tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18329441139769737802024-03-24T00:09:50.419-07:00Writing My WayHeather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.comBlogger137125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-88024341025884001002023-11-28T15:39:00.000-08:002023-11-28T15:39:52.374-08:00Poop Notes #SOL<p>I hate when the kids leave. I fight to keep the tears at bay. I strive to stay productive. However, a blanket of sadness usually wraps around me.</p><p>After returning from dropping my daughter off at the airport on Sunday, I immediately prepped my lunches for the week because I knew that my motivation would wane after hosting my TeachWrite writing group at 2:00 p.m. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNOC7q7MYX2sxddPhAJk0TEzH4FI5hiavRvGKhou-LqyJLNYHeNGHndMmFl_SxVhPqqXaBZeQDJou7CQqil5YVJCsPLzXG8Mv0Lywtkd5zk-Zy3TJ4tkANAhjVt0Bk7qwL5wKzYD1dh7jy5_koFaR3hM57FDAfqQYj4B2XMV-h7Qtna8-Kxy-qDfOHV_A/s659/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-28%20at%206.33.16%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="659" data-original-width="499" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNOC7q7MYX2sxddPhAJk0TEzH4FI5hiavRvGKhou-LqyJLNYHeNGHndMmFl_SxVhPqqXaBZeQDJou7CQqil5YVJCsPLzXG8Mv0Lywtkd5zk-Zy3TJ4tkANAhjVt0Bk7qwL5wKzYD1dh7jy5_koFaR3hM57FDAfqQYj4B2XMV-h7Qtna8-Kxy-qDfOHV_A/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-28%20at%206.33.16%20PM.png" width="242" /></a></div>Not long after, I sat down at my desk to set up the Zoom meeting, and as I opened my computer, I saw a green sticky note with the word "poop" written on it on the inside of my candy jar. I smiled as I knew that my son left it while he was home for Thanksgiving. <p></p><p>I looked up at the lamp to switch it on and found another "poop" sticky note. Everywhere my eye could rest was a "poop" note. I opened the drawer and found another. I leaned back in my chair and found one on the edge of the desk. They were everywhere.</p><p>I texted my son ,"Thanks for the love notes." </p><p>He texted back, "Hope you enjoy finding them all." </p><p>Two days later, I found yet another. </p><p>Every. Single. Time. I smiled. Cam knows me well, and he knew just how to get me out from under that heavy blanket. </p><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWi4DdGHzUYEjV6Sb2EXduS8htcpgq5E-JGJzylB2A8uGyRUvzCV4VU3-3am2ys2b0iaF-QXQpwCxQXbvVa-G9djj19RBcFCEEZ_c8owVssvFOnz_RcwY-pO0oAFcAmMZfduuKYgCR7Q76rzQuGbmkGq43BPKfcWOu_n27cisk1z9wZ7lOvk-0v9n5KEo/s617/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-28%20at%206.33.26%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="617" data-original-width="504" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWi4DdGHzUYEjV6Sb2EXduS8htcpgq5E-JGJzylB2A8uGyRUvzCV4VU3-3am2ys2b0iaF-QXQpwCxQXbvVa-G9djj19RBcFCEEZ_c8owVssvFOnz_RcwY-pO0oAFcAmMZfduuKYgCR7Q76rzQuGbmkGq43BPKfcWOu_n27cisk1z9wZ7lOvk-0v9n5KEo/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-28%20at%206.33.26%20PM.png" width="261" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWi4DdGHzUYEjV6Sb2EXduS8htcpgq5E-JGJzylB2A8uGyRUvzCV4VU3-3am2ys2b0iaF-QXQpwCxQXbvVa-G9djj19RBcFCEEZ_c8owVssvFOnz_RcwY-pO0oAFcAmMZfduuKYgCR7Q76rzQuGbmkGq43BPKfcWOu_n27cisk1z9wZ7lOvk-0v9n5KEo/s617/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-28%20at%206.33.26%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFJ5L5gQLtnezBspYd_N8Ix_MhUZB5GAker5vrgdzToVJXhXDK-PgYoXZ_71ZBY_zLB8cjMK8dpQC_GmIRKXoT5MD-vTojR4PhWYJSL27zYts1XiEEMAguMH52eJn0aFU-hliz8rJWL0S_h2aHCmD46F1rchyphenhyphen5HqSaxJW0Xunz3_vS8nZwjONWV_m0XPM/s565/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-28%20at%206.33.01%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="511" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFJ5L5gQLtnezBspYd_N8Ix_MhUZB5GAker5vrgdzToVJXhXDK-PgYoXZ_71ZBY_zLB8cjMK8dpQC_GmIRKXoT5MD-vTojR4PhWYJSL27zYts1XiEEMAguMH52eJn0aFU-hliz8rJWL0S_h2aHCmD46F1rchyphenhyphen5HqSaxJW0Xunz3_vS8nZwjONWV_m0XPM/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-28%20at%206.33.01%20PM.png" width="289" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB6ciisNIamVTXePHFB0Qv1VM78fZ4hPFG6uwHyNaAXViFIuZYDcciSBgio8mZYI98375p7TRv6lVPYVeFUey4NTz4r2RUOGa8HcPXzsDjyEFDWhQ4kz1mat_9LXmQawbPV7on-mFhAmpB4Wo5-E6AOq_pCnSzmN0akGqUpuONYSJWZqH5JnUClgS7TxM/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB6ciisNIamVTXePHFB0Qv1VM78fZ4hPFG6uwHyNaAXViFIuZYDcciSBgio8mZYI98375p7TRv6lVPYVeFUey4NTz4r2RUOGa8HcPXzsDjyEFDWhQ4kz1mat_9LXmQawbPV7on-mFhAmpB4Wo5-E6AOq_pCnSzmN0akGqUpuONYSJWZqH5JnUClgS7TxM/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-5661619649059466792023-11-21T16:01:00.000-08:002023-11-22T09:20:25.842-08:00Fr-amily #SOL<p>A dear friend, or sister of my heart, called last night to deliver the most joyful news. She "might" come to Thanksgiving dinner. </p><p>I am not sure if I can fully express my joy enough for others to understand. Whatever happens, these words, and her bravery, have stirred my heart.</p><div style="text-align: left;">It has been a long time since we have gathered.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Our fr-amily has been isolated</div><div style="text-align: left;">by diverging lives as </div><div style="text-align: left;">our children have spread their wings</div><div style="text-align: left;">and have flown in different directions,</div><div style="text-align: left;">where once they were flying together.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Left behind,</div><div style="text-align: left;">we have all been trying to find </div><div style="text-align: left;">our place, our purpose again,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and while one would think</div><div style="text-align: left;">this might bring us closer,</div><div style="text-align: left;">a different monster has us reeling, </div><div style="text-align: left;">gauging, and treading a precarious landscape.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">An enemy has invaded</div><div style="text-align: left;">and taken hostage one of our own,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and we are all navigating </div><div style="text-align: left;">a new reality.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Slowly, we are finding our way</div><div style="text-align: left;">back together </div><div style="text-align: left;">because together we can </div><div style="text-align: left;">reclaim and celebrate the love</div><div style="text-align: left;">that has grown in this chosen family,</div><div style="text-align: left;">which will provide a respite </div><div style="text-align: left;">from any force that might dare try</div><div style="text-align: left;">to separate us.