The Literate Teacher's Manifesto

I want to start this post with a small story. My family went to dinner with some friends on Friday night, and I wanted to make a real, concerted effort to be present, without my phone. And it turns out, if one person makes that effort, it seems to spread and be contagious, because we were at dinner for about an hour and a half and phones only made an appearance twice. Once, because we were trying to remember "tan George's" real name (George Hamilton... thanks Google), and once because my son got so tickled trying to tell a story that my husband had to take a video of his struggles--they were truly epic. Both of these were good reminders that technology can enrich our time together instead of distract us! And now for the real update: my tracking app predictions were just about right. On average, over the course of the last 5 days, I pick my phone up 40-60 times a day, and spend 3-4 hours on it per day. Ugh. Just seeing it written down there makes me feel even worse. A...

Day Four Update: I am not suffering DT's yet. These first days of the 30-day phone breakup are mostly about paying closer attention: to when you grab your phone, to how you're feeling before and after, and about being mindful to think about WHY you're picking it up before you actually do. I have noticed several patterns already. First, I always reach for my phone while I'm driving--a terrible habit just waiting to turn into a disaster. I have also noticed that I reach for my phone when I am purposelessly sitting somewhere public; like waiting for someone or for something to start. I think it stems from the need to look busy, like I'm not just sitting there like a lame duck. I am an important person with important things going on. I have noticed that phones are contagious, like yawning. You can observe this phenomenon in any public space. When one person picks up his/ her phone, the motion spreads across the crowd. It's crazy. I reach for my phone when I ...

Do you ever get the feeling that your entire existence is dictated by whatever sound your phone makes? In my case, every time I hear a snippet of the Harry Potter theme song (dum-dum da-da-dum da-duumm-duumm), I drop what I'm doing and grab my phone. I've been pretty convicted over the last few months that I need to do something to get this addiction under control, and to take back the reins of my own time. I just finished reading How to Break Up With Your Phone  by Catherine Price. The 30-day plan laid out in this book, compounded with its focus on mindfulness, seems to be exactly what I'm looking for. So, I'm taking thirty days to regroup on my relationship with my phone. And I'm devoting some of the extra time I'll have to writing more on my blog (probably about how the breakup is going).  This post will serve as both an introduction, and an update on the first two days. The first question the book poses is, "What do you want to pay attention to...

Well, April draws to a close. After two months of two back-to-back challenges, I am ready to take some time off to think and write in my notebook. I have sadly neglected it in trying to write and rewrite content for this daily challenge. I'm looking forward to writing more about my classroom again and reflecting on how this year has gone (but NOT daily)! But before the month of April officially ends, here's one last poem of the day. Landscape in Neutral You speak of promises of love unfaithful. You speak in syntax of Corso. I see you now in a field of neutral Helter skelter to trees below. Your image floats down crashes up sharp-edged stones submerges under white foam surfaces over a still blackness. I lean over the bridge, feeling like a muse as freezing water laps my boots. I am the vestal lady on Brattle. The grey-edged pond and white sun suck the color from my flowers, leaving a blank canvas. You ask me for this chip on my should...

Waiting for Catharsis Roethke said that in a dark time,  the eye begins to see. There are no stars gleaming under the Milky Way tonight. Two days ago we buried you. Under the roots of a magnolia tree, your still white body takes hold; Plans painstakingly laid for the decline and fall of my southern civilization. I weep for the loss of you. For a  boy who never knew me for a father crumbling away for a grandfather gone. For it all. My demons have come to a head. They are frothing, screaming, Tearing away at the walls I have built to hide them for so long. I am stalled, stalled. These are crises the mind cannot solve, and my heart, torn to pieces, is unreliable. I feel the shadow of Death lie weary over me; a dark arm reaching to sweep all into the forgiving sea Leaving behind only the wasteland the left-behind stasis in the sunlight of reality. This poem is a companion piece to The Gathering. Read it her...

Paw's Garden The tommy-toe vines are taller than me,                 laden with gleaming red gems of bursting light. Their delicate stems brush my cheek                 filling the summer air with the mineral scent of tomatoes in full bloom. Red dirt sticks to my tennis shoes,                 the brown paper lunch sack crinkles in my hand and bulges at the sides as I greedily throw more in. Paw never makes me stop picking.                 If I fill up one sack he'll give me another one, but it hardly seems necessary as I eat                 almost as many as I pick. We move on to the cornfield,                 sweet-smelling, rustle-y, silk fronds wave gently in the afternoon breeze--I don't like the corn. It i...

Memories of Japan Honey pours slow like New Orleans Drips on my leg- a brown memory of tongue in skin and poetry-- The calligrapher bends over my feet inscribing the first book of you. You could fall in love with me of the painted hands and back like a broad scroll. I rise through symphonies of lightning to meet you. I surface near your sun-- Too like Icarus, I fall. Brown feathers dot the sky, Punctuation for unwritten sentences.