A BIT OF CLASS FOR OUR MID-WEEK

There once was a young man from Lyme  

Who couldn't get his limericks to rhyme  

When asked "Why not?"  

It was said that he thought  

They were probably too long and badly structured and not at all very funny.

Anonymous

How is your summer going? 

Mine? Well have you ever heard the ancient curse that goes, "May you live in interesting times?" Well, I'm there!

Job hunt is not going so well. I hope you all are having better luck. Who in their right mind chooses a career where you go to school for seven years only to get pink slipped yearly and blamed for all of society's ills? Oops! My discouragement is showing. 

I know I'm hooked for life though. The time spent in the classroom is worth all the rest of the pain. (Don't tell any prospective employers though; they might expect me to work for free.)

TWEET, TWEET

This has been a sad week in the world. I know, it really hasn't been that much different than the week before, or the week before that. Maybe that is why it seems so sad. When I was younger, my anger was quick to spark and flash at the injustices and blindness. But now - I just feel sad. There is so much I will never understand. This is not a political forum, so I will simply ask: How can people say they have love for others when they know nothing of compassion, and take delight in their suffering?

Two lines from an e.e. Cummings poem, You Shall Above All Things, have been stuck in my head all week. (Maybe they'll stick in yours.)

I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance

A THOUGHT

If it was important then, maybe it is important now.

Just thinking.

DON'T WORRY. BE HAPPY.

You may notice a new permalink to the left,

that looks a lot like this:

I found a site that espouses a worthwhile philosophy not readily embraced these days. It also describes how my hubby & I tend to live our lives.

Not only is the phone in my purse only my second, purchased because it flipped shut to keep my purse from dialing Japan; but the Hubbs built most of the computers we've owned from other peoples' cast offs, as they sought the latest and greatest. Even our cars are "last year's" models. Who am I kidding? They belong to the "last millennium."

We hear the word recycle a lot, which should become a way of life. But not often in our advertising driven society do we hear the words, "Be happy with what you have."

Before we bought our first computer a friend told us that as long as it does what YOU need it to, it is not obsolete. I think that goes for just about everything.

Why, in June I will have had the Hubby for 20 years. He may not move as fast as the newer models, but that's not necessarily a bad thing!

And now for something completely different ...

Oh! Oh!

(George's wife Eileen and their son Robert)

       (George and son Robert)

George Orwell on teaching (which he did for a while to support his writing)

"No job is more fascinating than teaching if you have a free hand at it - though if you are forced to bore your pupils and oppress them, they will hate you for it."  

And here's the best part ...

"The best moment in teaching are ... the times when the children's enthusiasm leaps up, like an answering flame, to meet your own."

They say he was a well liked teacher, even though he was a bit of a disciplinarian. 

His wife, Eileen O'Shaughnessy, with an English degree from Oxford, also taught. (Not that an English degree is better than any other. Although I am quite fond of mine.)

... And like every self-respecting writer, he wrote poetry too ...

A Little Poem

A happy vicar I might have been

Two hundred years ago

To preach upon eternal doom

And watch my walnuts grow;

But born, alas, in an evil time,

I missed that pleasant haven,

For the hair has grown on my upper lip

And the clergy are all clean-shaven.

And later still the times were good,

We were so easy to please,

We rocked our troubled thoughts to sleep

On the bosoms of the trees.

All ignorant we dared to own

The joys we now dissemble;

The greenfinch on the apple bough

Could make my enemies tremble.

But girl's bellies and apricots,

Roach in a shaded stream,

Horses, ducks in flight at dawn,

All these are a dream.

It is forbidden to dream again;

We maim our joys or hide them:

Horses are made of chromium steel

And little fat men shall ride them.

I am the worm who never turned,

The eunuch without a harem;

Between the priest and the commissar

I walk like Eugene Aram;

And the commissar is telling my fortune

While the radio plays,

But the priest has promised an Austin Seven,

For Duggie always pays.

I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls,

And woke to find it true;

I wasn't born for an age like this;

Was Smith? Was Jones? Were you?

Doggerel seems to lighten the political tone in his poems.

Huzzah!

It's been just over a week, now, since I finished the teacher credentialing program. I am now a credentialed Educational Specialist (Level I). 

Job applications, 

ho ...

I decided to take a few days and decompress from a stressful year, but that's not happening. Life doesn't stop - or even slow down - because I want to rest! 

I have been able to read, though. I've missed it so. I'm reading about George Orwell. Did you know his real name was Eric Blair? I also read Temple Grandin's The Way I See It; a very informative book. When I get a few pennies, I would like to read more by her. That's about all I've read so far; but it's only been a week, and I've been busy. 

I did treat myself to a new book of poetry as a graduation present. It is called Geese in the Fog, by Sylvia Storla Clarke; a retired RN from Chico. I love finding local writers I like. I'd like to share one of her poems. Again, this is by way of celebrating my change in status. I'm no longer a student (for a few months any how) and can enjoy my other title. See if you can guess what that is.

The Grandma House

Once she was a young house

with saplings and a vine,

small white garments, in ballet,

dancing from the line.

Then, she was a lonely house

without a childish song,

who sobbed into her fading eaves

all the seasons long.

But now she is a Grandma-house

with oaks and ivied walls,

cookie jars, and lemon drops - 

and children in her halls.

What Do You Think?

I have been trying to emulate an application I've seen on some web sites wherein the reader clicks on a button and changes the size of the print they see on that site (not their own browser). I would like to have that installed on this blog, unfortunately I can only find it in code form. Being that I'm not quite a programmer yet, I haven't been able to make it work. I will continue to work on it, but if anyone knows of an alternative, please let me know.

In the meantime, I ran across this and thought it might be helpful.

Readability : An Arc90 Lab Experiment from Arc90 on Vimeo.