Graduation is over - what next?

Often times when we think of graduation from high school, we think of the young adults whose lives are just beginning.  We think of all the hopes and dreams we have for them and all the hopes and dreams they have for themselves.  We think of new beginnings, new paths, new life... but, for the teacher, graduation marks the end of another year spent investing in the lives of young people.  For me, it is a hard time.  I pour so much of my heart into developing the day-to-day relationships with my students.  The end of the school year is always bittersweet to me, like mourning a death, remembering a lost love, reminiscing past experiences, realizing lost dreams....  I always have to remind myself that this is a cycle, part of life's ebb and flow.

This year held a different experience for me - I participated in a new capacity.  My daughter graduated from high school.  I was afforded the opportunity to present her with her diploma on stage for all to see.  I am finding it difficult expressing my thoughts and emotions as a new parent of a high school graduate.  My daughter will turn 18 in just a few days.  While my role as her mother will never change, my role as her caretaker and guardian will change.  Letting go seems to be one of the hardest things to do.  People give all sort of advice for dealing with your child becoming an adult but the fact is, every situation is different.  Every relationship between a parent and a child is different.  As a parent, we know this time in the lives of our children marks a new start for them.  We know they are embarking on a new journey.  The problem is, we also know this newness, this new journey, often means we play a lesser role in their life.

Assessment time

Reading The Yearling has taken much longer than I anticipated.  We are too close to the end of school to finish the book in class.  My hopes are that some students will take the initiative to finish it over the summer.  There are several kids who have informed me that they have finished the book already.  A couple have mentioned they want to finish.

I found an assessment for the book online and have attempted to use it.  It appears pretty elementary but my students are struggling with it.  They are so used to a specific type of format, anything that strays from the norm seems difficult for them.  I am holding steady - I expect them to "do their best"...

We haven't even made it to chapter 20 yet - that was my goal for the year.  The farthest any class made was chapter 17.  Therefore many have not read about Jody's trip to see Fodder-wing in hopes of getting a name for his fawn.  They don't know that Fodder-wing dies before he gets there - but, named the fawn without even seeing him.  The rest of the story will not unfold before my kids this year - unfortunately.

I went to the "Creek" - I ain't no yearlin' no more....

I went to the Creek.  A fresh, new experience - but also one that dripped with familiarity.  I feel like I have found a lost friend.  I have learned so much about the heart of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings and, add that to my assumptions, I feel a kindred spirit.  I have made the trek to Cross Creek - in search of what, I cannot say... but I found myself separated from the world for a short time as I walked through the farmhouse, the orange groves, and along the beaten paths that opened before me.  I imagine her heart, MKR's, was not unlike mine or most women for that matter - but words... words to describe that, I cannot seem to form them with my mouth or in my mind.  Perhaps I need to ponder more...

Pa gets snake bit, Fodder-wing is sick, and Jody gets a fawn...

My students are not going to finish the book - we are too close to the end of the school year.  It is my hope that they have read enough to provoke their curiosity and, hopefully, may choose to finish over the summer.

My students have embraced the "reader's theater" approach to reading aloud.  Even the most reluctant readers are involved.  Today, I overheard one student updating another student about the parts he missed.  The most wonderful thing is - this student, the one telling the other one, has been a borderline student all year.  He doesn't volunteer to read aloud and turns in work which is mediocre at best.  HE was actually informing the other student, and doing so accurately.  This was a huge success!  I was SO proud!!

We are less than 200 pages into the book - chapters 16-18.  Pa and Jody went hunting for their hogs, whcih have mysteriously disappeared, and Pa was bitten by a rattlesnake.  In order to draw out the poison, a deer was killed for its kidney (I believe it was a kidney). This action resulted in the does baby being parentless - a young fawn.  Interesting side note, the female deer, the doe, is spelled the same way as does (meaning to do something).  The students have struggled with reading this new word in text.

Anyway,  Jody is sent to the Forresters to get Doc Wilson.  Doc comes to help along with Mill-wheel Forrester and Buck Forrester.  Mill-wheel returns home the next day alond with Doc but Buck stays back to help out the Baxters while Pa is sick and recivering from the snake bite.  Jody has gone and retrieved the fawn and claimed him for his pet.  Buck teaches Jody about the responsibilities of surviving in the scrub.  They hunt for meat and stalk wild critters who come in the night and eat their crops.  Buck and Jody go to the "bee-tree" to gather honey, reaping the largest harvest of honey Buck has ever seen.  All of this leads to a bear attack on the Baxter homestead.  The bear is evidently attracted to the the newly acquired honey loot.  Life is getting exciting in the scrub!!