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9Iz4H4jb88qh7LQwnhErtFjpQqVODYx-UidaFbLskqB07rlZj1qFeQCwqT6xILHXmZ2gs4Xay_ydWTduC6hS784-G_KafqSeCC8hSm-U3kLQRUDDMVffKA8lmlZORY7LF0j4a2lMV-G3WxISaDvwwf-OlSqm31ZDOvFZqF2mxFn8VDheCLzUH6ojxQ8/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD9Iz4H4jb88qh7LQwnhErtFjpQqVODYx-UidaFbLskqB07rlZj1qFeQCwqT6xILHXmZ2gs4Xay_ydWTduC6hS784-G_KafqSeCC8hSm-U3kLQRUDDMVffKA8lmlZORY7LF0j4a2lMV-G3WxISaDvwwf-OlSqm31ZDOvFZqF2mxFn8VDheCLzUH6ojxQ8/w186-h172/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="186" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-30233011891819586102023-10-03T15:57:00.003-07:002023-10-03T15:57:33.241-07:00Cooking Is Emotional #SOL<p>Before Ashley left to start her nursing clinical rotations as a junior at UW Madison, we decided that we would meet over Zoom on Sunday evenings to prep a meal for the week. We have had two sessions so far.</p><p>I sent 3 to 4 recipes for her to choose from a few days ahead and make sure she had the ingredient list before the weekend started. Unfortunately, she waited to do her shopping the hour before our meetings, and each time there was a phone call from the store.</p><p>The first time: "Mom, they like have no chicken!" </p><p>This shopping experience resulted in the purchase of a rotisserie chicken, which should have made the work much easier.</p><p>The second time: "Where do I find parmesan cheese? What is poultry seasoning?" </p><p>After discussion and pictures sent via text, she came home with a few things she should have been able to keep in her pantry for other recipes.</p><p>I thought that would have been the end of the problems as she had taken 4 different foods classes in high school. I never could have guessed that those cooking sessions would be so emotional. There were tears, frustration, anger, and even violence.</p><p>In our first session, we prepared one of her favorite dishes - a Weight Watchers chicken and broccoli casserole. I like to prepare all of the ingredient before we start the actual cooking. The last ingredient we had to prepare was the chicken, and that should have been quick for her because she had a rotisserie chicken.</p><p>She took the chicken out of the container, looked at it, and said, "What do I do with this? It's gross!"</p><p>After a couple of close ups of the chicken in front of the camera, she had the chicken right side up, but she would not touch it. She tried to cut the meat off the bones, but that did not seem to work. She tried to take it off with her hands, but immediately started to complain. </p><p>The next thing I knew she was crying - I mean literally crying. </p><p>Eventually, she was able to get the meat off by hacking it with a chef's knife.</p><p>With a lot of patience and deep breaths on my end and tears and whining on her end, we created the casserole she loves. </p><p>for our second session, she chose a recipe from Skinny Taste's new <i>Simple</i> cookbook. All of the recipes include 7 or less ingredients. This seemed like it would be much easier.</p><p>Very early in our preparation, she calls out, "I do not understand why people thinking cooking is relaxing! I don't understand why people like cooking!"</p><p>After I explained that we were not cooking for relaxation but for preparation, she yelled, "I can't open the poultry seasoning!" She continued to wrestle with it for a few minutes, and then she stated, "Well, I'm going to hack it apart with this knife!" And that is just what she did. She took her anger out on the container and destroyed it.</p><p>Eventually, both cooking experiences ended in smiles. And I have to say that this time spent with her is worth all of those the emotions! I get about almost two hours of one on one time with her, and I will take that even if it is through a screen.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXt53M4A5D-r3U-_xElMjXo8IqELqc7C92V_P4-IVtTGYsBGRj1Ug71Ce_tz5Q96OgCArr0YUp5fjAhlWZ2j7vfByFiVACawA7xG8oNIdbwNb5vRtOB78qoYR6I-aSbwxNlBuDBy7gB6Go-XNOO1h3l8qZB7XM1DXc-yXFbNVj2KelMjFTnwApf9dzTs/s617/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-03%20at%206.49.05%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="617" data-original-width="530" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXt53M4A5D-r3U-_xElMjXo8IqELqc7C92V_P4-IVtTGYsBGRj1Ug71Ce_tz5Q96OgCArr0YUp5fjAhlWZ2j7vfByFiVACawA7xG8oNIdbwNb5vRtOB78qoYR6I-aSbwxNlBuDBy7gB6Go-XNOO1h3l8qZB7XM1DXc-yXFbNVj2KelMjFTnwApf9dzTs/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-03%20at%206.49.05%20PM.png" width="275" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFgKvoAQQF2d_9PFaWfAsZSJ3LHuxkK3cuR-NdH75dnOYhHb1iL0UcVsM9N3fnFKY27DyqDwlX3T4Ec3B_hg4LDhwtP2RNO9Ev4y6iCgZKa_2Wn3xxyAYk82SN25CZbHR5OlWAvKfU5SoqEv3eCwWliOYJHepo9a4NjZ-2bUSM5xCKP6a_BwJSCTuG40/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaFgKvoAQQF2d_9PFaWfAsZSJ3LHuxkK3cuR-NdH75dnOYhHb1iL0UcVsM9N3fnFKY27DyqDwlX3T4Ec3B_hg4LDhwtP2RNO9Ev4y6iCgZKa_2Wn3xxyAYk82SN25CZbHR5OlWAvKfU5SoqEv3eCwWliOYJHepo9a4NjZ-2bUSM5xCKP6a_BwJSCTuG40/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-63744445457903913122023-07-25T15:49:00.000-07:002023-07-25T15:49:28.027-07:00Changing Views #SOL<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Our street was alive this morning with an enormous crane, a wood chipper, chainsaws, and a zippy Bobcat. After 25 years, approximately 10 pine trees were removed from our neighbors' properties, seven of them were on edge of our land. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Many people from the neighborhood were out watching five men skillfully removing trees along fences, next to houses, and against power lines.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At one point while inside the house, I could hear the chainsaw just outside the window. I went outside to see the tree that was on our side being lifted above the fence. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9nNPoeczCHVxD99kFNTgDRQay2AG0jLEtk4WCHnBdjQR1fIJsolW2mutcEc-m6ZmXiGnAFUYQC2FuFygJRHqSRq9I2eiR3RDz_sWPGILNbko4bvy7XXLQinPHy0u9wR7och6uTi5ZVkOf_2E663mLNYlQwihQxfCZ4zwNxWW418SwK5JhsGf4jf31E8/s921/Screen%20Shot%202023-07-25%20at%206.31.53%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="921" data-original-width="650" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9nNPoeczCHVxD99kFNTgDRQay2AG0jLEtk4WCHnBdjQR1fIJsolW2mutcEc-m6ZmXiGnAFUYQC2FuFygJRHqSRq9I2eiR3RDz_sWPGILNbko4bvy7XXLQinPHy0u9wR7och6uTi5ZVkOf_2E663mLNYlQwihQxfCZ4zwNxWW418SwK5JhsGf4jf31E8/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-07-25%20at%206.31.53%20PM.png" width="226" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>And then, it was floating high above our neighbor's house. </p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhktZY9NhxH7zf0Xl_l5CaaLvRkJ_8qDiMSRvSFcQF2e7TphnagTVZ3ArnkJnpSsms1kvac3kGrirpomwwQnE9nePw64-IlNEKrQB4XjxEBkRNNqXALViuSF3VxedCf0X-3_72BrLduNK9vznVaTIhkMeXgMWiqRI0Y6Pl9utTWixLHhTpUYsILbbSl6uo/s937/Screen%20Shot%202023-07-25%20at%206.32.19%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="937" data-original-width="701" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhktZY9NhxH7zf0Xl_l5CaaLvRkJ_8qDiMSRvSFcQF2e7TphnagTVZ3ArnkJnpSsms1kvac3kGrirpomwwQnE9nePw64-IlNEKrQB4XjxEBkRNNqXALViuSF3VxedCf0X-3_72BrLduNK9vznVaTIhkMeXgMWiqRI0Y6Pl9utTWixLHhTpUYsILbbSl6uo/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-07-25%20at%206.32.19%20PM.png" width="239" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Minutes later, it was being fed through a wood chipper. </p><p>And now, our voices echo in the driveway, and the neighbor is getting burned by the sun through her window. </p><p>The view from and of our older and developed street is now forever changed. I'm not quite sure how I feel about this. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX7tnlvd3ZJ6LBXhScXrXi6RFgGccDJQPTTpZDbJd0kgSfAGsnGJrM91djN-mACdfZiVszwsRi-T66bCi-iXAVkCEriCxK2emITgeM_3AT3HKmcjbFng5tOF8ZwIjLfJ-qfX4MW0qjs8iF416T9U3LBhCc1KAxOdD0jXjnqVLDA99nHJ7ymMBsj9sTv3I/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX7tnlvd3ZJ6LBXhScXrXi6RFgGccDJQPTTpZDbJd0kgSfAGsnGJrM91djN-mACdfZiVszwsRi-T66bCi-iXAVkCEriCxK2emITgeM_3AT3HKmcjbFng5tOF8ZwIjLfJ-qfX4MW0qjs8iF416T9U3LBhCc1KAxOdD0jXjnqVLDA99nHJ7ymMBsj9sTv3I/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-26951834529602146002023-07-18T15:51:00.000-07:002023-07-18T15:51:18.828-07:00Keys Are Needed to Unlock Too Many Things #SOL<p>Just as I sat down to host my writing group, I received a call from my parents. I assumed they were calling to tell me they got home safely, as they flew out of Connecticut earlier today to return to their home in Florida. It was a short but wonderful visit with our small family. </p><p>However, the tone of my mother's voice imparted that they were definitely NOT where they wanted to be. </p><p>She asked, "Heather, did your dad happen to leave our car keys at your house?" </p><p>My shoulders sagged as I responded, "Oh no, you can't find your keys?"</p><p>Even if we had them, we certainly could not solve their problem today. The keys are still missing, and I hope a friend can find the spare set at their home. </p><p>As I wait I wrote a nonet.</p><p>Keys</p><p>unlock </p><p>doors, boxes, </p><p>and other things</p><p>of value we aim</p><p>to keep safe from others,</p><p>but what is to be done when</p><p>we can't unlock the mind to find</p><p>the skeleton needed to go home?</p><p><br /></p><p>Last minute update just as I was about to hit publish: The keys were found! Um, they were found inside a suitcase they said they checked three times. But hey, this gave me something to write about.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2OYUOm-37FIyYaEhJ4RydtVVk5vfTD5Y-waiUe7VsixqGHoU_kSdscmfAjLqtnG8zzdUmNBsj0256SIJ30QAYbAq2OAP1TyrVg4iAjA_oipS6zWwRPBIrTELgnvjlVq_WldXByB2Uo-Zs8KvICCdFFV_cEeZNTuhafr6APrC8S7VpMx6rGkrRxY8Ke5I/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2OYUOm-37FIyYaEhJ4RydtVVk5vfTD5Y-waiUe7VsixqGHoU_kSdscmfAjLqtnG8zzdUmNBsj0256SIJ30QAYbAq2OAP1TyrVg4iAjA_oipS6zWwRPBIrTELgnvjlVq_WldXByB2Uo-Zs8KvICCdFFV_cEeZNTuhafr6APrC8S7VpMx6rGkrRxY8Ke5I/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-68460833679956011072023-04-15T07:29:00.004-07:002023-04-15T07:29:47.796-07:00Too Many Seconds Missed #VerseLoveThank you, Allison Berryhill, for the invitation to ponder what I've missed. This idea was a topic of conversation over drinks with friends last night. As a teacher, time off does not necessarily match up with the rest of the world. I feel that I have missed many moments in my children's lives, and it is even harder now that they are adults and off on their own. <div><br /></div><div>I recently missed Mother's Weekend for my daughter's sorority. She sent me pictures, attempting to keep me connected, but it hit my heart. I am going to plan carefully so I can attend next year. I only have so many more of these "mother" moments.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNKshOLX5sBxGDTUU9lhwhehypJ-bpnRoC3ZgB_bIfxlE24X0ovf5rmVcE2Zx_cNYc6PZ3InDZy9dNMLCHX1yAaDS9uBxZpGTax_5l_JZUSx564GYQpu8-rgqX5N0E64G7vcHO_etDFZnVVWUBGlGed4dqQXVX2ZyE2MH5LvTg9QOHr0M8HTd5oAGS/s1262/Screen%20Shot%202023-04-15%20at%2010.17.37%20AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1262" data-original-width="656" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNKshOLX5sBxGDTUU9lhwhehypJ-bpnRoC3ZgB_bIfxlE24X0ovf5rmVcE2Zx_cNYc6PZ3InDZy9dNMLCHX1yAaDS9uBxZpGTax_5l_JZUSx564GYQpu8-rgqX5N0E64G7vcHO_etDFZnVVWUBGlGed4dqQXVX2ZyE2MH5LvTg9QOHr0M8HTd5oAGS/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-04-15%20at%2010.17.37%20AM.png" width="166" /></a></div>I missed</div><div>a weekend by your side</div><div>with your "sisters,"</div><div>instead a friend stepped in my place.</div><div><br /></div><div>I missed </div><div>making bouquet bunches,</div><div>our fingers arranging the beautiful blooms</div><div>in the same room and not through text.</div><div><br /></div><div>I missed</div><div>too many seconds</div><div>because time is a treasure</div><div>that is difficult to find with you.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-65761719244684179582023-04-13T18:14:00.002-07:002023-04-13T18:16:26.454-07:00Finding Poetry #VerseLove<p>Thank you, Dave, for the invitation to find some poetry. I took a page from Kate Quinn's <i>The Alice Network. </i>I found two poems on two different pages, but this is the one I decided to share. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That seemed to be the end.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I laid my head back,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">the moon slid over the window--</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I blinked.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My face</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">managed to </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">gather </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">the raw shocking night.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was real--</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">just true horror,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">but I didn't have any more tears.