I couldn't sleep, and this is what was wandering around in my head...
First off, as much as I'd love to be original, the aka thing I stole from Creation is Crucifixion. What a great band.
Let's start off with a random fact: approximately 107 billion people have lived on planet earth so far. I didn't know this while I couldn't sleep, but as I laid in bed I was imagining billions and billions of timelines for all the people that have ever lived on this planet. These timelines could be decades long for the people that made it into old age; incredibly short for those that never made it out of infancy or died very young; and everything in between. In my little vision, none of these timelines were a straight line. Instead they created a weaving, intricate web that involved all of their interactions with every human being they'd ever met and/or encountered. These interactions could be as coworkers, family, lovers, classmates, randomly walking by someone on the street, being served or serving someone at a bar/coffee shop/restaurant, and on and on and on. What I was thinking the most about, though, were the encounters that eventually lead to friendship.
Quick, relevant, diversion:
Facebook provides some interesting opportunities. Living abroad, it's great for keeping in touch with people back home. It's also provides the chance to connect with old classmates and childhood friends, some of whom I've had little or no contact with for 20 years or more. For most of them, when I see them post something, I'm struck by how there's still an overlap in interests that would make friendship really easy to resume if we were living in the same city. As a kid, I thought I was choosing my friends because they let me play Nintendo at their house, wanted to shoot hoops, or maybe ride bikes. However, throughout my time in school there were plenty of kids that liked riding bikes, playing video games, and shooting hoops, but I was only friends with a very small number of them. It's fascinating to think that even from a young age there is likely a lot more to how we choose our friends than we might understand at the time.
Back to my web:
At the advent of humanity as we know it the web was very small and likely uncomplicated. As each new timeline started for each person to make an appearance on earth, the web would continue to grow larger and more complicated, all the way up to the present where there are around 7 billion timelines that are starting, works in progress, and stopping. For each individual, their timeline will only intersect with an incredibly small percentage of that 7 billion. In general we can imagine it as a bell curve, in the sense that some people will interact with a lot more people, some a lot less, and there's probably a general number that starts coming close to an average. Google actually had surprising little to say about the subject, but I did see one web page that suggests that if you live to 90, you might meet around 100,000 people in your lifetime, and that was supposedly being generous.
Think about your own life, and how many of those 100,000 people will ever be your friends at any point in your life, and then break it down further to how many will actually be life long friends that you know you can always count on. It likely comes down to a number that you can count on one or two hands. If you can add your toes, than you are likely someone very special. Basically, out of the billions of people on this planet, we will only interact with a very small percentage of them, and of that small percentage, it's an incredibly tiny percentage that we will call friends.
Going even further, when you think about the 107 billion people that have called this planet home, and every choice that they ever made, which resulted in the incredibly vast sequence of events that resulted in you being born, and the incredibly vast sequence of events that led to your friends being born, and everything that had to happen so that you ended up in the same city, and/or went to the same school, or had the same friends, or happened to travel to the same destination, to me it's amazing that we ever met at all, and even better that we became friends (and this is where it gets a little harder to write). I usually try to avoid words like fate and destiny, but as I lay in bed thinking last night, I was got caught up in the fact that everything that has happened that led me to that exact moment, absolutely had to happen, otherwise that moment wouldn't exist. But it did exist, so everything that has happened, had to happen. Sorry, that is super redundant. But when I think about the people closest to me, if I try to subtract one of them from the equation, then every moment from that time on is different, which means that nothing else that has happened since that meeting could ever happen. The conclusion being that I was meant to meet every one that I have met (By the way, I'm aware of the circles I'm typing myself around).
The point being:
I guess that's what I mean by retroactive destiny. For those who have impacted my life the most, I wasn't thinking about fate bringing us together in the moment. Though, if I was in my early 20s, I was likely stoned, and probably should have. However, you have now become an inextricable part of my timeline, and none of the person I am, or where I am now is possible without you. I think that is one other thing that friendship does. We all have our own timeline, but as we go, we leave and collect imprints, a shadow of sorts, on those that really touch our lives that we carry with us as we go. There are so many of you that have left your mark on me, and I carry that with me always.
Showing posts with label oregon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label oregon. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Where to go from here...
