Biking this morning around 9AM, we passed a young boy, maybe 9 years old, walking down the street presumably on his way to school. Late. No other students in sight. Trying to scratch in his open workbook flapping in the wind as he walked. Crying.
Yesterday I heard a
Michael, Sandina and me in the “round room” at Manchester Jr./Sr. High School.
That would be ALL the Manchester schools – the elementary and middle schools in the morning and the high school in the afternoon. According to my sources (the third grade) I was the first author/poet sighting at Manchester Elementary since, well, since forever, which when you are only eight isn’t that long.
fishing hole, Scioto County, OH
When your daughters become mothers, Mother’s Day takes on a whole new meaning. I am so proud of Katie and Kelly and their beautiful families I don’t even think of mother’s day in terms of myself anymore. Truly. Today is a day to celebrate family and love.
Down here in
Michael and I both have been ON the road so much this spring, it was a relief to go OFF road for the weekend. Since we will be visiting Manchester students on Monday, we just nestled into the country for a couple days of R&R. Sandina booked us into the Shawnee State Lodge,
Thursday was a travel day, from San Antonio to Atlanta, Atlanta to Akron, where Michael picked me up and we hit the road for Manchester, OH just west of Portsmouth down Rt. 52 which runs elbow to elbow with the Ohio River. Friday was a teacher workshop with the entire K-12 Manchester staff (only
This year’s meeting of the International Reading Association had to have exceeded enrollment expectations – teachers from all over the country (and many other countries) invaded San Antonio to see Julie Andrews, Dave Berry and hundreds of other not so famous but probably more relevant presenters. I arrived on Saturday and joined Neal
“What’s your favorite color?”
Do kids really expect me to have a single answer to this question? Today I’m wearing a pink jacket, so I guess it is pink, the color that suits me today. Not red, too forceful. Not maroon, like wool, too heavy, too velvet. Not orange, too October.
Betrayal, love triangles, friendship gone bad and one poem that began, “if the world were made of sugar.” Students at Hilliard Memorial are invited to make it, shake and let it all out at a monthly open mike (see picture below). It is a come as you really are event hosted by librarian