Author Archives: sara holbrook

This was fun — They broadcast my assembly presentation from McCord Junior High to two other middle schools, using all kinds of technology. In the old days, they would have bussed the other schools in, but instead they saw me on a screen. The pluses were that I could see (or be seen) by more kids. The down side was that not only did I not get to shake any hands there, I didn’t feel as closely connected to the kids in the assembly at McCord. I think we are so accustomed to watching people on a screen, that more kids were watching my projected image than looking at me. And I wound up playing to a camera rather than to the live audience. I know this is the wave of the future, I’m not sure.

One thing I am sure of is that I don’t want to remember McCord for their technology (which was state of the art). I was blown away by the poems the kids were writing, the ones that were posted about the building and the ones the 6th graders wrote in the two days I was there. Many thanks to Judy Bashforth for all her hard work and to the other teachers for preparing the kids so well.

The picture I’m posting is of two math Tanka poems from the hallway display. All of them were great, this just happened to be the photo that turned out the clearest.

Birmingham Elementary is a Micro society school (http://www.microsociety.org/) – the kids, the first graders, asked me about being a poet as a job. Did I set out to make money at it? Was it always just a hobby? The kids were engaged and busy working on building their community.

In the shadow of the largest flour mill in the world (second hand info) which just happens to be in Toledo, in an aging Hungarian neighborhood sits Birmingham. Its old school – really old school, with the electrical wiring running on the outside of many of the walls. But the aging physical building is not to be confused with its revolutionary approach to education. The kids get paid in Birmingham bucks for participating in their business ventures. They hold elections and produce products in cross curricular activities. I’m not much of a fan of judging kids based on test scores, but its hard to not take notice when a school’s scores jump from 25% passing to over 80%. Zowie. Attendance is up, absenteeism and discipline problems way down. There is only one other microsociety school in OH.

So, I went to the website and guess what? The program was established by a poet!

Pretty exciting stuff coming out of Clinger’s old neighborhood. Dinner was chicken paprikash take out from Tony Packo’s. Yumm.

This is the first time my daughter Katie and I ever did a teacher workshop together — at her school, which was much more stressful for her than for me. What is it about presenting to our own colleagues that freaks us out so much. I remember feeling the same way when I had to do such things in the old business life.

But the four hour workshop went well — Katie even survived me showing a slide of her in the bathtub with her sister when they were both little.

I’m a mother.

Mothers do these things.

The teachers wrote questioning poems in small groups arranged in advance by subject area. The science teachers wrote one on reproduction. All I can say is, good thing the kids weren’t there. One thing you have to say about middle school teachers in general — they are (have to be) fearless.

In between the four hour workshop and the drive to Toledo — a long bath. Just a year ago we were up to our necks in construction dust on a new bedroom/bath addition. Glad to have that in past tense.

The wind was in a hurry and at cross purposes with the turnpike on the way to Toledo. Listening to the election returns on the radio… The voter reform initiative calling for a bi-partisian committee to oversee elections in OH went down in flames. Sometimes the winds blow in the face of all logic — I guess the best anyone can do is try and keep it on the road.

Charlottesville is south of D.C. and a full day at school is followed by a long drive back to Cleveland. So many flights have been cancelled that it was impossible to get a flight that would get me back in time for my day at Bay Middle on Tuesday. Michael did the driving through wild and wonderful West Virginia. Hours added onto hours. Too much driving the last few weeks. Next week is NCTE and then most of December at home, and boy howdy, does that sound good.

I had a conversation in the hallway of the school in Charlotteville with an Indian (Eastern)/American teacher about how we both love Tagore. I keep one of his books, Creative Unity, at close hand at all times. It is like the Bible, only less violent — open any page and find an inspiration. It is a crime that his poetry is not taught in the U.S. What a pleasure to stand in a little spot of sun on a fall day and talk poetry. Looking back on all that was Monday, at first I thought of the back killing drive. But now, rubbing the memory of the day between my fingers and forehead, I decide to remember that patch of sunlight instead.

It is a choice — what we decide to remember.

The Ramada Inn is set for rennovation, but unfortunately for me, not before I pull in late Thursday night. The room smells of old smoke, ground into the dingy carpet and painted on the walls. In the bathroom is a whirlpool tub that no longer whirls and a steam apparatus that must have seemed like a good idea at the time. I’d like to walk out, but it’s too late.

On the way down, I got a phone call that began “everyone is okay, but . . .” Not what anyone wants to hear. Michael’s son Max had been in a car accident. The fact that I wrote in my blog about a car accident just this morning is downright spooky. From this date forward, I think the entire family should just stay home on November 4. I am grateful to make the Ramada Inn, dreary as it is. Lots to be grateful for.

Greener Elementary is far from dreary – a fun school that has prepared for the author visit and is (literally) hopping with excitement about writing. The principal explains her attire and that of her teachers – if they pay money, they are allowed to wear jeans on Friday. This is how they raise money for the assemblies since the parent group isn’t very well-funded. Why don’t stories like this appear on Fox news as they complain about teachers? These teachers are so intent on their kids getting a diverse experience in school, they pay for assemblies themselves.

Extended day – I drove from Cincinnati to Purcellville, VA to see Kelly & Co. on Friday after school. This is a long drive – complicated by the fact that somewhere in West Virginia I managed to get off of the Robert Byrd Appalachian Highway and on the scenic bypass – which went on and on with 15 mile per hour hair pin turns through the mountains, herds of deer ambling beside the twisting road and no cell phone service. Nada. It is undoubtedly a beautiful drive in the daylight, but it loses its charm after dark and I frankly scared myself a few times wondering what would happen if I slipped down a side bank or ran out of gas.

Got into Purcellvile about 1:30AM, very grateful. Had a great time with Benny, who is enjoying reading (mostly memorizing) Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus and Where is the Green Sheep? Danny knows all his letters, but still speaks a foreign language and Thomas can almost sit up. Michael arrived on Saturday afternoon, by plane. No detours. Smart move.

This is Amish country in Indiana. At least half of the kids in this district don’t watch American Idol and wear simple clothes. Whenever I have contact with the Amish community I wonder if the rest of us aren’t missing something a little less hectic. The drive was golden with buggies on the periphery. The children were bussed in for the programs, which went smoothly thanks to a coordinated effort by all the title one and other teachers. It was a great day. Right across the street from the school they were harvesting. I just stood there and watched for a while, city girl that I am.