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Tag Archives: reflection

The end of National Poetry Month 2013

I’ve been participating in National Poetry Month for the first time sine my freshman year of college, and I have to say it was refreshing. Yesterday, April 30th, was not only the final day of NaPoMo and the PAD Challenge, but it was the one year anniversary since I last stepped foot into a poetry classroom as a student. I took one poetry class a semester during my undergrad, which came out to be 21 credits with the same professor. Poetry was my therapy through my college years, and I never would have discovered my love for writing if I hadn’t accidentally been placed in an Intro to Creative Writing course the first semester of my freshman year.

Since my last poetry class a year ago, I’ve neglected my poetic writing, only occasionally writing for poetry readings I’ve been invited to perform at. It’s really easy to neglect your first writing love when you have a blog and social media taking up so much of your life. Writing a poem a day during the month of April was a bit stressful, yet relaxing, all at once. While I wrote way more haikus than I ever have before, it still felt good to be writing poetry. On the days where I wrote more difficult poetry forms, I felt alive. It felt so good to be writing each and every day, and to be challenging myself.

So, I’ve decided to try to incorporate my first love of poetry into my blog. I’ll be implementing “Poetry Wednesdays” because, apparently, Wednesday is the day of the week I blog the least on.

Thank you for joining me on this PAD Challenge.

Here are all the poems I wrote over the past month:

4/1/2013 - an arrival poem

4/2/2013 - bright poem, dark poem

4/3/2013 - a tentative poem

4/4/2013 - Hold that (_______) poem

4/5/2013 - a “plus” poem

4/6/2013 - a “post” poem

4/7/2013 - a sevenling poem

4/8/2013 - instructional poem

4/9/2013 - hunter/ hunted poem

4/10/2013 - a suffering poem

4/11/2013 - in case of (blank) poem

4/12/2013 - a broke poem

4/13/2013 - a comparison poem

4/14/2013 - a limerick on writing sonnets

4/15/2013 - an infested poem

4/16/2013 - an im/possible poem

4/17/2013 - express poem

4/18/2013 - an “I Am….” poem

4/19/2013 - burn poem

4/20/2013 - a “beyond” poem

4/21/2013 - a serenyu

4/22/2013- a complex poem (villanelle)

4/23/2013- a love poem or an anti-love poem

4/24/2013- an “auto” poem

4/25/2013- “Everyone (blank)”

4/26/2013- a cast poem

4/27/2013- a mechanical poem (substituted mechanical for recipe)

4/28/2013- a shadorma poem

4/29/2013- take the line of a previous PAD poem & use it as the title

4/30/2013- a finished or unfinished poem

“You know Miss B, this whole thing has me wondering…would you take a bullet for us? Be honest.”

I’ve blogged about my student teaching experiences before, and how I’ve handled my sexuality in the classroom, dealing with the aftermath of Sandy in my school, and other experiences. However, I never expected to have students ask me if I would take a bullet for them.

After some reflection, and getting the go-ahead from my cooperating teacher, I decided to discuss Friday’s shooting in my classes today by opening up with a Do Now that read “What have you heard about Newtown, Connecticut?” I figured that this would open up a conversation if students wanted to discuss it, and even if they didn’t, writing a response in their journals would allow them to at least process it a bit.

I allowed the first 10-15 minutes of two of my classes for students to discuss the shooting and the fears, and my double period spent the entire first period of class discuss the shooting and why violence happens. It was a really insightful conversation. We even discussed the history of school shootings, and whether or not there’s a difference between a school shooting in an elementary school versus a school shooting in a high school. My Creative Writing class talked about the shooting for about half of the period. In all of my classes, we discussed the different stories that had been emerging, as well as the differences between fact and fiction regarding internet rumors about the shooting. This led to the discussion of various individuals who had either lived or died, and how the media had conveyed them.

At one point, one of my Creative Writing students said, ”You know Miss B, this whole thing has me wondering…would you take a bullet for us? Be honest.” I responded, “Am I ever anything BUT honest with you?” (The question initially caught me offguard, but it was something I was asked more than once today.) Then I asked for a moment to gather my thoughts before stating the following:

“As a teacher, I feel my number one priority is to create a safe learning environment for my students, and to make them feel protected and safe. Teachers are responsible for the well-being of their students, and I’d do anything in my power to protect you from harm’s way. While I hope I never have to dive in front of a bullet for any of my students, the fact of the matter is I care about all of you and would put your needs before my own, as I have done multiple times without you realizing it, because you are my responsibility, and because I care about all of you a lot.”

