S.Maria Paul was the meanest teacher on the face of the school-world. Everyday(and I mean everytime we had class) she put 15 or 20 topics on the board and we had 10 minutes to write an essay. This essay would be graded under the awesomely scrutinizing eye of an English genius. I loved it!
I was so sad when she died. Composition class in freshman high-school was exciting and challenging. I had no idea what a dangling participle was or a run-on sentence, or a prepositional phrase or any of the agreed upon correct usages of the English language until I got them wrong in Maria Paul's class.
She was a genius, she knew that the best way to teach us was to let us tell her how much we didn't know everyday.
Thesis statements and iambic pentameter became a tool, because she gave us that tool.
I wrote and wrote and wrote after that and then.
One day My dad found my poem laying around and set the type for it(Archaic; for printed it out on a special machine, his trade). A gift from him to me. He loved the fact that I was writing and couldn't tell me in any better way than to set the type for my poem.
A while ago, I dreamed about my long lost educators; S. Amadeus and S. Maria Paul and S. Jeane Ursula and one other nun that I can't remember who she was. They were sitting next to a broken down wall and doing cross-stitch and I was walking between their chairs while they stitched and every time I walked between the chairs I got a happy feeling and when I was behind them or in front of them I felt regular.
The skills that they were teaching were stitching up Ichabod (I think). The skills of language and communication and self-control and even some of the meanness are skills that build a civilized society and break down some of the effects of idolatry on our fallen wicked race.
At least, it is doing that for me...
(forgive the run-ons):)
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
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Title- The Studious One!
artwork by Elyse
Of biscuits and syrup
tasty treats
Happy Saturday!
a day at the Raptor Center.
Widdle Emmie in outer space school
Emmie jumped on the bus and off it flew out into the atmosphere. There was a set of clouds with turbulence right above the house and it took a few minutes for my Emmie to buckle her seatbelt. They hit the bump hard and it knocked my Emmie out of her seat and she bumped her head. The video camera came on and the monitor looked through and stated, Ms. Emmie, where are you? You are not in your seat. Where are you? I am alright I fell because I hadn’t buckled correctly. Well jump up Emmie we have a long way to go and you have to be buckled there is entirely too much turbulence in the stratosphere for you to unbuckle now. As soon as we are through this weather system there will be straight sailing but right now you must buckle. Emmie scrambled into the seat with intensity and purpose now. She watched every cloud pass her window and her nose was pressed to the window trying to see the top of the house as it drifted slowly out of sight. Soon they were not only out of sight of the house, the sun came out brightly and just as quickly they were putting on the atmospherical breathing apparatus and the outerspherical lights. The ABA and the OL. These precautions were to make them appear to be satellites to the radar as they were out in the ionosphere. Emmie knew all about this now. She had gone to the orientation and had a good breakfast and it took them 20 minutes for her to get out past the atmospherical pull and to feel the zero gravity. It would be 15 minutes before the gravity simulators would take effect, a glitch in the system which was being worked on. Until then, they enjoyed the couple of minutes of floatation, while being connected to the seats by belt. The first thing they saw everyday was the strataflotsam. The items which had been dumped into the atmosphere by earlier generations. What would their generation do about this ecological waste area that remained floating above their heads? This was a question for the generations. For now it was the area that they had to guide through on the way to school.
Midnight at the OASIS
Sunset in Huntersville
My little Emmie
ran to the bus on the first day of the last year of school. 2 buns on the side of her head. She kissed me and ran at dawn to the bus. She was starting the adventure of a lifetime. I would never see that little girl again, she was going to woman school!
My Father and I 1989
to the tune of Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme
A VISIT TO PAPA
Are you going to Mary Immaculate?
Apricots, Chocolate Cherries and Pie,
Remember me to the one who lived there,
He once was a true love of mine,
Tell him to buy me an acre of land,
Apricots, Chocolate Cherries and Pie,
Between the muddy Hudson in Jamaica Bay,
Then, He’ll be a true love of mine,
Tell him to sow in it seeds of pure cream,
Apricots, Chocolate Cherries and Pie,
And build Ice cream mountains and buildings of whipped cream,
Then, He’ll be a true love of mine,
Tell him to reap them with sickles of M&M’s,
Apricots, Chocolate Cherries and Pie,
And chew bubble gum and eat till we’re done,
Then, He’ll be a true love of mine.
Tell him to run it off down the motor parkway,
Apricots, Chocolate Cherries and Pie,
After your done 50 pushups
and jog down the West Side Highway,
Then he’ll be a true love of mine…
(Don’t wait for me today dad, The kids are sick again, My tummy’s bulging again, My heart is aching again, And now there’s no love there…)
He once was, a true love of mine….So, Girls, I do beg you don't miss your Daddy,Apricots, Chocolate cherries and Pie,You have one short chance to see him on this side, Go visit him and let your light shine.
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