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtrYzMHULDsI6wnv_N_GwWL0lUmxjuo7zln_gXw30ABpaYybwqjifIKhSwtFJTJ60azNIKgpDhjWRUGlCKU7GqqjH3Jssk257q1ulpRnpG1KwtaoopDQ88HqEyM9-kUZ_3ACHCRHeeesI1V3HzKGM1RSUrpUMpreq1Am0YB-uS4rKC1QFeTDfiQu6/s1082/Screen%20Shot%202023-04-13%20at%209.10.58%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1082" data-original-width="838" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtrYzMHULDsI6wnv_N_GwWL0lUmxjuo7zln_gXw30ABpaYybwqjifIKhSwtFJTJ60azNIKgpDhjWRUGlCKU7GqqjH3Jssk257q1ulpRnpG1KwtaoopDQ88HqEyM9-kUZ_3ACHCRHeeesI1V3HzKGM1RSUrpUMpreq1Am0YB-uS4rKC1QFeTDfiQu6/w366-h472/Screen%20Shot%202023-04-13%20at%209.10.58%20PM.png" width="366" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-87095766738331671832023-04-11T15:56:00.001-07:002023-04-11T15:56:22.852-07:00I'm Prime for Vacation Time #VerseloveThank you, Erica Johnson, for today's prime number inspiration. I am counting the days until vacation time. <div><br /></div><div>Breathing </div><div>in and out</div><div>biding time until</div><div>ocean waves envelop me</div><div>and carry the heaviness out to the sea </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPPERAix9LNyx2XhZBoS9xsbQ45Kuah4t8xgJV4qt48JdlUGO1Gr0AeRnK2tEN8VjxZh1nm-_yNKoM1W-y5A2uN9I44GXxwT8YP6vlINPEzOKhBPy-FSEtIPR-5GRyOCSANg_qbVjImHSQtFo1UZsw76BRUVRARJzwb1ibE9IUcsMmd0TCPSKYJ5kc/s1052/Screen%20Shot%202023-04-11%20at%206.55.45%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1052" data-original-width="986" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPPERAix9LNyx2XhZBoS9xsbQ45Kuah4t8xgJV4qt48JdlUGO1Gr0AeRnK2tEN8VjxZh1nm-_yNKoM1W-y5A2uN9I44GXxwT8YP6vlINPEzOKhBPy-FSEtIPR-5GRyOCSANg_qbVjImHSQtFo1UZsw76BRUVRARJzwb1ibE9IUcsMmd0TCPSKYJ5kc/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-04-11%20at%206.55.45%20PM.png" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-36409006313921307142023-04-10T17:02:00.000-07:002023-04-10T17:02:03.888-07:00Science in Verse #VerseLove<p>Thank you, Brittany Saulnier, for the invitation to bring some science knowledge and learning into poetry form. A few years ago, I thought my tree was dying. I saw a light green substance covering the bark, and the tree was dropping its leaves so much earlier than other trees. I took a picture to a local nursery and was told it was lichen. I spent some time researching, and I think I might have written a poem back then. </p><p>My students are writing tanka and haiku poems in class, so I decided to write a haiku.</p><p>Lichen is...</p><div style="text-align: left;">algae and fungi</div><div style="text-align: left;">in a symbiotic dance</div><div style="text-align: left;">protector of trees</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-79257456680855012052023-04-06T18:08:00.000-07:002023-04-06T18:08:46.917-07:00Sijo Struggles #VerseLove<p>Thank you, Barb Edler, for the Sijo challenge today. I have read Linda Sue Park's <i>Tap Dancing on the Roof: Sijo (Poems)</i> before and love this form, but boy is it hard to write one of my own. Thursday is my long day, and I am sitting in the library trying my best to put something together. My head feels like it is in a fog, so that is where I went with my poem. </p><div style="text-align: left;">Head is pounding from so much pressure; it can't make sense of much<br />Thoughts scatter, words escape; there's nothing let to formulate<br />Verse love is not enough for this writer - Sijo allergy</div><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-45456223247535466602023-04-05T16:51:00.001-07:002023-04-05T16:51:48.394-07:00Printed Delights #VerseLove<p>Thank you, Bryan Crandall, for the invitation to write a Drive-by poem to for someone worthy of a poem. It was perfect for today.</p><p>I have a student who got a 3D printer for Christmas. I shared that my son had one when he was younger, and I loved the different things he could create. Since then, the student has created and gift me two of his 3D creations. Today, I received the second. I am overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, and he is certainly deserving of a poem of appreciation.</p><p><b>Printed Delights </b></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Wiwd4LQeJQItB6jxmHv2YJXGO8C7fy54Z_Ml5Cu9troWVYY8nlTl_esp8tr30GqiNjm7wzhlXL07S6xdHGctiOU4fhJ3dfgVXZk88vdhUgwKnuNWPbFqHPSH7of7TvSiOccqbmPrMv2JY7dynm17vqQAxRC7wwwns1tZkAVNcV3pBBTIYC_yl3g0/s630/Screen%20Shot%202023-04-05%20at%207.48.33%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="436" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Wiwd4LQeJQItB6jxmHv2YJXGO8C7fy54Z_Ml5Cu9troWVYY8nlTl_esp8tr30GqiNjm7wzhlXL07S6xdHGctiOU4fhJ3dfgVXZk88vdhUgwKnuNWPbFqHPSH7of7TvSiOccqbmPrMv2JY7dynm17vqQAxRC7wwwns1tZkAVNcV3pBBTIYC_yl3g0/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-04-05%20at%207.48.33%20PM.png" width="221" /></a></div>You drop your bag</div><div style="text-align: left;">on the table</div><div style="text-align: left;">and dig for treasures</div><div style="text-align: left;">just for me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Then, you brandish</div><div style="text-align: left;">a creation made of</div><div style="text-align: left;">carbon fibers</div><div style="text-align: left;">for everyone to see.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My heart lifts</div><div style="text-align: left;">and joy flutters</div><div style="text-align: left;">as I am the lucky one</div><div style="text-align: left;">touched by your generosity.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR19tbwFJiAgs7x2NNTVyL3NESlCN-PBibkOKn2enjjTW7MJyS89zXs2L9YrdZpN-q8Pn_XXwNxRP4wcNMFFUUiFXJlTQpgytzpecdzQaH41FOklUYyTSIBCPRq5BNcOU_E792MOjMBxahIa1-GbsLNuhP39InaSmyrDgRCWdpKsL6kiEmq7XPy3G3/s1010/Screen%20Shot%202023-04-05%20at%207.48.45%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1010" data-original-width="836" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR19tbwFJiAgs7x2NNTVyL3NESlCN-PBibkOKn2enjjTW7MJyS89zXs2L9YrdZpN-q8Pn_XXwNxRP4wcNMFFUUiFXJlTQpgytzpecdzQaH41FOklUYyTSIBCPRq5BNcOU_E792MOjMBxahIa1-GbsLNuhP39InaSmyrDgRCWdpKsL6kiEmq7XPy3G3/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-04-05%20at%207.48.45%20PM.png" width="265" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-85452141455584461722023-04-04T15:53:00.001-07:002023-04-04T15:53:09.696-07:00Where I Am, I Begin #Solace and Connection #SOL<p>Thank you, Leigh Anne Eck, for the invitation to participate in the Solace and Connection round up. I need to be more present in nature, and I love writing about what is alive around me. </p><p>I am excited to dive <i>The Curious Nature Guide </i>by Clare Walker Leslie. I used your prompt to being where I am.</p><div style="text-align: center;">Dancing branches and soaring birds<br />beneath holes of blue.<br />A yellow crocus watches<br />cars rolling by.<br />Kids chatter<br />as the sun lowers<br />and the air cools.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">6:36 p.m.,</div><div style="text-align: center;">April 4th,</div><div style="text-align: center;">early spring,</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Shrewsbury, MA</div><div style="text-align: center;">in my front yard</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEefCDW81L8_rOX10GIgwHfdXzc2YoPqyytfmcevXYgr-vivixOulO-kOrZqyCM0foEQcLl6fYGLr4oD92mu9D-bnV-J7SShC13dzBF7cbHhGEyKMTB5awfvlBuW1Ljp7yCErqv9z_QJrEVvsDMdVCCPO3mkri2-p6gdP_gmvQTccT15IlebaorVq9/s1266/Screen%20Shot%202023-04-04%20at%206.52.14%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1266" data-original-width="980" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEefCDW81L8_rOX10GIgwHfdXzc2YoPqyytfmcevXYgr-vivixOulO-kOrZqyCM0foEQcLl6fYGLr4oD92mu9D-bnV-J7SShC13dzBF7cbHhGEyKMTB5awfvlBuW1Ljp7yCErqv9z_QJrEVvsDMdVCCPO3mkri2-p6gdP_gmvQTccT15IlebaorVq9/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-04-04%20at%206.52.14%20PM.png" width="248" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-26695378494240349342023-04-04T15:30:00.000-07:002023-04-04T15:30:23.755-07:00MCASing Away the Day #VerseLove<p>Thank you, Jennifer Jowett, for the permission to write a poem grammatically ungrammatical. I really hope my students did not follow this prompt today when writing for the standardized test. However, I had fun reflecting on their stamina and grit. </p><p>Students MCASed today</p><div style="text-align: left;">Houring through 180 minutes</div><div style="text-align: left;">choosing the bestest letter-</div><div style="text-align: left;">a show of the knowledging </div><div style="text-align: left;">of the passed year.