There is no planning for the unexpected - that is what makes it so.
I'm sure there is a "real" and much better quote somewhere, but that is what happened today.
We were going to give students laptops to work on their bibliographies and finish gathering Internet sources. However, no one gave Amy the combination to the lock on the laptop cabinet. Once that was received, it was already lunch. Later, we found that a password is required to print. Oh, my.
Amy filled the classes with CPR - Circle of Power and Respect - and listening/reading a book, "A long way to Chicago" which is a very good book (I plan to read it tonight).
I still have 3 lesson plans to get together, along with reading the book "Heat" and create a lesson plan for that. I must learn how the computer in the back of the room works - apparently students use the computer to take AE/AR tests (?what are these?). So much to learn still - I hope Amy has the time without taking into what she needs to do!
Tomorrow is Friday. The squirrels will want more nuts!
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Day 7
Yes, Day 7 was 1/20/10 - I'm a little late.
Today the school said the Pledge of Allegiance. Apparently, this is only done on Wednesdays. I wonder why? I'm not brave enough to ask yet. The 1 minute pledge seemed to throw the kids into a 10 minute talk-fest. I'm not sure what it is that keeps them constantly talking. Is there some management trick I need to learn?
We spent each class working on transferring bibliographic information from their white sheets to different colored index cards. I get the reasoning - when students do their bibs, they will refer to the cards only, and not the white sheet to format to typing. However, the students were missing it completely. Just as they didn't write down all the pertinent information from books or websites, they didn't transfer the information correctly either. What is the disconnect?
I attended a 6th Grade Staff Meeting. It was all 6th grade teacher and the Allied Arts instructors. There were no introductions so us Student Teachers felt a bit awkward. This soon passed as Principal Hildendbrand started into his speech. He requested that teachers send out postcards to parents of students who are doing well, need some encouragement, or who have not received a card so far this year. I remember reading about this in one of my class books. I think it is a good idea; it just takes time.
I found out that 51% of all BMS students receive free or reduced breakfast! To me, that is an awful lot. In college, we are told that inner city schools are the most needy and we should consider teaching there, not here in the "suburbs". Seems someone is missing the point that we live in a rural area where there are quite a few needy families.
On January 25th, I'll have my first In-Service. I haven't decided how I feel about this.
On to tomorrow!
Today the school said the Pledge of Allegiance. Apparently, this is only done on Wednesdays. I wonder why? I'm not brave enough to ask yet. The 1 minute pledge seemed to throw the kids into a 10 minute talk-fest. I'm not sure what it is that keeps them constantly talking. Is there some management trick I need to learn?
We spent each class working on transferring bibliographic information from their white sheets to different colored index cards. I get the reasoning - when students do their bibs, they will refer to the cards only, and not the white sheet to format to typing. However, the students were missing it completely. Just as they didn't write down all the pertinent information from books or websites, they didn't transfer the information correctly either. What is the disconnect?
I attended a 6th Grade Staff Meeting. It was all 6th grade teacher and the Allied Arts instructors. There were no introductions so us Student Teachers felt a bit awkward. This soon passed as Principal Hildendbrand started into his speech. He requested that teachers send out postcards to parents of students who are doing well, need some encouragement, or who have not received a card so far this year. I remember reading about this in one of my class books. I think it is a good idea; it just takes time.
I found out that 51% of all BMS students receive free or reduced breakfast! To me, that is an awful lot. In college, we are told that inner city schools are the most needy and we should consider teaching there, not here in the "suburbs". Seems someone is missing the point that we live in a rural area where there are quite a few needy families.
On January 25th, I'll have my first In-Service. I haven't decided how I feel about this.
On to tomorrow!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Day 6 - Beginning of Week 2
Who said, "Prepare for the worst, expect the best" or something like that? Well, today was an interesting day.
Amy was home with a sick child. A sub was assigned to her class. Now, I know I'm "just" the student teacher and I've "only" been there for a week. I also know that I'm working FOR FREE and don't have a license. However, you'd think that maybe the sub would consider my input on the class just a bit? Nope. I was just the (un)paid help.
The sub ran the show. OK, he was getting paid and had a certificate and had subbed more than once. So, I deferred. That is what I'm suppose to do, right?
I did get to disclose the new seating charts and move the kids to their new seats. There was whining and complaining, which was not unexpected. I'll have to make some changes, as I was unaware of who was who's best friend or buddy, etc. There are apparently other issues of who doesn't like whom, etc. Amy and I will deal with that tomorrow.
Last week, I felt like a "part" of the class. Today, I felt like a second class citizen. I didn't much like that.