My students trust me to protect them and support them, and I don’t think I’d be okay with the idea of me not doing so. My answer might change slightly in a few years when I have a family of my own, but my students will still be my students and my responsibilities won’t change.

I think that reassured them more than anything else. I’ve also been reiterating in all of my classes that, even when I leave on Friday (my last day of student teaching), I’m here for my students if they need to talk, and that I do care about each and every one of them oh-so much.

Victoria Soto, the teacher who hid her students in their cubbies and then took a bullet for them, has been on my mind a lot this weekend. I found myself questioning whether or not I’d have the courage to take a bullet for my students, and, at the end of the day, there is no question about it. Protecting my students and helping them succeed to the best of my abilities is a large part of being a teacher. If this meant taking a bullet for them, then yes, I would, because my students mean the world to me.

teachers

I saw this floating around Facebook today and it seemed fitting for today’s post.

World Suicide Prevention Day 2012

Today I painted my nails yellow because a) Avon gave me free yellow nailpolish at BlogHer and b) today is World Suicide Prevention Day.

I noticed a friend’s Facebook status announcing the day yesterday, and, after consulting Google and confirming the Day, I felt it was necessary to wear yellow.

The only problem was I don’t own anything yellow.

I’m pale, I’m ginger, and yellow just isn’t a complimentary color for me.

I finally found a flowered dress I had bought in the spring with a hint of yellow here and there on it, and the yellow nails completed the outfit.

When I arrived at school, I was shocked to see so many people in yellow. Maybe it was pure coincidence, but the amount of yellow roaming the halls of my school was overwhelming. With suicide, there’s a certain degree of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” in regards  to the topic. All day, I never asked my colleagues or students about the sea of yellow surrounding me, and they, God bless them, never made a comment about my schoolbus yellow nails.

I was also supposed to light a candle at 8pm, but apparently matches were something I never thought to pack when I moved. Instead, I had a moment of reflection with an unlit candle and the photos I’ve been carrying in my wallet for almost a year now…

In memory of Lauren

As Lauren herself said, “We always question the people who look more upset and depressed than usual, and never think to worry about the people who don’t seem capable of expressing any sort of negative emotion at all.” Reach out to a friend you haven’t heard from in awhile tonight, and let him or her know you care. You never know what kind of difference you’ll make.

This post is dedicated to all of those who left this world too soon due to suicide, and to all of those who have attempted suicide. You’re in my heart today.

I will be joining with thousands of people nationwide to walk in AFSP’s Central New Jersey Walk to benefit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. The walk is happening on September 30th, 15 days after the one year anniversary of Lauren’s death. It means a lot to me to be able to walk in memory of my friend so close to where she spent so much of her time, and I hope you’ll consider joining Team Lauren with me.

The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is at the forefront of research, education and prevention initiatives designed to reduce loss of life from suicide. With more than 36,000 lives lost each year in the U.S. and over one million worldwide, the importance of AFSP’s mission has never been greater, nor our work more urgent.

I hope you will consider supporting my participation in this event. Any contribution will help the work of AFSP, and all donations are 100% tax deductible.

To donate towards my fundraiser, please click here.

To join Team Lauren on September 30th, click here.

Thank you. <3

Reflection on suicide

Suicide is a tricky thing to try to understand.

This year, I’ve unfortunately experienced a lot of suicide in my life. The suicide that sticks out to me the most is that of my friend, L, because hers was the first suicide I experienced firsthand, and because she was so damn similar to me.

