Pam Webb

a writer's journey as a reader

Archive for the category “reflections”

03 Apr 2016
2 Comments

POM: April 3


Confession: I was a closet poker as a child.

*Whew* I’m glad that one is out of the way. Yes, I see that nod. You, too? What is it that fascinates the child to stand before a parent’s closet and sift through their belongings? I enjoyed parading around in my mom’s high heels, arraying myself in her scarves, her jewelry, and balancing a purse in the crook of my arm. Hats were in style back in my childhood. Well, maybe in the childhood before my childhood. I’ve always admired the fashions of the forties. A well-dressed adult always wore a hat. I missed those days of unspoken dress code by a decade or two. Hats once had meaning. Now they hide bad hair days. Never mind. I do enjoy what Mark Irwin shares about his own closet discoveries.

My Father’s Hats

     Sunday mornings I would reach
high into his dark closet while standing
     on a chair and tiptoeing reach
higher, touching, sometimes fumbling
     the soft crowns and imagine
I was in a forest, wind hymning
     through pines, where the musky scent
of rain clinging to damp earth was
     his scent I loved, lingering on
bands, leather, and on the inner silk
     crowns where I would smell his
hair and almost think I was being
     held, or climbing a tree, touching
the yellow fruit, leaves whose scent
     was that of clove in the godsome
air, as now, thinking of his fabulous
     sleep, I stand on this canyon floor
and watch light slowly close
     on water I can't be sure is there.

—Mark Irwin

Posted in Family, national poetry month, poems, reflections and tagged , , , ,
02 Apr 2016
1 Comment

POM: April 2


An extended metaphor of personal significance.

To a Daughter Leaving Home

When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.

—Linda Pastan

 

Posted in American poets, children, memories, national poetry month, reflections and tagged , , , ,
29 Mar 2016
16 Comments

Oh, for a muse of fire


As a senior English teacher I have the distinction of being the last of a long acquaintance with school literature for my students. Many, if not most students, come in with a surly attitude about English. My goal is to get that frown turned upside down. While I don’t resort to extremes, I have been known for some surprising antics to liven up class. I inject movie clips, silly voices, and theatre activities into the lesson plan.

I enjoy teaching English because I’m actually a librarian at heart (budget cuts). To infuse the love of books is a mission, not a vocation.

At the end of the month my students will have studied a handful of sonnets, examined three Shakespeare plays, watched one live performance of Hamlet, analyzed two of the Bard’s speeches, and have performed one of the speeches from a play. They will be so full of Shakespeare at the end of this unit they will leak iambic pentameter onto their desks. This might cause consternation with the custodians, yet it is all part of my mission to turn these Bardihators into Bardinators. I would be Bardilating even if it wasn’t Shakesyear.

My extra effort Barding might be paying off; I think I might be making headway. We began with Taming of the Shrew, a farce that they could relate to because of Ten Things I Hate About You, and then we went onto a tragedy. I surprised them with Othello, a complicated study of villains and heroes and racial issues that resonates with my students even after 400 years it was first performed.

We moved onto my personal favorite: Hamlet. We explored the first eleven lines together and they realized Shakespeare’s language does not present the barrier they thought they would encounter. We prepared for the climatic duel of act five by going outside and learning  stagecraft fighting with duct-taped yardsticks.

I teach the same lesson six times, slightly modified, due to being the only senior English teacher this year, so my Shakespearience becomes even more enriched over the years because the math computes to a lot of repetition of knowledge. I’ve always said the best education I’ve received is from teaching.

As for students and their absorption of English? I wonder how much impact I will have. Will students fondly or disdainfully remember my efforts to interject the muse of Shakespeare’s fire into their lives? Will there be Renaissance Man moment, when they will recite a few lines or carry the meaning of a studied play with them into their future life? I hope so.

For now, my librarian-teacher  heart will continue to thrill when students make comments like: “I really like this. I really like digging into this Shakespeare stuff.”

My fire is amused.

image: pintrest

Posted in education, Literature, reflections, Shakespeare and tagged , , , ,
25 Mar 2016
8 Comments

Why We Say: #24–oldies, fer sure


A gathering of odd phrases today. Have you ever “laughed up your sleeve” at finding a good deal, only to find that you “paid through the nose” for the item, which, perhaps, made you feel “the wool was pulled over your eyes” making you want to “put up your dukes?”