Amy was home with a sick child. A sub was assigned to her class. Now, I know I'm "just" the student teacher and I've "only" been there for a week. I also know that I'm working FOR FREE and don't have a license. However, you'd think that maybe the sub would consider my input on the class just a bit? Nope. I was just the (un)paid help.
The sub ran the show. OK, he was getting paid and had a certificate and had subbed more than once. So, I deferred. That is what I'm suppose to do, right?
I did get to disclose the new seating charts and move the kids to their new seats. There was whining and complaining, which was not unexpected. I'll have to make some changes, as I was unaware of who was who's best friend or buddy, etc. There are apparently other issues of who doesn't like whom, etc. Amy and I will deal with that tomorrow.
Last week, I felt like a "part" of the class. Today, I felt like a second class citizen. I didn't much like that.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Day 5, End of Week One
Today I finished seating charts - which Amy will have to approve before we put them in place. I am surprised that after less than 1 week, I have an idea of who needs to sit closer to the front, who could use more intellectual attention, and who are the over-achievers.
I forgot my BSU ID and must make an appropriate thank you for Ms. Whiting. She made me a paper tag - professional and everything.
I asked those students who had not participated yesterday to share their name tents today. In 4th hour, I had 4 students who did not want to share. This will be problematic when sharing will be part of their grade. Hmmmmm
Students meant more time in the computer lab working on their research papers. I am so looking forward to the laptops in the classroom next week - less running about for me.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
This week started with me afraid of getting out of bed - I end this week so thrilled and bucking at the gate to get the next one started.
I forgot my BSU ID and must make an appropriate thank you for Ms. Whiting. She made me a paper tag - professional and everything.
I asked those students who had not participated yesterday to share their name tents today. In 4th hour, I had 4 students who did not want to share. This will be problematic when sharing will be part of their grade. Hmmmmm
Students meant more time in the computer lab working on their research papers. I am so looking forward to the laptops in the classroom next week - less running about for me.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
This week started with me afraid of getting out of bed - I end this week so thrilled and bucking at the gate to get the next one started.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Day 4 - Student Teaching
Today was a brief day. In that I mean that not much happened, nothing interesting to report, and very normal.
Class announcements, Word of the Day, asking students to share name tents, and computer lab.
Perhaps, then, I should mention that I have "hall duty" from 8:10 to 8:25 every morning. Right now, that isn't so bad. But, when I start teaching alone, my students will be in my classroom before I will. That doesn't seem to make sense to me. I'll have to figure out something.
Well, my hall duty is covering the cafeteria. I'm only suppose to cover 1/2, but I walk all over. It is easy exercise, gets me brownie points, and lets the kids know there are adults who will hold them accountable. Today, more than the last 3 days, there seem to be more kids. Not only that, but they seemed to be more rowdy - or, better stated, like squirrels on caffeine. Exhausting.
Class announcements, Word of the Day, asking students to share name tents, and computer lab.
Perhaps, then, I should mention that I have "hall duty" from 8:10 to 8:25 every morning. Right now, that isn't so bad. But, when I start teaching alone, my students will be in my classroom before I will. That doesn't seem to make sense to me. I'll have to figure out something.
Well, my hall duty is covering the cafeteria. I'm only suppose to cover 1/2, but I walk all over. It is easy exercise, gets me brownie points, and lets the kids know there are adults who will hold them accountable. Today, more than the last 3 days, there seem to be more kids. Not only that, but they seemed to be more rowdy - or, better stated, like squirrels on caffeine. Exhausting.
Oops - Student Teaching - Day 3
I was so exhausted after Day 3, I fell asleep by 8! So, I'm playing catch-up.
We made name tents today! The kids had a great time with the markers, crayons, stickers and sharing. I had a great time helping and watching them, too. I gave prizes for the least decorated - which really bothered them :) I finally saw what Amy had been talking about for 2 days - the self-centeredness of these children was jaw-dropping. "That's MY sticker!" "You can't have a fish, cuz I am!"
My plan is to use my first week of teaching alone for some character/empathy building. I'll get some poetry in there, too.
We made name tents today! The kids had a great time with the markers, crayons, stickers and sharing. I had a great time helping and watching them, too. I gave prizes for the least decorated - which really bothered them :) I finally saw what Amy had been talking about for 2 days - the self-centeredness of these children was jaw-dropping. "That's MY sticker!" "You can't have a fish, cuz I am!"