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Essaying so porfoundly</div><div style="text-align: left;">the reviewers are having to</div><div style="text-align: left;">pick their socks up</div><div style="text-align: left;">so impressed they are.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-87331814564942321112023-04-04T15:08:00.000-07:002023-04-04T15:08:21.074-07:00Mellifluous Words #VerseLove<p>Thank you, Stacey Joy, for the invitation to write a haiku sonnet about a word that resonates with me. I am a word nerd, so today's prompt was a bit challenging. It was difficult for me to pick just one, so I included a few. You also combined my favorite form (haiku) with the most challenging form (sonnet) for me. I feel like I am going in circles a bit. </p><div style="text-align: left;">Mellifluous Words </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Difficult to find,</div><div style="text-align: left;">put together, and convey</div><div style="text-align: left;">the heart's intention</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sing soft secrets to </div><div style="text-align: left;">the wind and traverse the skies</div><div style="text-align: left;">to find open minds</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Pierce the soul, causing</div><div style="text-align: left;">ripples of thoughts that create</div><div style="text-align: left;">eternal changes</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Passed unto others-</div><div style="text-align: left;">sanguine and effervescent,</div><div style="text-align: left;">lifting spirits up</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Words matter</div><div style="text-align: left;">Mellifluous words spread joy</div>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-27576380543339884882023-04-02T11:39:00.005-07:002023-04-02T11:44:30.400-07:00If We Were Having Coffee Today #VerseLove<p> I am participating in Ethical ELA's #Verse Love where we write a poem a day for the entire month of April to celebrate National Poetry Month. Thank you to Kim Johnson for today's inspiration--Weekend Coffee Share Poem. </p><p>This poem is for all of the writers and teacher writers that have touched my life. </p><p><b>If We Were Having Coffee or a Diet Coke</b></p><div style="text-align: left;">If we were having coffee today,</div><div style="text-align: left;">I would stand up to hug you, </div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYCOmgbGKuhdE_GXLqJce7QWoJ_fLf1CX2gIwk_JETm78if2JfwprHonmwW6ocjej08Kx1EFFC40wdEEAgS0g8sIfX_bYEJArbxaORR4H6v7yEytfQGij-Rkd4nOcyMs3qtcd7kjRUFkOVuxGMPryaIEoGR-uAXgoi-nhufl6cXeuFymoGHfnCVKaD/s1048/Screen%20Shot%202023-04-02%20at%202.43.16%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1048" data-original-width="1044" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYCOmgbGKuhdE_GXLqJce7QWoJ_fLf1CX2gIwk_JETm78if2JfwprHonmwW6ocjej08Kx1EFFC40wdEEAgS0g8sIfX_bYEJArbxaORR4H6v7yEytfQGij-Rkd4nOcyMs3qtcd7kjRUFkOVuxGMPryaIEoGR-uAXgoi-nhufl6cXeuFymoGHfnCVKaD/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-04-02%20at%202.43.16%20PM.png" width="319" /></a></div>but ask if you were a hugger first;</div><div style="text-align: left;">my excitement would be palpable.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">If we were having coffee today,</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'd tell you I've been building</div><div style="text-align: left;">a new nest over the past three years</div><div style="text-align: left;">out of pens, morning pages, slices, and verse.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'd tell you </div><div style="text-align: left;">it has been sad and lonely</div><div style="text-align: left;">at times</div><div style="text-align: left;">but your words</div><div style="text-align: left;">are filling the spaces</div><div style="text-align: left;">between the twigs. </div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">If we were having coffee today, </div><div style="text-align: left;">I'd say thank you</div><div style="text-align: left;">for this community of writers;</div><div style="text-align: left;">it has changed my life.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-19132068869287969352023-03-31T17:08:00.002-07:002023-03-31T17:08:25.147-07:00Orange You Glad You Wrote Today? #SOLC23<p>I am going to end this challenge the way I end every week--with a little writing from my time tutoring my poetry pal. </p><p>We started our lesson today talking about shades of meaning and plotting sounds words on a continuum from quietest to loudest. We had a great discussion about the difference between piercing and roaring and added a jingle between muffled and clatter. We truly are kindred word nerds.</p><p>Then she chose to do some paint chip poetry. I picked out 6 random paint chips and a prompt card. Our poetry palette is pictured below. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPMNbZfaS3IG6E5cboHMlTF2FZ_mfPz6vhByhA2T7RFKH2dWHHxoVDligMpR3Ao19L9KxkEE4x3l0Neojm6B5HJ0y03LqDKlQiBSEjVZ3NH5NBX6ZhuSwqO2oxBoBUdDqaFS6QJ8AhHGUoK69QtCBbq1V7DjUYolZK7slpviz5Mz3v9bzH_V0NxZAG/s668/Screen%20Shot%202023-03-31%20at%206.20.06%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="516" data-original-width="668" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPMNbZfaS3IG6E5cboHMlTF2FZ_mfPz6vhByhA2T7RFKH2dWHHxoVDligMpR3Ao19L9KxkEE4x3l0Neojm6B5HJ0y03LqDKlQiBSEjVZ3NH5NBX6ZhuSwqO2oxBoBUdDqaFS6QJ8AhHGUoK69QtCBbq1V7DjUYolZK7slpviz5Mz3v9bzH_V0NxZAG/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-03-31%20at%206.20.06%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She wrote a poem about school memories each name inspired, and I wrote about a fictional school scenario.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">School Days</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I walked into school</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">after having sucked in the largest<b> breath of fresh air</b>,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">bracing myself for another day</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">inside the confining <b>concrete</b> walls.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I entered the classroom</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to find kids flitting about screaming</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">all because a <b>yellow jacket</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">was buzzing around a light.