In that case…

Back in the days of kings and queens when mindings one’s manners was essential to remain in good grace with the court, a courtier would hide an unbecoming guffaw by laughing up his or her wide sleeve, thus muffling the merriment. Today, to laugh up one’s sleeve indicates hiding our humor from someone or laughing at someone without that person realizing it.

preparing to laugh up one’s sleeve via youtube.com

When the Irish were conquered by the Danes around the 9th century, they suffered the cruelty of receiving a slit on their nose if they didn’t pay their proper tribute. Today, if we feel we’ve paid more than what think is a fair price we apply this saying. My wallet taking a slice is a bit more appealing than my nose.

I knows I wouldn’t want to anger those Danes

Then we go back in time once again in the days when men, as well as women, wore wigs. Highway men would stop carriages of the well-to-do and pull their wigs over their eyes so they could not identify the thieves. The wigs often being white (that one I don’t know why) resembled wool. Today getting “the wool pulled over our eyes” indicates getting fooled or even cheated.

 King George apparently started the white wig fashion–or is someone pulling the wool over my eyes?

Inevitably, when a fight is about to erupt, the obsequious line “put up your dukes” is sallied forth. The Duke of Wellington, yes, Napoleon’s duke, had a rather significantly  sized nose. Fists became known as “duke busters” and finally shortened to “dukes.” To put up your “dukes” means someone’s nose is in hazaard. Is that where we got the Dukes of Hazzard?

 Did the Duke duck when a fight broke out?

Stay tuned for next month’s round of leg pulling, piping down, pulling up stakes, and getting read the riot act.

Posted in everyday expressions, humor, reflections, Uncategorized, Words and tagged , ,
22 Mar 2016
13 Comments

Grrs and Greats


Not that it’s a resolution, but I have come to the conclusion I have got to find a balance to my aggravating days and really great days. You know the routine:

“How’d your day go, dear?”

“Are you kidding? The stoplight skipped a cycle and I’m hanging out waiting for-ever, and when I finally get to the light it changes! That’s before I even got to work. I dropped my keys in a puddle, I forgot about a meeting, the boss came by for an unexpected chat and I was updating my blog, which was on my break, but his frown didn’t register that information…yada yada.”

It’s soooo easy to just grrumble.

Then again, I’m working on bettering my PollyAnna side of life, where all is rose petals and never a thorn.

I’ve decided to balance a great for every grripe.

Here is my ongoing Grrs and Greats list:

GRRS  and GREATS
GRR: food packages that require Herculean effort to pull apart
GREAT: handy “tear here” bags that seal with a zip

GRR: forgetful servers on a tight lunch break
GREAT: a server who remembers I like lemon with my water

GRR: unexpectedly meeting someone and drawing a blank for their name
GREAT: not only remembering the person’s name but remembering
pertinent details like their kid’s name and their college major

GRR: a book that has been on hold FoREveR, only to be a dud
GREAT: grabbing that last minute read while in the checkout line and it is FABulouS!

GRR: a DVD with only previews for the special features
GREAT:  an entire dedicated disc of special features WITH a bloopers reel

GRR: forgetting to do the laundry-again which means the shirt I really wanted to wear is buried deep in the laundry hamper
GREAT: finding all aspects of desired wardrobe essentials because I actually washed, dried, folded on Saturday.

GRR: the store drop-listed a favorite brand
GREAT: it’s on the shelf again and on sale!

GRR: hanging out in waiting room limbo for more than a half hour
GREAT: wait time of ten minutes or at least new magazines to peruse

GRR: forgetting to pay a bill and getting punched with a hefty late fine
GREAT: getting a refund for overpayment, or a rebate, or a gift for being such a valued customer

GRR: the school district decides to close school and it’s important test day
GREAT:the school district decides to close school and it’s important test day [a matter of perspective]

GRR: someone with 30 items in the 15 or fewer line
GREAT: the person who says, “Go ahead, you’ve only got a couple of things.”

GRR: getting gas and up the street it’s going for 20 cents less a gallon
GREAT: a full tank prior to a gas hike

GRR: saving up and buying that gotta have item only to find it on sale a week later
GREAT: finding that fabulous item on clearance, saving mungo bucks

GRR: the long dark days of winter
GREAT: hmm, I’m still trying to find something really great about the long days of winter

Balance is indeed important. And while I’m still working on figuring out how to embrace those tedious winter days, I’m hoping you have come up with a couple of GRRS and GREATS of your own. Eli of Coach Daddy originally posted this list as one of his guest spots, and since I’m still adding on my grrs and greats I felt it was a post repeating or is that a grr: posts that are reruns,  then again they could be grreats: that post was really terrific  to read even the second time around.