My plan is to use my first week of teaching alone for some character/empathy building. I'll get some poetry in there, too.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Student Teaching: Day 2
Today was rather uneventful. The D.A.R.E. officer visited the 4 classes to talk about cigarette and tobacco use. I sat through his 3rd presentation and didn't learn anything new. I did find it amusing that the students thought the 1980's video he showed was "so old" :)
During the balance of the day I tallied scores from the Spelltacular Spelling "tests" of Monday, wrote scores into Ms. Skala's grade chart, and gathered more information for my Poetry Unit. I'll get to teach that sometime in February, after the students finish their Science research papers.
I also attended the Literacy Meeting, which invited all the LA teachers and, for some reason, 2 Social Studies teachers. I sat and listened and was not surprised to hear the teachers dismay at the Principal's request for a breakdown or timeline of how and when each LA standard is taught. It reminded me of the time I worked for a company that expected me to keep track of what I was typing, while working on 3 projects and having to consult with (I think) 10 different people!
There was also some concern that, no matter what the standards or requirements or mandates, if a child doesn't want to learn, they just won't learn - which administration seems to not understand.
Well, Wednesday will be different - I get to teach a lesson for 20 minutes. The lesson is broken into 3 segments - 20, 15, and 15 minutes each - to cover Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. I'm no longer nervous!
During the balance of the day I tallied scores from the Spelltacular Spelling "tests" of Monday, wrote scores into Ms. Skala's grade chart, and gathered more information for my Poetry Unit. I'll get to teach that sometime in February, after the students finish their Science research papers.
I also attended the Literacy Meeting, which invited all the LA teachers and, for some reason, 2 Social Studies teachers. I sat and listened and was not surprised to hear the teachers dismay at the Principal's request for a breakdown or timeline of how and when each LA standard is taught. It reminded me of the time I worked for a company that expected me to keep track of what I was typing, while working on 3 projects and having to consult with (I think) 10 different people!
There was also some concern that, no matter what the standards or requirements or mandates, if a child doesn't want to learn, they just won't learn - which administration seems to not understand.
Well, Wednesday will be different - I get to teach a lesson for 20 minutes. The lesson is broken into 3 segments - 20, 15, and 15 minutes each - to cover Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. I'm no longer nervous!
Monday, January 11, 2010
Student Teaching: Day 1
I have to keep a Journal/Log for my Student Teaching Assignment. I thought, what's a better place than a blog? So, each day, I will write a post. Here is today's:
I had to develop an impromptu lesson (which I can't submit as part of my assignment) on how to introduce myself to the students and put them at ease. I decided to ask about pets. Seems animals and children (usually) work well together. First, I told a brief story about one of my 8 animals. Then, without prompting, the students wanted to share unusual or cute stories about their pets. It went very well - and we all had fun. This helped me begin to learn students' names by associating them with their pets. Second, I asked them what they thought my favorite color, food, movie, sport, etc. might be. There were a lot of interesting - and colorful - answers. This also gave me clues on learning the students' names, and also how they think. To finish off the "Introduction Time" I asked them what they thought what my profession was before teaching. The funniest/most unusual response was cosmetologist - apparently the girls liked my hair! After several guesses, I finally told them I was a Technical Writer for nearly 15 years. I explained the possible job functions of a T.W. which got them to thinking more about who I am, and was a lead in for Ms. Skala to ask them to write in their journals what profession they want to aspire to.
That was just one highlight of my day. I had fun; I learned some new things about children, and about myself.
Now, how do I get through tomorrow!
I had to develop an impromptu lesson (which I can't submit as part of my assignment) on how to introduce myself to the students and put them at ease. I decided to ask about pets. Seems animals and children (usually) work well together. First, I told a brief story about one of my 8 animals. Then, without prompting, the students wanted to share unusual or cute stories about their pets. It went very well - and we all had fun. This helped me begin to learn students' names by associating them with their pets. Second, I asked them what they thought my favorite color, food, movie, sport, etc. might be. There were a lot of interesting - and colorful - answers. This also gave me clues on learning the students' names, and also how they think. To finish off the "Introduction Time" I asked them what they thought what my profession was before teaching. The funniest/most unusual response was cosmetologist - apparently the girls liked my hair! After several guesses, I finally told them I was a Technical Writer for nearly 15 years. I explained the possible job functions of a T.W. which got them to thinking more about who I am, and was a lead in for Ms. Skala to ask them to write in their journals what profession they want to aspire to.
That was just one highlight of my day. I had fun; I learned some new things about children, and about myself.
Now, how do I get through tomorrow!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Needs work, but it's a start
And, if anyone has an idea for the "middle", I'm all ears!
