Tag Archives: teacher as transformer

Now I Become Myself

Posted on June 15, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

We had a very good day. We are beginning to say good-bye. It has taken many years for me to reach this place. As May Sarton suggested, I ran madly many times seeming to think that busyness was the order of the day. Or I wore the faces of other people. I think these faces were often mine, but that they masked the real me. It was hard to let the guard down and be my self at times. It is easier and easier and I can stand still right here in this moment and now in this moment. Ah, what a feeling.

Now I become myself. It’s taken

Time, many years and places;

I have been dissolved and shaken,

Worn other people’s faces,

Run madly, as if Time were there,

Terribly old, crying a warning,

“Hurry, you will be dead before—”

(What? Before you reach the morning?

Or the end of the poem is clear?

Or love safe in the walled city?)

Now to stand still, to be here,

Feel my own weight and density!

The black shadow on the paper

Is my hand; the shadow of a word

As thought shapes the shaper

Falls heavy on the page, is heard.

All fuses now, falls into place

From wish to action, word to silence,

My work, my love, my time, my face

Gathered into one intense

Gesture of growing like a plant.

As slowly as the ripening fruit

Fertile, detached, and always spent,

Falls but does not exhaust the root,

So all the poem is, can give,

Grows in me to become the song,

Made so and rooted by love.

Now there is time and Time is young.

O, in this single hour I live

All of myself and do not move.

I, the pursued, who madly ran,

Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun!

27 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged creativity, May Sarton, Mindful Practice, Now I Become Myself, spirituality, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

A Healing Place

Posted on June 13, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I have not walked much lately due to time constraints. Nature is a place that allows me to learn about myself and create. Kathy and I spent a lot of time there last spring, summer, and fall. I struggle to write when I am not spending time walking. Today, we had a tornado watch and warning. As I drove home, the sky was dark to the north and east. Lightening flashed across the sky. I was reminded of the power nature holds and, at the same time, its healing touch as a creative source. I am not separate from it. I am a small piece.

This place–

It is a space,

I walk with purpose;

Yet, without purpose

There is no destination here.

The ground uplifts,

The sky shelters,

Breezes cool,

Leaves whisper secrets,

The Sun reveals.

Just be…

Be one;

Not above

Not below

I am integral.

A refuge

Nature`s wisdom shared

I am comforted

I heal

Just be.

5 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged A Healing Place, creative source, creativity, healing touch, Mindful Practice, nature, poetry, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

The Poet’s Obligation

Posted on June 10, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

Pablo Neruda wrote this lovely poem which reminds me of the words I speak or write. They carry messages to others who cannot find their way out to the world. It is the poet’s obligation to observe and record with each sense the world he or she lives in. I think in the busy world we live in it is increasingly important we are each a poet and carry messages to the shrouded heart.

To whoever is not listening to the sea
this Friday morning, to who ever is cooped up
in house or office, factory or woman
or street or mine or dry prison cell,
to him I come, and without speaking or looking
I arrive and open the door of his prison,
and a vibration starts up, vague and insistent,
a long rumble of thunder adds itself
to the weigh of the planet and the foam,
the groaning rivers of the ocean rise,
the star vibrates quickly in its corona
and the sea beats, dies, and goes on beating.

So. Drawn on by my destiny,
I ceaselessly must listen to and keep
the sea’s lamenting in my consciousness,
I must feel the crash of the hard water
and gather it up in a perpetual cup
so that, wherever those in prison may be,
wherever they suffer the sentence of the autumn,
I may be present with an errant wave,
I may move in and out of the windows,
and hearing me, eyes may lift themselves,
asking “How can I reach the sea?”
And I will pass to them, saying nothing,
the starry echoes of the wave,
a breaking up of foam and quicksand,
a rustling of salt withdrawing itself,
the gray cry of sea birds on the coast.

So, though me, freedom and the sea
will call in answer to the shrouded heart.

14 Comments

Posted in Community, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged community, creativity, Mindful Practice, nature, Pablo Neruda, teacher as transformer, The Poet's Obligation, the sea. Bookmark the permalink.

In the Quiet Curve of the Evening

Posted on June 9, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

Life is uncertain. One thing I am certain of is unconditional love of a Creator and those close to me. I cannot explain or describe what they mean, but I have faith they exist.

Last weekend, Kathy and I participated in a special event for her niece. She was commissioned as a minister of the United Church of Canada. We sang this hymn during the celebrations. I am not sure how to credit the song. Julie Howard wrote the lyrics, but I did not find links for her. As I head into the Sabbath, the words say it all for me.

In the quiet curve of evening,
in the sinking of the days,
in the silky void of darkness, you are there.
In the lapses of my breathing,
in the space between my ways,
in the crater carved by sadness, you are there.
You are there, you are there, you are there.