I love this:
For the longest time I always thought I was trying to take the path of least resistance. It was maybe the path of least confrontation, because I think I was constantly mistaking opportunity for a challenge I was reluctant to pursue. Most of the time I just waited for the next thing to land at my feet as opposed to actively seeking a path that would provide the personal fulfillment (mostly professional) that has so far felt lacking. But then I would find myself here and have fleeting moments of inspiration and clarity:
The air is warm, the sky is blue (and all the leaves are green), a vast urban landscape is laid out in a multitude of buildings, people, and experiences. It's moments like these where everything feels tangible and I want to grab hold of this moment and embrace it as a living object. Because maybe this time I won't allow myself to get too comfortable with whatever status quo I've established for myself. Maybe if I can hold this feeling and moment long enough I will try harder in life. But it's not something I can physically hold onto. I have my brief moment of clarity where I make grand declarations to myself that I know I won't follow through on. But maybe one small thing sticks, and if enough things stick over time, eventually things might change.
Life is fascinating. Going places, experiencing people, letting nature take your breath away. The best moments never feel long enough, and looking back feel even shorter. Some of the best I can remember like yesterday, and some have to be conjured from the recesses of memory by stories told by friends. Having entered an entirely new stage of life makes me want to embrace these memories that much more. To me, they are the most important currency. At this point they feel like the best kind of savings that I have, making them that much more precious to hold onto.
Life is fascinating. Going places, experiencing people, letting nature take your breath away. The best moments never feel long enough, and looking back feel even shorter. Some of the best I can remember like yesterday, and some have to be conjured from the recesses of memory by stories told by friends. Having entered an entirely new stage of life makes me want to embrace these memories that much more. To me, they are the most important currency. At this point they feel like the best kind of savings that I have, making them that much more precious to hold onto.
Monday, October 21, 2013
陽明山:我從擎天崗走到聖人橋 (part one)
Those of you that have heard a bit about my previous Taiwan trip might remember me talking about and/or posting pictures of 陽明山 (Yang Ming Mountain). It's a national park in Taiwan a little to the northeast of Taipei proper. From my apartment it's a few stops on the MRT, followed by a 35 minute or so bus ride up a winding road in a little bus that fits 20 or so people. Well, this is the way that I've always taken to get to 擎天崗 (qingtiangang), which as of yet is the only place I've gone in the national park area. There is a reason for this:
On a day when low clouds blanket the mountain in fog, which are also numerous, it is just as amazing. Everything feels a bit more magical, and clouds move in a way where temporary clearings tease the intrepid hiker with the surrounding views, before obscuring them in a shroud of grayish-white.
Every time I go to 陽明山 I tell myself that I'll do something different. There are other bus stops along the way that have different trail heads, and other bus routes entirely that go to other parts of the park. There are hot springs, hotels, restaurants, and I have no idea where any of those things are. I get ready to go, think about where I want to get off the bus this time, and then don't get off the bus until I find myself once again at 擎天崗.
This past Sunday was no different. It was a warm, sunny day near 士林站 where I was waiting for the bus. My stomach was full from a nearby restaurant, was listening to Summoning's "Old Morning's Dawn," and thinking about where to go this time around. My thoughts were primarily turned to 冷水坑 (lengshuikeng), which is just a couple stops before 擎天崗. I'd previously noticed a couple different trails that looked interesting, and anticipated that this would be the time that I'd finally do something different.
The bus was crowded and all the seats were taken, so it seemed that it would be a standing ride for me today; though a somewhat older man looked at me and friendly tapped his arm rest in a somewhat joking invitation as a place to sit. He then turned to whom I assume was his wife to repeat this gesture and probably explain how funny he was.
As we exited the city and began the curving climb up the road to 擎天崗, the sunshine quickly turned into clouds; which then transitioned into several bursts of rain. The bursts turned into a steady rain, and I began wondering if I should have pursued something closer in that would have kept me in the sunshine. My apprehensions were mostly due to the shorts, t-shirt, and flip flops that were a part of my clothing arsenal, as well as a lack of any sort of rain deterrent. I knew it wouldn't hurt to keep going and at least see if things would calm down. I also found myself not getting off the bus until reaching the final stop and was once again in familiar territory.
The rain had stopped but the temperature was a bit cooler than I had anticipated. This was coupled with a strong breeze and grey clouds that still held the threat of another downpour. I picked up a poncho from a small store and decided that I would take a trip down memory lane and do the hike from 擎天崗 to 風櫃口 that had been my last hike here the last time around. There's a particular stretch of the hike that transitions from the grass fields and areas of dense foliage into an evergreen forest that hold smells and feelings of home. This had turned into my main motivation for covering similar ground and I was happy to be on my way. Though I began to wonder if I had picked the wrong footwear for the hike...
