Category Archives: Reflective Moments

To Look at Any Thing

Posted on June 1, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I have had a rare opportunity in life to be a teacher. The pinnacle was being a teacher at Stony Creek. I knew what it meant to be a teacher. I had several conversations today about what we share with each other. John Moffitt wrote this beautiful poem. I interpret part of the poem as being the need be present and share our stories. Teachers and hockey coaches can make a difference in children’s lives. I need to be vulnerable. Parker Palmer suggested teachers live at the most dangerous intersection of personal and private life. I will miss that aspect of the classroom. I got to be a teacher. I got to know what that meant, because I looked at it and lived it as fully. It brought peace to my life.

To look at any thing,

If you would know that thing,

You must look at it long:

To look at this green and say,

‘I have seen spring in these

Woods,’ will not do–you must

Be the thing you see:

You must be the dark snakes of

Stems and ferny plumes of leaves

You must enter in

To the small silences between

The leaves,

You must take your time

And touch the very peace

They issue from.

9 Comments

Posted in Community, Education, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments, Sabbath and tagged creativity, education, John Moffitt, leadership, Mindful Practice, poetry, teacher as transformer, To Look at Any Thing. Bookmark the permalink.

The Opening of Eyes

Posted on May 31, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

David Whyte wrote this wonderful poem and it resonated with me today. We hold considerable wisdom collectively and individually. We each need to open all our senses and be receptive to what we hold. It is in the silence that we learn so much.

Today, only a few students attended. I decided some time ago that our Fridays would be art day due to the low attendance. Students focused on activities and silence reigned. I heard in the silence they want to finish the year positively.

That day I saw beneath dark clouds
the passing light over the water
and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
I knew then, as I had before
life is no passing memory of what has been
nor the remaining pages in a great book
waiting to be read.

It is the opening of eyes long closed.
It is the vision of far off things
seen for the silence they hold.
It is the heart after years
of secret conversing
speaking out loud in the clear air.

It is Moses in the desert
fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes
as if to enter heaven
and finding himself astonished,
opened at last,
fallen in love with solid ground.

13 Comments

Posted in Community, Education, Lesson Plans, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged Art, community, creativity, David Whyte, education, Mindful Practice, poetry, teacher as transformer, The Opening of Eyes. Bookmark the permalink.

Silver Star

Posted on May 29, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

William Stafford wrote this wonderful poem. Today, as I wondered what I should post, I came across it. It is weird in a way, but I am rarely concerned with what people think about me. More accurately, I do not place much emphasis in quantity. I prefer quality in my relationships, people who think of me for the right reasons. They care and their words are true.

People are aware I am leaving the profession. It is to hear words of gratitude from students and their families, including former students. I do not hear the whole world say, “Good job”, but I hear the right part of the world saying it.

To be a mountain you have to climb alone

and accept all that rain and snow. You have to look

far away when evening comes. If a forest

grows, you care; you stand there leaning against

the wind, waiting for someone with faith enough

to ask you to move. Great stones will tumble

against each other and gouge your sides. A storm

will live somewhere in your canyons hoarding its lightning.

If you are lucky, people will give you a dignified

name and bring crowds to admire how sturdy you are,

how long you can hold still for the camera. And some time,

they say, if you last long enough you will hear God;

a voice will roll down from the sky and all your patience

will be rewarded. The whole world will hear it: “Well done.”

15 Comments

Posted in Community, Education, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged community, creativity, education, Mindful Practice, poetry, school, Silver Star, William Stafford. Bookmark the permalink.

The Child in Me

Posted on May 28, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

What if I could just lay outside with grass as my green carpet and the sky replete with clouds as my ceiling? We leave childhood behind so easily?

I lay on green carpet shaggy–

Enrobed in leaves’ greenery;

Silent words breezily whispered–

Bluest blue ceiling revealed;

Cotton batten shapes dance–

Oh, just for me this day!

Night arrives–

The sky wrapped in ebony–

Distant neon signs wink–

Moon’s maternal smile–

Each welcomes–

Just me, this night!

A child’s heart, a child’s mind;

Paints precious images–

Hold close;

Do not let them fade–

Close eyes:

Priceless memories, just for me!

16 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Nature in All Its Glory, Reflective Moments, Uncategorized and tagged creativity, eloquent questions, Mindful Practice, nature, outdoors, spirituality, teacher as transformer, The Child in Me. Bookmark the permalink.

Wild Geese

Posted on May 25, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I want to let my imagination seek out the world I live in and my place in it. Mary Oliver shared the wonderful idea that we are but one in the greater world we live in. Take care and enjoy a wonderful Sabbath.

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

6 Comments

Posted in Community, Mindful Life, Nature in All Its Glory, Poetry, Reflective Moments, Sabbath and tagged community, creativity, Mary Oliver, Mindful Practice, nature, sabbath, spirituality, teacher as transformer, wild geese. Bookmark the permalink.

Thresholds

Posted on May 24, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

When change comes, it is hard to recognize it as opportunity. I know change is a fixture along with death and taxes. I know that, but it does not always make it easier. It takes trust in others who journey with me. Their eyes see what mine do not. Sometimes I want to jump hastily, at the wrong time. I hit a closed door, not yet opened Other times, I linger and the door swings shut. This time, I know it is right. I ready to embark and cross this new threshold. This is a point of entry, one of many. Be mindful as you cross this one and many others.