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Papers littered the tables and floor,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">chairs were toppled-</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">it looked like the innards of the classroom</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">had <b>spontaneously combusted</b>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I froze and stared,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>tongue-tied</b> as</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">one student greeted me,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Mrs. Morris, <b>orange you glad</b> you came to school today?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There is no better way to end a week than with a student who loves words and poetry as much as I do. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYUN5iF0VoTioSN3oFiuy27NjlmjrAEIpeK9mIgIeqbxLDAghRXWAQDH2Q56RaRBphEY3tCk3amn3DyQv63VPtTC-1H2Z0t_blGoRkH1IXD72Xt55A9ZY-lty3KYOrEP6iTflPUL0vVAYqTRFKSaxUZhYkzElZYGcVJNgegTAu51klgGxvBmosA9jt/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYUN5iF0VoTioSN3oFiuy27NjlmjrAEIpeK9mIgIeqbxLDAghRXWAQDH2Q56RaRBphEY3tCk3amn3DyQv63VPtTC-1H2Z0t_blGoRkH1IXD72Xt55A9ZY-lty3KYOrEP6iTflPUL0vVAYqTRFKSaxUZhYkzElZYGcVJNgegTAu51klgGxvBmosA9jt/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-74048893264168736082023-03-30T15:47:00.004-07:002023-03-30T15:50:22.232-07:00We Escape Together #SOLC23<p>Yesterday, I had a substitute in my class to allow me time to evaluate the data from the reading assessments I recently administered. The students were finishing up an escape room about Edgar Allan Poe.</p><p>I was disappointed to hear that one of the boys was very distracting in his group and not helping them complete the tasks. I decided to have a conversation with him because many students hesitate to work with him.</p><p>When we sat down, and I explained my concerns. He admitted that he was not a good teammate. He said, "I am just not good at escape rooms." </p><p>I asked if he would like an alternative assignment; he said no. He said he liked the idea of an escape room, but he felt he could not do it.</p><p>I have confessed many times to the class that if I would not escape a room on my own. An assignment like this is about teamwork. Each member of a team has something to contribute to the group, and I assured him that he had many strengths. I am not sure he agreed with me on that, but he left committed to doing his best. </p><p>With three minutes left in the period, his group came up with the lock codes for all four tasks complete. With no help or hints, they got every code correct. </p><p>The student started to jump and high five his group mates. They were the first and only group to escape the room. He came around the desk for his prize and looked at me and said, "You were right." </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLChd4ncJ4i1cPRVivCK9k4EGgWrCJ8QWpj57fDx4TeTi-Ovcaxz0DPLGEfy-VZTD2RFSh2PfQU_pvQmBHuRUM2ah_gsLgnERsuysqmjR0WkSwuiWBNCP4yNtX2j7OmbSmplzSdn0MlHFi8HUePXTc_vx4iwAr-CBw-3A7nKxGZ8vqMokAjWgBDsXR/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLChd4ncJ4i1cPRVivCK9k4EGgWrCJ8QWpj57fDx4TeTi-Ovcaxz0DPLGEfy-VZTD2RFSh2PfQU_pvQmBHuRUM2ah_gsLgnERsuysqmjR0WkSwuiWBNCP4yNtX2j7OmbSmplzSdn0MlHFi8HUePXTc_vx4iwAr-CBw-3A7nKxGZ8vqMokAjWgBDsXR/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-46497193614576452402023-03-29T16:19:00.000-07:002023-03-29T16:19:08.007-07:00Only One Vowel #SOLC23<p> Betsy Potash of Spark Creativity always has wonderful ideas for the classroom. Too often, I don't have the time to sit and read her posts on Instagram, but today she had me at "writing a poem with only one vowel." I could not resist. I continued to read and accepted her challenge. Here is my short poem using only o as a vowel. It perfectly fits my current vibe.</p><p>Work non-stop,</p><p>drop onto floor - </p><p>slow roll to morn.</p><p><br /></p><p><br />I would love to see others. I may even come back if I have time to write more.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRRq28LSix1vR8RhUvRh5CJcrQ7cmCQH0MMDyamXXeZJqOvUBVuo98taVB4-Ckk2AhHuENoIJbvufiVi0Jt6brbBfDVY4o7noKPdLKLhEkR8EvXZ9t34H9nQariIW9eAnN4APL6OX8fbhmMyigl6dKa2yx1Y0RH-ZeJzEvSfg_Q1134FdfEIdZdUMt/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRRq28LSix1vR8RhUvRh5CJcrQ7cmCQH0MMDyamXXeZJqOvUBVuo98taVB4-Ckk2AhHuENoIJbvufiVi0Jt6brbBfDVY4o7noKPdLKLhEkR8EvXZ9t34H9nQariIW9eAnN4APL6OX8fbhmMyigl6dKa2yx1Y0RH-ZeJzEvSfg_Q1134FdfEIdZdUMt/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-51571671859095167722023-03-28T15:59:00.005-07:002023-03-28T15:59:47.993-07:00A Nonet to Nothing #SOLC23<div style="text-align: left;">Stuck</div><div style="text-align: left;">searching,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but nothing</div><div style="text-align: left;">reveals itself,</div><div style="text-align: left;">laughing and taunting.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Frustration builds until</div><div style="text-align: left;">I pick up my pen to write </div><div style="text-align: left;">nothing a particularly</div><div style="text-align: left;">uninspired nonet to end its hold.</div><p><br /></p><p>I thought this was better than writing about the boys' bathroom shenanigans.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtnyswmOJZMyaLaje25zzQ7CxiUpE8qDKUadv_6ujYjCthmBInFLyZp2_Hoae2HRtR4lJKMn_iesEyepwv7vmettMKTgZko9gHLapEHG3cBVNc0s-ehrRO5uBbJCtxNKJPOE8hlI4_Gray3u-ag5KXTSfqmWeQxtu2mXaSx_k55YJTPHBf4eIzV8ZX/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtnyswmOJZMyaLaje25zzQ7CxiUpE8qDKUadv_6ujYjCthmBInFLyZp2_Hoae2HRtR4lJKMn_iesEyepwv7vmettMKTgZko9gHLapEHG3cBVNc0s-ehrRO5uBbJCtxNKJPOE8hlI4_Gray3u-ag5KXTSfqmWeQxtu2mXaSx_k55YJTPHBf4eIzV8ZX/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-15242839832152949042023-03-27T14:43:00.000-07:002023-03-27T14:43:01.125-07:00Adult Steps Are Like Baby Steps #SOLC23<p>I always tend to get the frantic texts from my twenty-year-old daughter during school. Not over the weekend. Not at night. Only when I am teaching.</p><p>11:17 a.m. text:</p><p>"I think I'm going to need a new phone before summer. This week I've taken out my SIM card 5 times because it keeps breaking. It stopped working a day or 2 ago."</p><p>Hmmm....She did not let me know about this over the weekend. I can feel my chest start to tense. I think <i>And what am I supposed to do? </i></p><p>11:19 a.m. response</p><p>"You are due for an upgrade, but you will have to go to the AT&T store."</p><p>She had all weekend to take care of this, but she decides to wait for Monday morning. I know she wants me to do something. I can see that in the responses she is sending, and then she reveals her motive for texting.