When you catch it on a sunny day the views of the mountains are stunning, and while civilization is really never too far, I've always had a feeling of being transported into another world when I've come here. The air is so clean, and the tall grasses have a look and a smell that reminds me a little of the Oregon coast. When there's a good breeze on the mountain, which is often, the sound of the breeze making it's way through the blades of grass has always instilled a sort of inner calm within me.
Every time I go to 陽明山 I tell myself that I'll do something different. There are other bus stops along the way that have different trail heads, and other bus routes entirely that go to other parts of the park. There are hot springs, hotels, restaurants, and I have no idea where any of those things are. I get ready to go, think about where I want to get off the bus this time, and then don't get off the bus until I find myself once again at 擎天崗.
This past Sunday was no different. It was a warm, sunny day near 士林站 where I was waiting for the bus. My stomach was full from a nearby restaurant, was listening to Summoning's "Old Morning's Dawn," and thinking about where to go this time around. My thoughts were primarily turned to 冷水坑 (lengshuikeng), which is just a couple stops before 擎天崗. I'd previously noticed a couple different trails that looked interesting, and anticipated that this would be the time that I'd finally do something different.
The bus was crowded and all the seats were taken, so it seemed that it would be a standing ride for me today; though a somewhat older man looked at me and friendly tapped his arm rest in a somewhat joking invitation as a place to sit. He then turned to whom I assume was his wife to repeat this gesture and probably explain how funny he was.
As we exited the city and began the curving climb up the road to 擎天崗, the sunshine quickly turned into clouds; which then transitioned into several bursts of rain. The bursts turned into a steady rain, and I began wondering if I should have pursued something closer in that would have kept me in the sunshine. My apprehensions were mostly due to the shorts, t-shirt, and flip flops that were a part of my clothing arsenal, as well as a lack of any sort of rain deterrent. I knew it wouldn't hurt to keep going and at least see if things would calm down. I also found myself not getting off the bus until reaching the final stop and was once again in familiar territory.
The rain had stopped but the temperature was a bit cooler than I had anticipated. This was coupled with a strong breeze and grey clouds that still held the threat of another downpour. I picked up a poncho from a small store and decided that I would take a trip down memory lane and do the hike from 擎天崗 to 風櫃口 that had been my last hike here the last time around. There's a particular stretch of the hike that transitions from the grass fields and areas of dense foliage into an evergreen forest that hold smells and feelings of home. This had turned into my main motivation for covering similar ground and I was happy to be on my way. Though I began to wonder if I had picked the wrong footwear for the hike...
Sunday, September 8, 2013
To lift their voice/龍山寺
One of my goals since I've arrived in Taipei is to go on a walk everyday. Today's goal was to walk from my apartment to 龍山寺 without checking any maps or planning any sort of route beforehand. This is roughly the route I took, which include a stop at 青山宮, a temple that Danny Ohlsen, Andrea, and I visited during his visit, and I ended up encountering again somewhat by accident.
從我家去龍山寺 (be sure to click on including the map)
龍山寺 is one of the oldest temples in Taiwan, having originally been built in 1738. It is also one of the most touristy, and with good reason; it is amazing.
There are usually a lot of people there, but today I was surprised with something entirely unexpected. It was more crowded than usual, and a large number of people had songbooks in their hands and were singing in unison with a lone hand drum, and maybe a cymbal keeping the beat. A song would finish, and then a voice would pierce the break in the chorus and identify the new song and melody that was to begin. After the one solo line, the collective whole would begin again with an awe inspiring cohesiveness. It was so unexpected and sounded so uplifting that for a moment I felt tears well up in my eyes. I did a loop around the temple soaking it all in. As I did this I noticed something. I would walk by various people and at times observed just how off key some of them sounded. However, I'd take a couple more steps, and they would blend into the harmonious whole.
It serves as a reminder that it's so easy to point out individual faults, whether self-reflective, or pointing the finger elsewhere. Yet a community working together can quickly compensate for individual imperfection and create something meaningful.
I know this is an obvious allegory to create from this experience, but it feels relevant because I have left my community. I've put myself back into an environment where I am definitely the "other." It's easy to get used to feeling anonymous in Portland as one of many tall, gangly, bearded dudes walking and biking around. However, throw those three adjectives on a foreigner in Taipei and the pool of eligible applicants shrinks exponentially. The result? Sometimes people stare. It can feel a little awkward, especially since I understand enough Chinese that after walking by people and then hearing them say something about the 外國 or the 白人, I know that they're talking about me. That's usually as far as I get though as far as understanding.
