The athlete singing his as his final season comes to an unfortunate end,
The alcoholic college kids singing what appears to be a jumbled mess as…

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