</p><p>11:21 a.m. text:</p><p>"Lily suggested to have the phone send to me." </p><p>Meaning I go to AT&T and get the phone for her. BUT, I live 1,100 miles away. </p><p>I start taking some really deep breaths. Several of them. I look for an AT&T store near UW-Madison and find one not too far from campus. I send her the address and tell her to take an Uber. </p><p>The conversation goes on as she explains that she has to go to the gym and then eat before she can go to the store. She also has a chapter meeting at 5:30. Basically, she is insinuating she does not have a lot of time. She is quite the busy girl. </p><p>12:27 p.m. text:</p><p>"That's plenty of time right"</p><p><i>Yes, it is! Just go!</i> I want to write this, but I try to keep my frustration out of the texts. It is probably good that her phone does not work and we can't talk. </p><p>1:33 p.m. text:</p><p>"Going to AT&T now."</p><p>The texts continue as she makes her way to the store. </p><p>I anticipate a call. I even make a back-up plan with the teacher across the hall to cover for me when it comes. However, it never comes. </p><p>2:06 p.m. text: </p><p>"Getting it now!!!!"</p><p>She is taking some of her first real adult steps with only a little help from mom.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKiwd_SCRqdg1wP2JRSVykmXEU81MMsSDDuLxGy6NsyHFtlLxCTjyowD2bt8Y5w2ffr6Dmb6TXcK_HaBuod0xENN3nITbACQbn6uqtaF2PFvKImcJMgbRz52TDIA0jCweN0c7fZCducld6A8CryWROJJ-g7l5RvB8xZeX0jdz26ta46Yfm-0ujw6fC/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKiwd_SCRqdg1wP2JRSVykmXEU81MMsSDDuLxGy6NsyHFtlLxCTjyowD2bt8Y5w2ffr6Dmb6TXcK_HaBuod0xENN3nITbACQbn6uqtaF2PFvKImcJMgbRz52TDIA0jCweN0c7fZCducld6A8CryWROJJ-g7l5RvB8xZeX0jdz26ta46Yfm-0ujw6fC/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-23599758989785587352023-03-26T11:48:00.001-07:002023-03-26T11:50:03.126-07:00A New Nighttime Routine #SOLC23<p>The evenings can be hard for me. Exhausted from the day, I tend to want to snack even though I am not hungry. I sit in front of the television only half watching. I play on my phone, mindlessly scrolling for what can turn into an hour. None of this is healthy or fulfilling.</p><p>Last night, I found myself starting to rummage through the pantry for a snack to eat eat. When my husband is away for work, I find sadness creeps in because I am alone and miss my kids even more. That sadness tends to steer me towards sweets and chips. </p><p>I stopped and asked myself if I was hungry. I was not. I looked at the black screen of the television and thought about what I wanted to watch. Nothing. I had no desire to turn it on.</p><p>Suddenly, I picked up my knitting bag and book and went upstairs. I put some lavender drops in a diffuser, played instrumental ukulele covers on my phone, and sat down in my chair with my knitting. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFcp8YdYgr9Y_nkXfq3tnusPVDZCLBaARYa0CDX4i8wh9JnmdmR41jU40XWpuIyTXfAzk8SkbGXEyQ6ogK2GYUdMuEIWrEWp4sefQCXJj8l8gkoDKfcf79D4ZxAGOCwf8WNMKkGQoJnojfns9Wi7_Ayv3WQuWfZJQsqfDvvCaMK7v3S80MKLDFZ8L/s1490/Screen%20Shot%202023-03-26%20at%202.45.07%20PM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="886" data-original-width="1490" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFcp8YdYgr9Y_nkXfq3tnusPVDZCLBaARYa0CDX4i8wh9JnmdmR41jU40XWpuIyTXfAzk8SkbGXEyQ6ogK2GYUdMuEIWrEWp4sefQCXJj8l8gkoDKfcf79D4ZxAGOCwf8WNMKkGQoJnojfns9Wi7_Ayv3WQuWfZJQsqfDvvCaMK7v3S80MKLDFZ8L/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-03-26%20at%202.45.07%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>I hummed. I moved the needles, sometimes talking myself through the pattern. I let everything else drift away while I focused on the sound of the music and the movement of the needles and yarn. <p></p><p>I continued until I felt my eyes start to get heavy, and then I inspected my work and was relieved to find no errors. </p><p>When I climbed into bed, I was content. I put my head on the pillow without tears of sadness, closed my eyes, and feel asleep without any anxious thoughts. </p><p>That may have been the beginning of a new nighttime routine.</p><p><br /></p><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFnwWWq3FrRWaOow2n6LVRjH9IgnTcpjCuUWKiTRjWmkg6iy7-kBWjpKhyz8fWROcSBrMfib9fjERyVf9to9sW16MkV-xip4MqyK0qHbU4tgvFj7vpfqTRiRjkQihLMJQIn2YaltB6IuanRzeAqFHUJx-nCrY6DcBWGdI13RZiYEPoDgwOUCJwLjcF/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFnwWWq3FrRWaOow2n6LVRjH9IgnTcpjCuUWKiTRjWmkg6iy7-kBWjpKhyz8fWROcSBrMfib9fjERyVf9to9sW16MkV-xip4MqyK0qHbU4tgvFj7vpfqTRiRjkQihLMJQIn2YaltB6IuanRzeAqFHUJx-nCrY6DcBWGdI13RZiYEPoDgwOUCJwLjcF/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-69327574040130526372023-03-25T07:11:00.003-07:002023-03-25T07:11:59.708-07:00Fun with Titles #SOLC23<p> Thank you, Leigh Anne, for the inspiration and push to try a book spine poem today. I actually went to Leigh Anne's list of book title writing prompts she prepared for the Teach Write Academy. </p><p>I cut the titles apart and randomly selected 10 to create the poem. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhabWSfRVIK8N1v4THGNZSdp4Y48RT7XI6dujjg9RIcKHxx-UHx7jhbqvoezDtP87WAmbFrQxCFp3DEOWeBiWgIkRVCKLxeXJn_6PjbpC-fswtXVyxy6sAJOjg-9ftMkymZa6Xw2xjpuyiWI6jxEahCRRHTlhWb99PgzRWyFfJmZaOJa3LPsGtQGaFb/s738/Screen%20Shot%202023-03-25%20at%209.53.10%20AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="507" data-original-width="738" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhabWSfRVIK8N1v4THGNZSdp4Y48RT7XI6dujjg9RIcKHxx-UHx7jhbqvoezDtP87WAmbFrQxCFp3DEOWeBiWgIkRVCKLxeXJn_6PjbpC-fswtXVyxy6sAJOjg-9ftMkymZa6Xw2xjpuyiWI6jxEahCRRHTlhWb99PgzRWyFfJmZaOJa3LPsGtQGaFb/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-03-25%20at%209.53.10%20AM.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then, I started to rearrange them to create something that made sense, but I knew I would want two versions - the actual title with no words and another poems with a few words to connect the ideas. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibKYBlvuP5ld8Iu6Ogc1v1FnQb3dfIMBMEawpGbzRPnc03xNoGrg34NNGKBKE5a-0YF46Jv-nqhK1yyQxjMA7RY6vmmEaWtWJ8I8X0J66cK88s9K5stwGYe9iKDmipRzd10Y330E7GSfw_L66qj1OWJdx74tRFGDdOtGoYGwh4MUFn-j7V1jBCJOF7/s639/Screen%20Shot%202023-03-25%20at%209.52.59%20AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="560" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibKYBlvuP5ld8Iu6Ogc1v1FnQb3dfIMBMEawpGbzRPnc03xNoGrg34NNGKBKE5a-0YF46Jv-nqhK1yyQxjMA7RY6vmmEaWtWJ8I8X0J66cK88s9K5stwGYe9iKDmipRzd10Y330E7GSfw_L66qj1OWJdx74tRFGDdOtGoYGwh4MUFn-j7V1jBCJOF7/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-03-25%20at%209.52.59%20AM.png" width="280" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I wonder if I selected too many titles to create a poem. I feel that it needs more to bring it all together to convey the meaning I find developing in the titles I have put together. Here is the poem I created with only the titles: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Falling Short</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Waiting for Normal</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Rain Rising</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A Wish in the Dark</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Possibility of Now.