Category: haiku

As an alternative means of capturing my thoughts and reflections, I write haiku about my teaching practice. This is the 13th post in the series.

Over the last several months, my writing has slowed. I noticed, but did nothing. So many impactful moments from inside my classroom and out have come and gone. Instead of grabbing them, holding them, and unpacking them through my writing, I let them go.

Writing here has always given me permission to slow down and uncover meaning from the constant blitz of teaching. As a result, this blog has helped make teaching sustainable. By forgoing the opportunity to reflect on the transition from last year to this year, I have created a void.

I’ll never know all that has passed me by. ∞


My hidden story
All that I failed to notice
Felt but never seen

bp

As an alternative means of capturing my thoughts and reflections, I write haiku about my teaching practice. This is the 12th post in the series.

Navigating the art of letting go of students each year has become increasingly difficult. My teaching has evolved to hinge on not only their learning of mathematics, but their stories and well-being as young people.

When my students move on to conquer new worlds, I stay back. My classroom welcomes new faces. I begin again. Permanence has no place in what I do.

At times, do I feel left behind? Do I feel like a part of me has left? Do I feel like a parent does after their child has moved out?

Yes.


A bleak and stalled truth
Two oruguitas released
Tomorrow is here

bp

As an alternative means of capturing my thoughts and reflections, I write haiku about my teaching practice. This is the 11th post in the series.

My students sit for their state test today, the fabled Algebra 2 Regents exam. The pandemic freed me from this calamity for two years, but today, like many things this year, it makes its return. With its reemergence comes the heart-racing build up, anxiety, and obsession on results. There is no bounce back, no retakes. It’s all or nothing. The thirty-seven problems my students will read and respond to in solitude this morning contradicts much of what I work to accomplish as a teacher. This is disheartening.

At the same time, if the length of a school year was mapped onto a football field, the three hours that the Regents exam takes up wouldn’t even amount to a yard. After so many varied experiences with my students, I refuse to give today more attention than it deserves.

This haiku attempts to carry what I’m feeling today.

Return to normal
Alone with thirty-seven
A mere three hours

bp

As an alternative means of capturing my thoughts and reflections, I write haiku about my teaching practice. This is the tenth post in the series.

As a teacher, I cherish every summer, but this one reached another level of appreciation. This one came on the heels of the most chaotic and unpredictable school year ever. A year I was thankful to survive, it left me hurting. By June, my wounds were throbbing. I was a fulfilled educator who had been hollowed out by remote learning. At the end of it all, I wasn’t even a teacher anymore. Like a fish out of water, I gasping for air until the very last day.

And so, I used this summer to simply breathe. To inhale deep and exhale slow, to breathe in ways that would help me heal. My breaths took many forms. Family getaways. Personal escapes. Great books. Reflective PDs. Lazy days at the park. Brisk laughter. Engrossed writing. Forgetting the day of the week.

The air has never felt as sweet or as full of life as it has this summer. The scars from last year will always be there, but I am restored.

It’s seems fitting that on my unofficial last day of summer, I write a haiku to pay tribute to the last two months of my life.

Summer of justice
Giving back what was taken
A teacher once more

bp