Tag Archives: Teachers


24 May

Then you stop worrying what they think. You just stop. You have you and that’s all you need for sight.

Take time in the morning to

12 May

assemble and enliven your character.

You want certain facets to change?

Re-write them.

You’re displeased with something?

Remove it.

You hold the pen. The pages are yours.

Be the author,


from journal

25 Apr

…if I go through past jots and be somewhat of an archeologist.  Makes me chuckle a bit when I say that, but that’s how I see it.  Digging through my old entries and looking for truths, gems, ideas, realizations and something to radiate in such a way I can’t ignore it.

Another note, “Take time to collect self before ideas.”  This too I need follow.  I can’t help but look at the clock and notice very blaringly I have less time but I can’t allow self to slow.  Right here, all around Mike Madigan is the Now, and this Now encourages me to see self at Stanford and other campuses talking about reading, writing, my focus authors, jazz in writing, and the nowness of the page.  How writing your now can be irreversibly magical and life-extending.  Extending life in that you learn more about you in that breath, in what you right now see, feel, hear.  My mocha nearly gone and I confirmed such by lifting up cup.  Should have bought some coffee while there to make in home so I have to rely on my already set energy and momentums.  Intensifying everything, seeing me in that Palo Alto classroom.  My lecturing on the essay… just wrote another note, posted it in a couple places.  Never say this but this morrow I’m on more than just a roll.  I see, I see, I can taste the lawn at Stanford…


Now Pages (writing prompt…)

24 Apr

Writing your scene, your currency, right where you are and what you see but not how it appears.  How you’re to put it to page.  Make it something different, something more exciting or dangerous, something odd.  Make what you see, the room you’re in or the picnic bench at which you sit, something else.  Become someone else in a different location.  Make it believably crazed.  Your writing in this piece should not only reflect your imagination’s expansive qualities and aptitude, but curiosity.  What the room speaks if you were there but in a different tilt and tint of it?  And, maybe, turn the room you’re in to something not even remotely contained.  Make it a cliffside, a beach, some alcove in an Arizona canyon.

Writing about your Now, yes, is focused on specifics but as well distances itself from where you are, who you are.  Crazed, and believably, honestly.  With sittings like this, producing pages predicated on and in immediacy there’s a devout liberty to your instincts.  Just write where you’re thoughts wish travel.  Curiosity’s its own cognition, and it can unearth gems for you, often.  But, there need be practice and inward conversation.  With this cue, remember, something else.  But, honest, believable, magnetic.  Right now where you write should never be seen as something boring, or incapable of translation and, or, re-translation.  All in your space is invitation.  Another intention of this exercise.

(my Now…). Stoic and stale cubicle spaces, trapping and teaching… “Don’t ever come back here again.’ They command.  I look at the gray-blue-purple-shale-coal color and feel sick, asking self ‘why’.  Phone rings, I imagine picking it up and someone telling I’m being sent out on assignment, to Africa, to write about tourism around a wildlife preserve and the animals roaming and surrounding.  Looking at the carpet walls of my cubicle, I see the stretch of that wild, arid stretch.  Some zebra, a couple wildebeest, then some other thin-legged animal that starts running.  I stay here in the swivel chair, listening to people make calls and promise things.  Sell things.  Things.  I want something else.

***Take a thousand words to write your now, right where you are, or somewhere you were recently.  Proximity and honesty are key, so be sure the location into which you dive and delve is truthful regarding when you were there.



21 Feb

View at Medium.com


8 Feb

Between classes. Sorting through

5 Feb

papers and wanting to do something different for next class, so the 1A-ers can feel more from the meeting.  Thinking of separating from the Plath chats for a moment or two.  Getting to know more about the students, and the student experience and story.  Eating some peanut butter-filled pretzels from the break room, and … that’s my lunch.  That’s me, now, in the conference room as I always am and writing to pass time but to as well collect.  Tomorrow, to other life, the business life.  But here, now, I’m present.  I’m a teacher.  Learning from students and being taught by them more than I conventionally teach them.  To me, teaching has always been learning, and re-learning.  Where teaching becomes flawed or weak, or “bad”, is when the educator either forgets how to be educated or thinks their self, plainly, is past it.  You’re always learning, regardless of how many years you’ve been doing anything.

Between classes, with all this stuff around me, no this table and on the bookshelves and what be, I collect, to self better connect.  I want to feel more from the meeting, more from the 90 minutes we’re together.  I already know where I’m going with the meeting, writing out a plan, more or less.  Think I may need something to eat, especially if I’m going for a run later.  Deciding… deciding what to do, pretty much the entire nuclear makeup of my English 5 meeting.  Deciding I’ll post to blog, then walk to caf’ and get something to eat, something small… life of a teacher, always clutter and always a heavy bag, always grading and always, always planning.  Always LEARNING, the only way I can be.  And I’m learning, that I have to eat to be my most successful functioning self, much I try to ignore the hunger, today, now, it me hits.  And hard.  So, picking up all this clutter, and taking off.