So then what is it about? Is it because I'm a tall, white guy? Have a beard? Both? Because I'm just so good looking? (joking) Because you feel annoyed that I'm here? Because you're wondering why I'm just sitting next to the river watching the sunset by myself?
This is not a complaint at all. I had some of the same thoughts during my first transition to living in Taipei, and I don't feel surprised that they've made a second appearance. The first time they went away and I imagine they will once again. To bring up my point from earlier, is that having left Portland, I no longer blend in. At this point, I am just a solo voice with all its imperfections, and thus feel as though I stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.
I did a poor job at creating a community the first time I was here, and so most events since I've arrived have been a solo exercise. I guess this brings me to my big point. I want to try harder to find good people, and build something meaningful with those around me. It also make me realize how quickly my year in Portland came and went, and how I dropped the ball on being more present before making another exit. So to friends and family I want to say that I love you all so much. Thank you for being you, and for being a part of my life. I miss you!
從我家去龍山寺 (be sure to click on including the map)
龍山寺 is one of the oldest temples in Taiwan, having originally been built in 1738. It is also one of the most touristy, and with good reason; it is amazing.
There are usually a lot of people there, but today I was surprised with something entirely unexpected. It was more crowded than usual, and a large number of people had songbooks in their hands and were singing in unison with a lone hand drum, and maybe a cymbal keeping the beat. A song would finish, and then a voice would pierce the break in the chorus and identify the new song and melody that was to begin. After the one solo line, the collective whole would begin again with an awe inspiring cohesiveness. It was so unexpected and sounded so uplifting that for a moment I felt tears well up in my eyes. I did a loop around the temple soaking it all in. As I did this I noticed something. I would walk by various people and at times observed just how off key some of them sounded. However, I'd take a couple more steps, and they would blend into the harmonious whole.
It serves as a reminder that it's so easy to point out individual faults, whether self-reflective, or pointing the finger elsewhere. Yet a community working together can quickly compensate for individual imperfection and create something meaningful.
I know this is an obvious allegory to create from this experience, but it feels relevant because I have left my community. I've put myself back into an environment where I am definitely the "other." It's easy to get used to feeling anonymous in Portland as one of many tall, gangly, bearded dudes walking and biking around. However, throw those three adjectives on a foreigner in Taipei and the pool of eligible applicants shrinks exponentially. The result? Sometimes people stare. It can feel a little awkward, especially since I understand enough Chinese that after walking by people and then hearing them say something about the 外國 or the 白人, I know that they're talking about me. That's usually as far as I get though as far as understanding.
So then what is it about? Is it because I'm a tall, white guy? Have a beard? Both? Because I'm just so good looking? (joking) Because you feel annoyed that I'm here? Because you're wondering why I'm just sitting next to the river watching the sunset by myself?
This is not a complaint at all. I had some of the same thoughts during my first transition to living in Taipei, and I don't feel surprised that they've made a second appearance. The first time they went away and I imagine they will once again. To bring up my point from earlier, is that having left Portland, I no longer blend in. At this point, I am just a solo voice with all its imperfections, and thus feel as though I stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.
I did a poor job at creating a community the first time I was here, and so most events since I've arrived have been a solo exercise. I guess this brings me to my big point. I want to try harder to find good people, and build something meaningful with those around me. It also make me realize how quickly my year in Portland came and went, and how I dropped the ball on being more present before making another exit. So to friends and family I want to say that I love you all so much. Thank you for being you, and for being a part of my life. I miss you!
Saturday, August 24, 2013
我在台北走走
Today I went on about a four hour walk around Taipei. I didn't aspire to new destinations, but instead went on a greatest hits tour to some of the places I like the most, including: 建國假日花市, 大安公園, 中正紀念堂. 中正紀念堂 often has great art exhibits, which is why I like going there, but it seemed that it is currently between exhibits. As I was walking, I had some thoughts going on in my head about this and that. To that end...
A week before I left for Taiwan I was able to go on a hiking trip with my two best friends, Kris and Daniel. A few years back we had a good run of four years in a row where we went on these hikes, but then life happens and it's been four years since our last hike, and we were once again embarking on a new adventure in the wilderness area around Glacier Peak. We did the Spider Gap loop and it was the most amazing hike I have ever done (I'd post pictures, but Kris was the only one with a camera, I should get those from him).