In September, L took her life. It was incredibly shocking, as she was one of the strongest, fiercest individuals I have ever met. She was a role model of who and what I wanted to be in life, and we shared a lot of similarities. She was a strong advocate in our queer community at school, and many people looked up to her. She was a phenomenal artist in many senses, but she especially found beauty in the simplest of moments behind her camera lens. Her photography made emotions come alive on film. She was also an incredible writer, and an English major. She was a year ahead of me in the Graduate program I’m in, and I would often go to her for advice on my education classes, being an out and proud queer woman, and the power of being a queer educator. Her ferocious love for others and being an advocate for the underdogs taught me more about myself and about making a difference through what I love doing. L’s death ultimately changed me for the better, and gave me more confidence in being myself and doing what I love (writing!) to make a difference.

I found myself writing a lot of poetry following L’s death, reflecting on not just the despair and sadness of suicide, but, in an odd sort of way, reflecting on the strength it must’ve taken to end it all by taking her life. There’s a certain bravery associated with suicide that is never addressed. People say “Oh, what a terrible waste” or “how sad.” Yes, suicide can be considered those things. However, most times, the reputations of people who kill themselves are lost in the transition from “my amazing friend” to “my friend who killed herself.” The things someone does with his or her life before committing suicide shouldn’t be lost to a “tragic” or “sad” title of “suicide victim.” Maybe, just maybe, being a suicide committer is a title of bravery in finding the courage and strength to find a solution, albeit drastic, to one’s problems when nobody else will. It’s important to remember a deceased friend for who they were and the amazing things they accomplished, not how they died.

Oddly enough, I found out yesterday that L’s partner, R, attempted suicide and was in a coma. A lot of people have blamed R for L’s death, and although I never felt blame towards R, I felt a lot of anger towards R for the way R told people about L’s suicide and the actions R took afterwards, and how they affected all of L’s friends. I didn’t feel anger towards R, only towards the way R treated everyone so deeply affected by L’s death. I was never particularly close to R when L was alive, so when I found out R had attempted suicide, I felt indifferent. It wasn’t until I was sitting alone today that I really had time to contemplate my feelings.

I may not have known R well, or been particularly fond of R all of the time, but one thing is for sure: R made a difference in the lives of everyone who met R. R was an activist, a rabble-rouser, and a passionate human being. Losing L devastated R in an extremely powerful way, and, from what I know, R’s last few months were troubled and painful, both emotionally and physically. However, as I found many of my friends reminiscing about R on Facebook, one post in particular stood out to me. My one friend had once asked R how R felt so comfortable being the individual that R was, and R replied, “Being okay with yourself is a process. A process is different than a state of being. Being happy and loving yourself is something you have to work at, something you have to put time and effort into and, most importantly, something you engage in daily. As with any process, it has its ups and downs.”

I think that’s a really powerful message, and that’s what I’m going to end my reflections with. I hope that somehow, somewhere, R & L are reunited, and that both of them are happy, healthy, and (finally) at peace with themselves. Oftentimes, suicide leaves the people and loved ones left behind with saddened hearts and more questions than answers. In this case, I hope both L&R have found less heavy hearts and the answers to their own questions. Rest easy.

Until next time, I leave you with this photo of a tree in my favorite park. The Hope Tree has special meaning to me, and I hope you’ll find meaning in it for you.

Memorial Day

My grandpa (Buster/Grandpa), my grandma’s brother (Uncle Johnny), and her father were all Vets. Every year for as long as I can remember my family has gone up to the cemetery Memorial Day weekend and cleaned up Uncle Johnny and grandma’s dad’s gravesites. When Buster died in April 2008, he was buried in the same cemetery and became part of the grave-cleaning tradition.

In 2009, the Memorial Day Weekend visit was especially emotional. It was the first Memorial Day visit we had had since Grandpa’s footstone had been put in. Seeing the flag next to his name brought out a lot of emotions in all of us. For me, seeing an old veteran hobbling around and and stopping at the graves of every service man and woman was particularly emotional.

After that visit, I wrote a poem that I like to share every Memorial Day.

“Memorial Day”

The hobbling man gives me
a lonesome nod:
recognition of my lingering gaze
as the rest tend to Grandpa’s grave.
Grass is trimmed,
a bouquet placed next to the flapping flag,
and mud is wiped away,
revealing “MM2 US NAVY.”
Grief falls from my eyes as I mourn
a nation of heroes beneath the earth.
My eyes return to the old man
who pauses at every flag-adorned grave.
He, too, is mourning
the price our country has paid.