I feel a weight gone and creativity surging back to the fore.

I stand transfixed,

Not knowing what I see

It is unfamiliar

Troubled–

I see no adventure.

I feel your hand,

A gentle touch on my shoulder

It guides me forward,

My heart opens and listens–

A gentle voice softly speaks:

“Fear not.”

Urged on,

Invited in,

Welcome there,

I cross a new threshold

I am not alone;

You are with me.

9 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged Thresholds. Bookmark the permalink.

Marriage

Posted on May 22, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I don’t do this very often; probably not often enough. This poem is for Kathy. It is our anniversary and, in some ways, we are an unlikely couple. I tell people it is me who has to endure her idiosyncrasies and meandering along life’s path. In truth, she was the perfect soul mate for me with patience galore while she waits for me to grow up.

A couple of weeks ago Renard Moreau Presents presented this wonderful poem and I knew I would use it today. Kahlil Gibran wrote Marriage. It is self-explanatory. There are so many remarkable lines and words that say what I cannot.

Then Almitra spoke again and said, ‘And what of Marriage, master?’

And he answered saying:

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.

You shall be together when white wings of death scatter your days.

Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,

And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another but make not a bond of love:

Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.

Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.

For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together, yet not too near together:

For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.

46 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged Anniversary, creativity, Khalil Gibran, Marriage, Mindful Practice, poetry, spirituality, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

The Road Not Taken

Posted on May 21, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

Several asked asked several times what I would do after the end of the school year. There is no set plan, but we spent a fair amount of time on the weekend beginning a website and some design of a logo for my next adventure. This is an opportunity to continue with several loves: learning, writing, and try make a difference, albeit a small one in the world. There is no certainty of where it takes us. Unlike the bureaucracies I tangled with my entire adult life, this is an opportunity to, as Robert Frost said, “take the road less traveled.” Where I go will not be planned out, but will be an opportunity to make a mark on the trail that others might find and follow.

I get to do this with Kathy. She is much sharper than I am when it comes to the details of a website, planning a logo, and setting the direction the first steps need to take. I get to combine a number of things I love deeply in this new adventure.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

26 Comments

Posted in Education, Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged creativity, education, learning, Mindful Practice, poetry, Robert Frost, teacher as transformer, The Road not Taken, writing. Bookmark the permalink.

I walked a mile with Pleasure

Posted on May 17, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

This is a difficult post. I started it this morning and let the day unfold around Robert Browning Hamilton’s poem. I sensed it would be a day of both pleasure and sorrow.

I resigned from my teaching position. I won’t go back next year. There is nothing calling me back now. My heart has a special place for Stony. It is not a school. It is more, a community where people meet, greet each other, and learn together. That faded and I leave while I still hold the goodness and richness I found there; my narrative untarnished.

I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chatted all the way;
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow,
And ne’er a word said she;
But, oh! The things I learned from her,
When sorrow walked with me.

I learned the most about who I was and about what was important to me through loss. I almost resigned a year ago, but Kathy, with her uncommon common sense, convinced me, for various reasons, to return. I am glad I did. I looked forward to work each day and learned with this small group of students. I completed grieving about the loss of a one of a kind school, “but, oh! The things I learned from her/When sorrow walked with me.” Last year was the wrong time to leave. I would have remembered only the bitter and not tasted the richness of the fruit this journey bore.

John Kabat-Zinn said, “Find a Job with a capital J. Stop doing other people’s work.” I would add one small caveat: complete the journey before you exit. Leave nothing behind and look back only at the good that came of it. Know you served well those you met on the path. Hold your head high.

75 Comments

Posted in Community, Education, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments, Uncategorized and tagged community, creativity, education, I walked a mile with pleasure, Jon Kabat-Zinn, Mindful Practice, poetry, Robert Browning Hamilton, teacher as transformer, uncommon common sense. Bookmark the permalink.

Elegy in the Classroom

Posted on May 16, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

Anne Sexton wrote this wonderfully provocative poem. I am unsure of her context for the poem, but an elegy is a lament or a mourning for something past. As with anything, when we grow past the love and passion for what we do and the compassion for the people we do it with it is time to take our leave. I want to be remembered as ‘gracefully insane’ or eccentric. I love learning with my students and their families the second greatest reward I can receive. The first is learning with my family. I think, in both cases, I could be called somewhat ‘disarranged’.

Teaching is a place of great creative for me and fills a whole in the hole of my soul.

Oh my, Anne Sexton discovered and chose great words for teachers.

In the thin classroom, where your face
was noble and your words were all things,
I find this boily creature in your place;

find you disarranged, squatting on the window sill,
irrefutably placed up there,
like a hunk of some big frog
watching us through the V
of your woolen legs.

Even so, I must admire your skill.
You are so gracefully insane.
We fidget in our plain chairs
and pretend to catalogue
our facts for your burly sorcery

or ignore your fat blind eyes
or the prince you ate yesterday
who was wise, wise, wise.