One moment in particular was sticking in my mind. On the second night of our trip, Daniel and I did a scramble to the top of a what looked like a pass of sorts where Daniel was sure we'd have a great view. Back up, before we even began the scramble I should clarify that before we started I had some wool socks and flip flops on and was hesitant to even begin climbing up the hill as I would have to at the very least take off my wool socks (I'm embarrassed to admit this, but it's how things went down). Daniel called me on my bullshit, I took off the wool socks, and up the hill we went. We made it through phase one, and were rewarded with a really great view. I was happy with this, but Daniel saw that we could actually keep going up to what looked like the top of the hill. Once again I was hesitant as there was only the merest outline of a trail that looked infrequently used and probably wasn't a real trail. On top of that, it was steep and we both only had flip flops, and the going back down is always the harder part, and holy shit, I am full of excuses. Daniel insisted, and our scramble became more of a goat scramble. It was really just a matter of minutes and were at the top of the hill.
Neither of us had a camera, so there is no picture to document this moment. The sun was setting behind jagged peaks, glacier peak was to the north (I think) and we had a 360 degree view of the Washington Cascades in all their majestic glory. I wish I could describe it better than that, as it was one of the greatest views I have ever experienced. I could really only stare in awe at the scene around me and then I waited for all of the amazing feelings to kick in...and waited...
This is what brings me to what I was actually thinking about while walking around today. As I stared out into the vast expanse of mountains all around me, I felt like I should feel more. Fuck that, I wanted to feel more: Why wasn't I feeling more? What's wrong with me? Doesn't my body sense how amazing this is? Why can't it catch up with what my eyes are seeing? Give me some immediate gratification here; stupid body.
Instead of enjoying the view for what it was, and that I was there with a great friend, I was instead feeling perturbed that my body wasn't kicking in some mad endorphins so that I could get high off nature. I was turning myself in circles trying to absorb the whole view and wanted to really feel something powerful...
I do that a lot. I have a great experience and instead of allowing myself to let it be what it is, I get wrapped up in my head about how I think I should be feeling about something instead of letting things happen naturally. The same thing happened the first time I came to Taiwan to teach abroad. I got here and wanted my mind to be totally blown on an hourly basis. I wanted to write home about all of the amazing things I was feeling and how my life had completely been changed. Instead, I used a blog (this blog) to write sterilized documentations of a handful of events and experiences. I was having a great time living in a new city and country, teaching, learning a new language, and checking out a small part of Taiwan. Shouldn't that be enough? I enjoyed myself the most when I stopped putting pressure on myself about what the experience should be, and just let it be what it was. An experience is the some of it's parts. It wasn't until I was heading home that I could see in greater detail how I grew and changed as a person and just how important the experience was for me.
A year later puts me back in Taiwan, and I have the above life lesson to guide my way. I'm so happy to be back, and I'm letting that be enough.
...it was getting darker so Daniel and I realized that we'd better start our trek back down the hill. I took one last look around and kept my subtle disappointment at not feeling more than what I was feeling to myself; at first that is. We began heading back down and a couple mintues later the floodgates opened and the rush kicked in; delayed gratification seems to be my modus operandi. I immediately thought: Yes! This is what I wanted to feel. What took so damn long? I certainly can't keep this to myself.
Thus, Daniel became the recipient of what had mostly been an inner monologue for the first couple days of our hike, and I proceeded to blab about all my feelings down an approximately 800 foot decline in elevation back to Image Lake.
Moral of the story: Always listen to Daniel. Or something like that. Here are some pictures.
Until next time.
A week before I left for Taiwan I was able to go on a hiking trip with my two best friends, Kris and Daniel. A few years back we had a good run of four years in a row where we went on these hikes, but then life happens and it's been four years since our last hike, and we were once again embarking on a new adventure in the wilderness area around Glacier Peak. We did the Spider Gap loop and it was the most amazing hike I have ever done (I'd post pictures, but Kris was the only one with a camera, I should get those from him).