Feel free to share your own grr and grreat.

And for those who missed my usual POM slot (poem of the month–stay tuned, since next month is  National Poetry Month and I have a poem for every day of April!)

 

 

 

Posted in Americans, bloggers, reflections, stress, Writing and tagged , ,
16 Mar 2016
8 Comments

Has Spring Sprung Yet?


If Yoda lived around my geographics he might mutter: “Strange I think this weather is.” 

  
Plastic tulips to fool the moose that ate last year’s batch.
For instance:

One day last week I ate lunch out on the “patio” (back doors by my classroom) soaking up the delectable rays of 50+ degrees, only to wake up to snow flurries six days later.

This must be spring. That roaring lamb thing is in gear.

I know the calendar declares spring to be around March 21. Being too comfy to get up, I checked the Farmer’s Almanac on-line instead. I definitely got distracted on the way to corroborating the date:

According to folklore, you can stand a raw egg on its end on the equinox. 

Apparently the FA editors decided it was worth a try–and suceeded.

Some pithy verse:

One swallow does not make a spring.

Bluebirds are a sign of spring; warm weather and gentle south breezes they bring.

In spring, no one thinks of the snow that fell last year.

Don’t say that spring has come until you can put your foot on nine daisies.

Spring-time sweet!

The whole Earth smiles, thy coming to greet.

The vernal equinox signals the beginning of nature’s renewal in the Northern Hemisphere! 

  • Worms begin to emerge from the earth.
  • Increased  sunlight hours, with earlier dawns and later sunsets.
  • Birds are migrating northward, along with the path of the sun.

After checking out planting schedule links and other diversions, I discover Official Spring is Saturdayish and not Monday after all–Leap Year influence. Then again I knew it was spring about three days ago because:

1. A huge robin trilled a bodaciously loud and cheery morning song as I readied to get in my car and go to work. Having just read The Secret Garden, I felt compelled to chat with him. He must not have known the robin from that book as he utterly ignored me.

2. Cars are driving down the road with the ubequitious yellow bagged tires needing to be switched over from their studded weather partners.

3. Girls are wearing tank tops at school.

4. Daffodil points are cautiously peeking up out of the barren landscape.

5. Seniors are skipping classes more than attending them.

6. Black is no longer a first choice grab in my wardrobe. Got me a real hankering for purple, pink, and yellow.

7. Turtlenecks suddenly seem so negative. 

8. It’s not dark when I get home.

9. Primrose pony packs greet me outside the supermarket.

10. I set up my resin chair outside the front door. I’m catching any stray sun ray I can.

What spring signs are harkening your way?

 

Posted in Nature, reflections, Seasons, Uncategorized and tagged , ,
15 Mar 2016
2 Comments

Another Review Round Up


Yes, I do read grammar books for fun. You mean you don’t?

This lovely practically jumped into my basket as I was checking out of the library. I will search out the prequel at some point. Grammar is beneficial for many reasons. Beyond getting better marks on English assignments, it helps save lives without having to recert for CPR. Then again, CPR wouldn’t help Grandma as much as a well-placed comma.

There is also learning insignificantly important stuff that helps one sound more edumacated. Once you do check out the book, because you are so very enticed after this review, turn to the following highlights:

p. 29: good and well hint–good describes a noun or pronoun, while well is an adverb describing a verb and tells how. Verbs of senses use good, as in “that dairy farm smells good”. Use good and bad with feelings: “I felt bad that I disagree with you about that farm smell statement.”

p.32: apostrophes–don’t get me started. Making possessives out of plurals and vice versa is becoming an epidemic amongst businesses. “Find the best deals on cow’s in town.”

For fun (cheers, V!).
p.43: Briticisms:
apartment=flat, cookie=biscuit, elevator=lift, sweater=jumper

Every grammarian’s joke is found on p.65 concerning dangling participial phrases.

p. 91: hopefully is an adverb, not a filler. “Hopefully the cows know their way home”should be:”It is hoped the cows know their way home.” This is because they can’t drive, due not being able to steer.

