Friday, July 18, 2014
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Wrote of Black Youth
for the Young
A Conversation with Walter Dean Myers on NCTE Blog ReadWriteThink
If there is anyone in the world of children’s and young adult literature who could be described as a living legend, it’s Walter Dean Myers. Tune in to hear how his own experiences as a reader have shaped his approach to storytelling, what he seeks to offer young people through his writing, and the thinking behind a select handful of his novels – books that incorporate concepts as varied as magical realism, the social contract, and oral histories with our nation’s war veterans.http://www.readwritethink.org/parent-afterschool-resources
Read the full New York Times article
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Friday, April 18, 2014
I heard this song in "Oh Brother Where Art Thou?" with George Clooney and it's hard not to draw parallels to today's financial woes. I've been in awe of the author who came up with "where they hung the jerk who invented work," ever since.
Roger Whittaker - Big Rock Candy Mountain lyrics One evening as the sun went down And the jungle fires were burning, Down the track came a hobo hiking, And he said, "Boys, I'm not turning I'm headed for a land that's far away Besides the crystal fountains So come with me, we'll go and see The Big Rock Candy Mountains In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, There's a land that's fair and bright, Where the handouts grow on bushes And you sleep out every night. Where the boxcars all are empty And the sun shines every day And the birds and the bees And the cigarette trees The lemonade springs Where the bluebird sings In the Big Rock Candy Mountains. In the Big Rock Candy Mountains All the cops have wooden legs And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs The farmers' trees are full of fruit And the barns are full of hay Oh I'm bound to go Where there ain't no snow Where the rain don't fall The winds don't blow In the Big Rock Candy Mountains. In the Big Rock Candy Mountains You never change your socks And the little streams of alcohol Come trickling down the rocks The brakemen have to tip their hats And the railway bulls are blind There's a lake of stew And of whiskey too You can paddle all around it In a big canoe In the Big Rock Candy Mountains In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, The jails are made of tin. And you can walk right out again, As soon as you are in. There ain't no short-handled shovels, No axes, saws nor picks, I'm bound to stay Where you sleep all day, Where they hung the jerk That invented work
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
I'll see you all this comin' Fall
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Only a Teacher
I am a teacher!
What I do and say are being absorbed by young minds
who echo those images across the ages.
My lessons will be immortal,
affecting people yet unborn,
people I will never see or know.
The future of the world is in my classroom today-
a future with the potential for good or bad.
The pliable minds of tomorrow’s leaders will be molded
either artistically or grotesquely by what I do.
Several future presidents are learning from me today-
so are the great writers of the next decades
and so are the so-called ordinary people
who make the decisions in a democracy.
I must never forget these same people
could be the thieves and murderers of the future.
Only a teacher.
Thank God I have a calling to the greatest
profession of all.
I must be vigilant every day
lest I lose one fragile opportunity
to improve tomorrow.
~Dr. Ivan Fitzwater