One moment in particular was sticking in my mind. On the second night of our trip, Daniel and I did a scramble to the top of a what looked like a pass of sorts where Daniel was sure we'd have a great view. Back up, before we even began the scramble I should clarify that before we started I had some wool socks and flip flops on and was hesitant to even begin climbing up the hill as I would have to at the very least take off my wool socks (I'm embarrassed to admit this, but it's how things went down). Daniel called me on my bullshit, I took off the wool socks, and up the hill we went. We made it through phase one, and were rewarded with a really great view. I was happy with this, but Daniel saw that we could actually keep going up to what looked like the top of the hill. Once again I was hesitant as there was only the merest outline of a trail that looked infrequently used and probably wasn't a real trail. On top of that, it was steep and we both only had flip flops, and the going back down is always the harder part, and holy shit, I am full of excuses. Daniel insisted, and our scramble became more of a goat scramble. It was really just a matter of minutes and were at the top of the hill.
Neither of us had a camera, so there is no picture to document this moment. The sun was setting behind jagged peaks, glacier peak was to the north (I think) and we had a 360 degree view of the Washington Cascades in all their majestic glory. I wish I could describe it better than that, as it was one of the greatest views I have ever experienced. I could really only stare in awe at the scene around me and then I waited for all of the amazing feelings to kick in...and waited...
This is what brings me to what I was actually thinking about while walking around today. As I stared out into the vast expanse of mountains all around me, I felt like I should feel more. Fuck that, I wanted to feel more: Why wasn't I feeling more? What's wrong with me? Doesn't my body sense how amazing this is? Why can't it catch up with what my eyes are seeing? Give me some immediate gratification here; stupid body.
Instead of enjoying the view for what it was, and that I was there with a great friend, I was instead feeling perturbed that my body wasn't kicking in some mad endorphins so that I could get high off nature. I was turning myself in circles trying to absorb the whole view and wanted to really feel something powerful...
I do that a lot. I have a great experience and instead of allowing myself to let it be what it is, I get wrapped up in my head about how I think I should be feeling about something instead of letting things happen naturally. The same thing happened the first time I came to Taiwan to teach abroad. I got here and wanted my mind to be totally blown on an hourly basis. I wanted to write home about all of the amazing things I was feeling and how my life had completely been changed. Instead, I used a blog (this blog) to write sterilized documentations of a handful of events and experiences. I was having a great time living in a new city and country, teaching, learning a new language, and checking out a small part of Taiwan. Shouldn't that be enough? I enjoyed myself the most when I stopped putting pressure on myself about what the experience should be, and just let it be what it was. An experience is the some of it's parts. It wasn't until I was heading home that I could see in greater detail how I grew and changed as a person and just how important the experience was for me.
A year later puts me back in Taiwan, and I have the above life lesson to guide my way. I'm so happy to be back, and I'm letting that be enough.
...it was getting darker so Daniel and I realized that we'd better start our trek back down the hill. I took one last look around and kept my subtle disappointment at not feeling more than what I was feeling to myself; at first that is. We began heading back down and a couple mintues later the floodgates opened and the rush kicked in; delayed gratification seems to be my modus operandi. I immediately thought: Yes! This is what I wanted to feel. What took so damn long? I certainly can't keep this to myself.
Thus, Daniel became the recipient of what had mostly been an inner monologue for the first couple days of our hike, and I proceeded to blab about all my feelings down an approximately 800 foot decline in elevation back to Image Lake.
Moral of the story: Always listen to Daniel. Or something like that. Here are some pictures.
Until next time.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
A reflection on learning to teach...
I was just looking through some pictures from a few years back and came across two pictures that I hadn't looked at since I was a student teacher. The biggest reason for this is the fact that I'm no longer a student teacher and haven't had to critically analyze anyone's work in the time I've spent as a substitute teacher. Looking at this also made me realize that maybe I wasn't such a bad student teacher after all. The following two pictures are from the poetry unit I did with my sixth grade students. I'm actually blown away by how well these students captured the poems I assigned to them.
"A Dream Deferred" by Langston Hughes:
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
by Maya Angelou
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
I think my teaching classes also made me paranoid about copyright and fair use laws, but hopefully no one will take offense to my using such amazing poems to showcase just how awesome students can be. As much as I am loving being able to teach abroad, I do have a certain amount of frustration that I am not able to teach in the States and further pursue exploring literature with a class of my own...
"A Dream Deferred" by Langston Hughes:like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
like a heavy load.
I Know Why the Caged Bird Singsby Maya Angelou
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
I think my teaching classes also made me paranoid about copyright and fair use laws, but hopefully no one will take offense to my using such amazing poems to showcase just how awesome students can be. As much as I am loving being able to teach abroad, I do have a certain amount of frustration that I am not able to teach in the States and further pursue exploring literature with a class of my own...
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