Of whiches and whoms is on p.154: relative pronouns that or which (essential vs nonessential) who or whom (subject vs object:”Who will milk the cows?” “The farmer hired whom as the cow whisperer?”

p. 185: real words–all right not alright; regardless not irregardless; anyway not anyways

Plus, the red “More” in the title moves. At least it did one night. Dancing up and down and around on the cover like a first grader let out for recess. Tonight it didn’t. One shot grammarized? The hubs is my witness. My observations were not a result of over strenuous grammar absorption.

There are also scads of brilliant grammar-themed cartoons planted nicely throughout the book. I wonder if I could convince the admin of this being a textbook adoption?

Posted in education, reflections, teaching, Words and tagged , ,
13 Mar 2016
5 Comments

POM: March’s Weather Madness


While March Madness is usually associated with basketball and even consumer blitzes, March is madness when it comes to weather. One day lovely enough to doze in the sun, the next is a frightful onslaught of wind and rain. My daffodils are cautiously lifting their green points from the earthen bed, unsure of what will greet them–freeze or warmth. This poem dropped in my box today and is perfect after a soggy wind-blown weekend.

March Evening by Amy Lowell

Blue through the window burns the twilight;

Heavy, through trees, blows the warm south wind.

Glistening, against the chill, gray sky light,

Wet, black branches are barred and entwined.

Sodden and spongy, the scarce-green grass plot

Dents into pools where a foot has been.

Puddles lie spilt in the road a mass, not

Of water, but steel, with its cold, hard sheen.

Faint fades the fire on the hearth, its embers

Scattering wide at a stronger gust.

Above, the old weathercock groans, but remembers

Creaking, to turn, in its centuried rust.

Dying, forlorn, in dreary sorrow,

Wrapping the mists round her withering form,

Day sinks down; and in darkness to-morrow

Travails to birth in the womb of the storm
How is spring arriving in your locale? 

 

Posted in American poets, Nature, poems, reflections and tagged , , ,
10 Mar 2016
11 Comments

Reader Round Up: TAB Syndrome


Upfront and personal: I am not a quitter.

I will gamely finish the less-than-savory pasta I paid for at the overrated restaurant, keep eating salad until the last of the holiday pounds melt away, and keep grading essays until my eyeballs roll around to the back of my head.

I stick to it. Just so you know.

That being said. I am struggling with my reading habits these days. I used to stick with a book, even if it took me days and weeks to soldier on, I would finish it, gritting teeth if necessary (Henry James’ The Portrait of a Lady comes to mind). Lately, I give a book approximately five chapters, roughly a hundred pages, before I judge and jury it back into the library bag for prompt return. My dilemma is this: Would a true Book Booster succumb to TAB Syndrome? Is it acceptable that I wontly and willingly set aside a chosen read and it becomes The Abandoned Book?

Maybe it’s because I realize there are so many books out there waiting for me. Why should I commit to reading something that I really don’t like? Frank Zappa, of all people, is credited with saying:

I have dismissed the following books in the last couple of months.

Starlight on Willow Lake by Susan Wiggs.

 

image: amazon.com

My mom recommended this author. Often. Frequently. *sigh* Trying to be the good daughter,  I gave it go. Mom and I have different tastes in reading. I toss out titles to her. She tries them and politely responds how the book didn’t quite work for her. This time she tossed out an author to me.  Apparently Susan Wiggs is a popular, best selling author of over 35 books. I had no idea. A whole shelf is dedicated to her novels at our library, or at least ones that haven’t been checked out.

This particular plot focuses on a mother embittered by life since she is now a quadriplegic from a skiing accident that also killed her husband. Her three children are all successful and have aptly provided for her–she is at odds with the oldest son who would rather send a check than visit with mumsy. Mums burns through caretakers like bees flit through a garden. This is where the underdog caretaker is hired. There is also the cold, yet efficient assistant/fiancee to said distant son. I knew where this was going after I read the blurb. I would have hung in there, as I don’t mind the romantic trope of jerk-son-gets-bested-and-turned-around-by-single-mother-with-a-heart-of-gold-who-has- two-extremely-needy-daughters plot. I’m not terribly prudish, yet when everyone starting dropping profanity as if the educated 10% do so because it must be oh-so-cool, I thought “Five chapters–I’m out of here.” Sorry, Mom.