I am anxious to make a trip to Cross Creek tomorrow - to see M. K . Rawlings homesite, the origin of The Yearling...

Blogging is not my strong point...

So, I am a terrible blogger...

Honestly, life gets so crazy busy at the end of the school year - it's hard to do anything with much effort.  I have spent too many days working outside my classroom.  My students and I began reading using the "Reader's Theater" format.  This was new to me (and them) but seems to be something they are enjoying.

I have scheduled my trip to Cross Creek!  I plan on going this Friday... pictures will surely follow!

The whoopin' cranes is dancin'

From Chapter 10 of The Yearling:


He pointed. "The whoopin' cranes is dancin'."

Jody saw the great white birds in the distance. His father's eye, he thought, was like an eagle's. They crouched on all fours and crept forward slowly. Now and then Penny dropped flat on his stomach and Jody dropped behind him. They reached a clump of high saw-grass and Penny motioned for concealment behind it. The birds were so close that it seemed to Jody he might touch them with his long fishing pole. Penny squatted on his haunches and Jody followed. His eyes were wide. He made a count of the whooping cranes. There were sixteen.

The cranes were dancing a cotillion as surely as it was danced at Volusia. Two stood apart, erect and white, making a strange music that was part cry and part singing. The rhythm was irregular, like the dance. The other birds were in a circle. In the heart of the circle, several moved counter-clock-wise. The musicians made their music. The dancers raised their wings and lifted their feet, first one and then the other. They sank their heads deep in their snowy breasts, lifted them and sank them again. They moved soundlessly, part awkwardness, part grace. The dance was solemn. Wings fluttered, rising and falling like out-stretched arms. The outer circle shuffled around and around. The group in the center attained a slow frenzy.

Suddenly all motion ceased. Jody thought the dance was over, or that the intruders had been discovered. Then the two musicians joined the circle. Two others took their places. There was a pause. The dance was resumed. The birds were reflected in the clear marsh water. Sixteen white shadows reflected the motions. The evening breeze moved across the saw-grass. It bowed and fluttered. The water rippled. The setting sun lay rosy on the white bodies. Magic birds were dancing in a mystic marsh. The grass swayed with them, and the shallow waters, and the earth fluttered under them. The earth was dancing with the cranes, and the low sun, and the wind and sky.

Jody found his own arms lifting and falling with his breath, as the cranes' wings lifted. The sun was sinking into the saw-grass. The marsh was golden. The whooping cranes were washed with gold. The far hammocks were black. Darkness came to the lily pads, and the water blackened. The cranes were whiter than any clouds, or any white bloom of oleander or of lily. Without warning, they took flight. Whether the hour-long dance was, simply, done, or whether the long nose of an alligator had lifted above the water to alarm them, Jody could not tell, but they were gone. They made a great circle against the sunset, whooping their strange rusty cry that sounded only in their flight. Then they flew in a long line into the west, and vanished.

Penny and Jody straightened and stood up. They were cramped from the long crouching. Dusk lay over the saw-grass, so that the ponds were scarcely visible. The world was shadow, melting into shadow. They turned to the north. Jody found his bass. They cut to the east, to leave the marsh behind them, then north again. The trail was dim in the growing darkness. It joined the scrub road and they turned once more east, continuing now in a certainty, for the dense growth of the scrub bordered the road like walls. The scrub was black and the road was a dark gray strip of carpet, sandy and soundless. Small creatures darted across in front of them and scurried in the bushes. In the distance, a panther screamed. Bull-bats shot low over their heads. They walked in silence.

What a beautiful experience!  Like Jody, I found myself wanting to lift my arms in the dance, I wanted to sway back and forth, up and down, to the song of the cranes.  I wanted to lay back and soak in every speck of the experience.  I walked away from this chapter in silence too - seeing only the majestic birds dancing before an audience of one - dancing before their maker.  What a beautiful experience!

Blogging is not for babies...

Well, so far I have not proven to be a faithful blogger.  Life is busy.

I have spent the past couple days working on revising the curriculum for the next school year.  This is my first opportunity to be involved with that, and it has not been an easy task given the district expectations.  This has caused me to be out of the classroom for two days in a row.  So, while I was away, my students should have read chapters 7, 8, and 9 of The Yearling.  I know, I haven't blogged since chapter 3 ended - that will have to wait for tomorrow... my mind is tired for today.

I have not given up - I will run this race and keep the blog going until I finish The Yearling with my students and get to make that SO desired visit to Cross Creek, Florida!

P.S.  Yes, I know there is a leg in my picture.  It is my son.