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Words with Wings</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Freedom's Promise</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Finding Someplace</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Between the Lines</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Paper Wishes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I wanted more, so I added a bit more. This is the poem with some additional words to bring it all together. The titles are in Bold.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Falling Short</b> and </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Waiting for Normal</b>,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I feel the R<b>ain Rising</b>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I make<b> A Wish in the Dark</b>,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and feel the<b> Possibility of Now</b>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Words with Wings</b> bring </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Freedom's Promise</b>,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Finding Someplace</b> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Between the Lines</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">for my<b> Paper Wishes</b>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY_4KlAElgsH85Q2AKfyaNksR1pUahT6ut0ovlw-Dy6I2T3OEZtqBU90T_xbKFbNJdLYlS2bM88-z-bN7lo5ycAZI7dgIymEJsGVP97XtFjCxBsajTUofXakpdUJvaflAF1ICcGFdWrsPTmUd-hHXPZwP9nhi6PZCSKu4_QtomP3VfRo0y5yiDK6jE/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY_4KlAElgsH85Q2AKfyaNksR1pUahT6ut0ovlw-Dy6I2T3OEZtqBU90T_xbKFbNJdLYlS2bM88-z-bN7lo5ycAZI7dgIymEJsGVP97XtFjCxBsajTUofXakpdUJvaflAF1ICcGFdWrsPTmUd-hHXPZwP9nhi6PZCSKu4_QtomP3VfRo0y5yiDK6jE/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-89111479194357288482023-03-24T17:13:00.001-07:002023-03-24T17:13:11.296-07:00My Thoughts Are Sleeping #SOLC23<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My thoughts are sleeping,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">they have been on a hamster </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">wheel all week running, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">and now, energy sapped, they</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">have decided to collapse</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7HuvrxKKP_zbeld50cQCmcqIO4SoLqjKVLawF2iVGw4-4bgFJytGnVaa9Bj_nDG-ha8m2Th4OWOANDDMjbyGWrwPqmL6mdM50ExB-Hm_STK6eV6UEL1iFjzK0zVVlWfQhjIv580v6CZvaoESo_otYLo3PYnSUQYx5Dev4gJS18rSIFO7KSrbwxxeJ/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7HuvrxKKP_zbeld50cQCmcqIO4SoLqjKVLawF2iVGw4-4bgFJytGnVaa9Bj_nDG-ha8m2Th4OWOANDDMjbyGWrwPqmL6mdM50ExB-Hm_STK6eV6UEL1iFjzK0zVVlWfQhjIv580v6CZvaoESo_otYLo3PYnSUQYx5Dev4gJS18rSIFO7KSrbwxxeJ/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-78792044090418878312023-03-23T15:29:00.001-07:002023-03-23T15:29:18.345-07:00My Special Four Corners #SOLC23<p><br />Thank you to Megan's slice for the inspiration today. I am going to share the 4 corners that surround me for most of the day and bring me so much joy because of all the students that share the space with me.</p><p>Top left corner: My classroom library. This is where two books shelves stand filled with bins of books that are worn and tattered from greedy hands. There are more books displayed on top, along with my Harry Potter Legos. I love to sit with students to find a book for them to enjoy.</p><p>Top right corner: Metal cabinet. Inside the cabinet, there are word games, escape rooms, Legos, paper brown bags filled with writing inspiration, puzzles, and books. It is a cabinet of goodies for a word nerd!</p><p>Back right corner: A file cabinet and book shelf filled with lessons, books, and units. 19 years and 3 grades worth of lesson materials and units are housed within these drawers and upon these shelves. On top are pictures and mementos of years of teaching and a few writing games. In essence, it is the history of my learning and growing as a teacher and learner.</p><p>Back left corner: The entrance. There is a community "Where I'm from" poem written by my 8th graders handing on the door and a sign that says "We Can Do Hard Things." I love to greet my students as they come in the door each day. </p><p>What are in your four corners?</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY394C9thh8ko48XmitMpLs6pGLmgJeEE2MuLY-glveG-7gh3071hU0qZ4Fu6AghRmEsFDHilYJZ4YCaEIag96_2Pr6YSUulsZlk_IebTYZaJbpzUE_gy4W4LPOH8c7Fz83kf_YdD4TdyIpFN51nQdARpxKNK9tR55dEM_7WQYyoe33IXPmSdFLqsJ/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY394C9thh8ko48XmitMpLs6pGLmgJeEE2MuLY-glveG-7gh3071hU0qZ4Fu6AghRmEsFDHilYJZ4YCaEIag96_2Pr6YSUulsZlk_IebTYZaJbpzUE_gy4W4LPOH8c7Fz83kf_YdD4TdyIpFN51nQdARpxKNK9tR55dEM_7WQYyoe33IXPmSdFLqsJ/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1832944113976973780.post-81263542737663803302023-03-22T15:41:00.001-07:002023-03-22T15:41:06.707-07:00Riddlanka #SOLC23<p>A few months ago, my writing group hosted a writing party at which we wrote riddlekus - riddle poems in the form of haiku. It was a blast, so I took it back to my classroom and had my 8th graders write them for attendance questions. They were a big hit, and my 6th and 7th graders often ask for more. </p><p>We are going to read Nikki Grimes' <i>Garvey's Choice, </i>which is written in the tanka form. I am going to task my writers to write a tanka poem about an important object as a riddle. I will have days worth of attendance questions, and the students will enjoy trying to guess the objects. </p><p>I am going to create a mentor poem here.</p><div style="text-align: left;">every morning it</div><div style="text-align: left;">patiently waits for me to </div><div style="text-align: left;">sit, open, and share, </div><div style="text-align: left;">thoughts trickle out of my head</div><div style="text-align: left;">between its covers, unseen</div><p>What is it?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1lnvduamExoHB-BqAnB_ig9MPDgW2PRHSRK7xHBEirVCkfjnzH0uWmL0954bU7VgZDKisXGbhRESRQfe90drmtKWvAPSgFutBSmAl46jP_wHBoEvKk9A2S0EV3TciKdUXxIhEw2gYRQlDaYxRM2HlgZG3lbu8he_XqOnVWCwjfa8jTQ937BXzmtaL/s916/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="916" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1lnvduamExoHB-BqAnB_ig9MPDgW2PRHSRK7xHBEirVCkfjnzH0uWmL0954bU7VgZDKisXGbhRESRQfe90drmtKWvAPSgFutBSmAl46jP_wHBoEvKk9A2S0EV3TciKdUXxIhEw2gYRQlDaYxRM2HlgZG3lbu8he_XqOnVWCwjfa8jTQ937BXzmtaL/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-11-15%20at%206.59.47%20PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Heather Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02256834517040704696noreply@blogger.com5