Next up was an AP recommended author I’ve been putting off reading because his writing style is so Joycian. I don’t mind creativity, but I do like commas and other regular punctuation. Emily D is an exception–dash it all, I can handle her penchant for pause for something as short as her poetry. An entire novel of creative punctuation is too much for this English teacher.  So I got Cormac McCarthy’s All the Pretty Horses as an audio book. If I can’t see the punctuation misdemeanors I can simply focus on the story. Wrong.

I really like John Grady Cole. He reminds me a bit of a young Paul Newman in his cool, calm and collected approach to life. I even tolerated Lacey’s potty mouth because his colorful vernacular was such a part of who is. He probably couldn’t talk if a swear word wasn’t in there. Plus, the audio book reader was talented at creating distinctive characters. I hung with Horses until John Grady and Lacey get hired at the Mexican ranch. As soon as the boss’s daughter arrives on the scene I couldn’t bear the heartache of watching John go down as he fell for her. I became too attached. Maybe I’ll watch the movie. I can always fast forward Matt Damon’s pain.

 

 A student wanted to do David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas for his Author Spotlight and I try to check out what my students are reading. I tried to get involved in the book, the premise sounds fascinating; however, I couldn’t get past the guy sifting the rocks for cannibal teeth so he could make dentures for a high society lady and then tell her that she was chewing with said teeth. Too gruesome for me. I might give it go sometime, someday because the switched storyline style intrigues me. There is also the movie.

I have abandoned other books. Not often, but I do. I don’t feel this guilt out ejecting a movie from the DVD player. Somehow setting aside a book is like walking away from a conversation. It feels rather rude. I’m working on casting off this guilt. There are, after all, so many other conversations waiting for me out there.

Anyone else struggle with TAB Syndrome?

 

 

Posted in bloggers, Book Boosters, Libraries, Literature, Reading, reflections and tagged , , , ,
05 Mar 2016
25 Comments

A Puzzling New Pastime


As much as I love to read in the evening, sometimes I find myself dozing off, getting soundly thwacked in the face. Noses do not generally make for comfortable bookmarks.

With the evening still stretching out ever so long–dark, dark at 5:30 pm *blech*–I try to find ways to stay awake until at least 9:30 or 10 pm. If I go to bed any sooner I am up at 3 or 4 a.m. [My body automatically wakes after 6 hours of sleep. Alarm clocks are a waste. So much for sleeping in. My family jokes about setting Mom instead of an alarm clock if we need to get up early]. I’m willing to get up at 5 a.m–not 4 a.m.

So–long evenings, what to do?

During the day, when I’m not teaching the joys of literature, I’m on the computer grading, answering emails, creating lesson plans, doing more grading, and I’m not real thrilled about jumping on the computer when I get home.

The hubs would be content watching a movie [we don’t do commercial TV] but that’s a lot like screen time to me and I enjoy peace and quiet after a full day of teen jollity.

We tried cribbage. Backgammon too. He’s a chess guy. I’m a checkers fan. Not a knitter.

And then, there I was at the library. Right next to the magazine exchange rack I spy  a new addition: puzzles!

I grew up watching my dad patiently wangle his way through landscape puzzles. Those teeny tiny pieces of chopped scenery boggled my little mind. It looked like boredom in a box and I avoided puzzles growing up. Besides the boredom factor,  I like life organized, and puzzles remind me too much of trying to fix something that was broken. Spin ahead a few decades, and standing there in front of all those free puzzles at the library I became somewhat transfixed. Dad always looked so calm slowly piecing together those pictures. Why not?

Bringing home a puzzle proved much more complicated:

  • a dedicated table is needed
  • a certain light is necessary
  • a certain dedicated area is both needed and necessary

It only took two weeks and five stores to find the perfect table. It took a half hour to clear out a corner. I’m still trying to find the perfect light. But–

We are now on our second puzzle. 

The hubs worries over the quiet addiction that is developing. One little piece leads to another, then another, and soon two hours have gone by. I was almost late to work one morning as we battled out the last twenty pieces of placement. I’m in my coat, lunch bag and purse slung over the shoulder, and I keep muttering: I need to go. I don’t go because I found the tree branch piece and that means it connects to the sky, which bridges the roof to the chimney…Is there a twelve step program for puzzlers?

I am a bit puzzled over our new pastime. I feel dociled, like I’m in a folksy home. I’m nervous about telling the kiddos their folks are puzzling. They will no doubt smirk and nod and sibling-text how cute we are growing in our older years. Fine. They do all that already.

Any one else a puzzler?

Posted in reflections, Uncategorized and tagged , ,

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