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This came in from Wordsworth:

Wow, call me teacher/poet/mouse from now on. I worked with some pre-schoolers and they loved me. One little girl was afraid at first but she became a fast friend. The teacher who read my Wordsworth Dances the Waltz had to stop because she got tears in her eyes. Wow…we were connected. Thank you Patrick Toal. Frances wasn’t even there…I went solo. My next class is at the Hilo Library on May 23rd. 2 WW in HI classWW in HI class6WW HI class

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To Wordsworth the Poet fans, please check him out at his own FB page. He’s complaining that no one goes there much. In today’s post, he is complaining how he was not flown first class from Sacramento to Honolulu to Hilo. He also explains how he was created. He’s getting pretty verbal, now that he’s so well-sought by his fans in Hawaii. Do you know Maui has now invited him over to visit their schools to teach them about Alzheimer’s and memory loss?  No, I was not invited.

https://www.facebook.com/WordsworthThePoet?fref=ts

 

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A Matter of Perception

weeds

The weeds have been crying for a weeder for weeks.

Still frozen in my winter lazy bones, I thought surely I can find a way to

get out of this…a little boy came to mind.

When I was a student in College of Educ, the professor demonstrated “how to read a story to 4 year olds.” Before she  could begin, a little boy asked, “Teacher, why is your hair all grey?”

Before she could respond, another boy turned toward the little boy and said, “Her hair not grey, her hair silver.”

So I took off my garden gloves and walked away, “Dem weeds not weeds, dem weeds flowers.”

 

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Seven year old Kollin was given my Wordsworth the Poet book and according to his mother, he kept rereading the book. You see, Kollin has Wordsworth inside him, too, because he wants to be an artist someday. Not a fiction artist, he said, but a non-fiction one where he will draw nature. One day his uncles took him shopping with “Buy anything you want.” Kollin chose a tablet and a box of crayons. His uncles told his mother, “Hey, something wrong with your son, we expected to buy him all kinds of electronic games but he only chose this paper and crayons.”

 

This is his book report on Wordsworth the Poet: He used a pumpkin to reproduce Wordsworth.

No wonder Kollin feels so connected to Wordsworth. I have offered to visit his class as Share and Tell and perhaps help release the little poets inside each child.

A generation ago, Kollin’s uncle had the same dream but his immigrant Hmong parents told him this is not why they came to America…he needs to let go his artist dreams and get a real job and he did.

4 WordsworthBooks

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In a restaurant today, a little boy, age 3 or 4 took his toy gun and began to point it at other diners and “shot” his gun that gave a popping sound.  Al l the diners responded positively, calling it cute and one even pretended to die. He went table to table. When he pointed the gun at me, in a very loud voice to be heard by his parents, I said very slowly, “Do – not – point – your – gun – at – me. That – is- not – a – good – thing – to – do.”  His parent scolded him for bothering me.

I thought of the supervisor of my practice teaching class in college. The children were 4 or 5 and she didn’t allow any guns for share and tell nor did she allow any guns in free play. ” Guns are for killing” , she said, and I took that with me  into the classroom for the rest of my career.

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I was thinking of a second grade class I visited as a  writing resource teacher. I worked with poetry in this particular class. On the last day,  a  little boy, who wore a baseball cap to hide  the after-effects of chemotherapy followed me to the door and said, “I floated on air, being with you.” How I wanted to stay and become God.

Yes, I Will

When he takes my hand in his,

His tiny little fingers curled around mine,

I am filled with a great sense of duty,

Duty to keep this world

Free from fear and evil.

 

When I feel his hand in mine,

The contrast: spring to autumn,

I feel compelled to live

Every minute of my life

With love and human kindness

So this world that belongs to him

Will be a place where his deepest secrets

Will be safe,

Where all his dreams and hopes

Become possibilities,

And this world becomes

The greatest, most trusted friend,

Anyone could ever have.

 

Oh, I will live so I can make

All the difference in his life,

For having trusted his hand in mine.

frances kakugawa: from Teacher, You Look Like a Horse

 

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Yes, I Will

When he takes my hand in his,

His tiny little fingers curled around mine,

I am filled with a great sense of duty,

Duty to keep this world

Free from fear and evil.

 

When I feel his hand in mine,

The contrast: spring to autumn,

I feel compelled to live

Every minute of my life

With love and human kindness

So this world that belongs to him

Will be a place where his deepest secrets

Will be safe,

Where all his dreams and hopes

Become possibilities,

And this world becomes

The greatest, most trusted friend,

Anyone could ever have.

 

Oh, I will live so I can make

All the difference in his life,

For having trusted his hand in mine.

frances kakugawa: from Teacher, You Look Like a Horse

 

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