In the rests between the phrases,
in the cracks between the stars,
in the gaps between the meaning, you are there.
In the melting down of endings,
in the cooling of the sun,
in the solstice of the winter, you are there.
You are there, you are there, you are there.

In the mystery of my hungers,
in the silence of my rooms,
in the cloud of my unknowing, you are there.
In the empty cave of grieving,
in the desert of my dreams,
in the tunnel of my sorrow, you are there.
You are there, you are there, you are there.

17 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments, Sabbath and tagged creativity, hymn, In the Quiet Curve of the Evening, Julie Howard, Mindful Practice, poetry, religion, spirituality, teacher as transformer, United Church of Canada. Bookmark the permalink.

There`s what you do

Posted on June 8, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

We live a personal story based on personal perspective. I find it hard some days to not live too deeply in my story and forget the good things that happen. The kindness and generosity of people helped overcome many challenging times. I felt the breath of compassion. I thank students and their families for lifting me up during difficult times.

Al Zolynas wrote this Zen-like poem and reminds me my narrative is only my narrative. Others see their truth differently and sometimes quite differently. And then there is poetry the act of doing, feeling, and sharing all wrapped up in one.

and then there’s what you feel
while you do it
and then there are the words
that come later
to describe, recreate, narrate it–
all at a third remove
from the doing. And
then there’s poetry,
a doing in words, the act of writing
and a pointing back to
the ultimate and absolute
the relativity of words
their limited and limiting circumscriptions,
their stalactites of feeling,
their penumbras of meaning,
the deep cave of their origin.

11 Comments

Posted in Community, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged Al Zolynas, community, compassion, creativity, Mindful Practice, poetry, spirituality, teacher as transformer, There`s what you do, zen. Bookmark the permalink.

Long Live the Weeds

Posted on June 5, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

Theodore Roethke wrote this poem that echoes the writing of Shunryu Suzuki, Thich Nhat Hanh, and Thomas Merton. Frequently, I forget the need for weeds. They add to the richness of the garden I call my life. Roethke said it so eloquently: “These shape the creature that is I”. The good and the not-so-good of life help shape me.

Today, I talked with students about a need for resiliency, so when we run into those bumps along the road of life or find weeds in life’s garden, we realize they are there to make us a fuller and richer person. Often, when I look back, I see the beauty of something that I felt was harmful when it happened. Perhaps, I was just not ready for what I thought I wanted, needed to be patient, and wait my turn. Or I was not ready to fully understand what needed to learn and needed to mature.

Long live the weeds that overwhelm

My narrow vegetable realm!–

The bitter rock, the barren soil

That force the son of man to toil;

All things unholy, marked by curse,

The ugly of the universe.

The rough, the wicked, the wild

That keep the spirit undefiled.

With these I match my wit

And earn the right to stand or sit,

Hope, look, create, or drink and die:

These shape the creature that is I.

13 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments, Uncategorized and tagged creativity, Long Live the Weeds, Mindful Practice, poetry, spirituality, teacher as transformer, Theodore Roethke. Bookmark the permalink.

I Am Much Too Alone in the World, and not Alone Enough

Posted on June 3, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

Today, I talked with students whose main concern about school is they do not like it. One thing I gleaned was a reluctance to accept personal responsibility which should be something students learn in school. There are reasons for this lack of responsibility. One that is overlooked is responsibility is taken away from children.

What made this an interesting conversation was some of these students are ‘special needs’. In many ways they are bright, articulate problem-solvers frustrated by a system that has failed them leaving them to feel as if they were failing. They see school as a place they have to go and not a place of learning.

What was disconcerting is I am told just get them these students through the system. These children are someone else’s problem next year. We shuffle these students from school to school in this fashion, in effect sorted out of the failed system. Educators, politicians, and bureaucrats fail them daily.

Rainer Maria Rilke wrote this poem and it reminded me of one thing humans want in life: free will and to be part of conversations about them in honest ways. School is not a game played with unrevealed rules, but a place of learning. What if adults took time, listened to children, and helped them find the path where we each learn new words each day?

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone
enough
to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small
enough
to be to you just object and thing,
dark and smart.
I want my free will and want it accompanying
the path which leads to action;
and want during times that beg questions,
where something is up,
to be among those in the know,
or else be alone.

I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,
never be blind or too old
to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;
for there I would be dishonest, untrue.
I want my conscience to be
true before you;
want to describe myself like a picture I observed
for a long time, one close up,
like a new word I learned and embraced,
like the everyday jug,
like my mother’s face,
like a ship that carried me along
through the deadliest storm.

20 Comments

Posted in Community, Education, Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry and tagged creativity, education, Educational Leadership, eloquent questions, I Am Much Too Alone in the World and not Alone Enough, leadership, Mindful Practice, poetry, Rainer Maria Rilke, stewardship, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

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.