The City of Trebhor
Once upon a time there was a young squire named Roderick Peredur. Squire Roderick, or simply Roderick to his friends, was a courageous and humble young man. His family, the Peredur’s, were of modest means, but they were sure to give Roderick every opportunity to grow into an intelligent and well-schooled young squire.
As part of Roderick’s education, he was sent out into the world to travel and experience other cultures. Roderick was provided all the basics for his excursion: a horse named Cabalina, canteen of water, blanket, basket of food, weapons, parchment, and writing quill. Roderick’s mission was to meet others, live with them for at least one moon cycle, learn their ways, and write of his experience. To his question, “What if I run out of supplies?” the answer was, “You must work with others – and with nature – to replenish your supplies.”
One late spring morning, Roderick set out to the west. He travelled in the early morning, and found shade in the mid-day, so as not to dehydrate himself or his horse, returning to his campaign in the late afternoon. Finding shelter at night was not difficult; knowing whether or not another creature inhabited the spot was so. One night he had to make peace with a black bear, who kindly let Roderick escape after his offer of an armful of apples. Another night, wolves circled he and Cabalina until Roderick threw them the dead rabbits from his satchel. Roderick began to hope for a civilization soon.
On the fifth day out, supplies running low, and Cabalina in need of more than grass, Roderick came upon a field with children playing with hoops and sticks. Roderick stopped and the children surrounded him and Cabalina. Their eyes were filled with wonder and the mouths smiled with awe.
“What a beautiful creature she is,” whispered one girl, so as to not upset the horse.
“We do not have any such creatures as beautiful in our kingdom. Please, sir, who are you and from whence do you come?”
Roderick smiled. “My name is Squire Roderick Peredur of Sylvian. I am on an educational quest – to meet and learn of new cultures. From what town do you come from? And how far a distance? My Cabalina and I need proper food and rest. I would be most grateful for your help.”
An older boy, not much younger than Roderick, anxiously approaches the squire. “Please, sir, my name is Carsten, of the blacksmith Logan. My friends and I are from the city of Trebhor, just down this hill and over the next. We will take you there, if you will allow us.”
“Thank you, Carsten. I would be much appreciative if you and your friends would accompany me to Trebhor.” Roderick lifted Carsten and one of the girls, Bedlia, onto Cabalina. The other children ran playfully with Cabalina’s riders down the hill and over the next.
Once upon a time in the town of Trebhor there lived a blacksmith named Logan. Logan’s son, Carsten, and three daughters, Chloe, Constance, and Christabelle, lived in one of the larger houses near the town center. The children’s mother, Cosmina – whom all the children resembled, with their flaxen hair and bright green eyes – died when giving birth to Chloe. Over the last ten years, the family lived a rather normal and ordinary life; Logan was teaching Carsten the blacksmithing trade, as Constance and Christabelle kept house and raised Chloe. While Constance was content with her place, Christabelle was anxious and knew there was more to the world than dishes, diapers, and dairy cows.
During one of Christabelle’s walks through the market she noticed a new cart on the street. It was very different from all the others: the wood was painted beautiful shades of peacock violet and lemon yellow, a myriad of bells and chimes hung from the bright orange canvas shade, as did pieces of glass flashing with rainbow light. The older woman leaning on the cart was someone Christabelle did not recognize but somehow seemed familiar. With apprehension, Christabelle moved toward the cart and the woman.
“Hello Madam,” said Christabelle. “I do not recall seeing your cart here before. Are you new to our town of Trebhor?”
The woman’s smile was warm and friendly. “No, my dear, I am here only for a few days. I am on my way to Mornastead to meet with my,
“Sisters.” The woman’s hesitation intrigued Christabelle as did the name of the town – Mornastead, she said to herself; Mornastead. Her emerald eyes flashed with revelation.
“Madam?” Christabelle’s voice was hurried and excited. “May I go with you, on your travel to Mornastead? I will be of no bother, I promise you. I know how to hunt small game and cook it; as well as forage for edible nuts and berries. I have gold coins to offer you, if necessary.”
The older woman’s smile grew. “My child, there is no need to bribe me to take you on my journey. It will be my honor to have a bright and vital soul travel with me.” With her hand out in greeting, “My name is Merilyn Zephyrine Septimus. Oh, don’t look so bewildered, Christabelle, I would not expect you to say that mouthful each time you address me! No, please, just call me Merilyn.”
Christabelle felt warmth and calmness move through her body. She felt mysteriously safe and almost enchanted by Madam Septimus; or as she reminded herself, Merilyn. But, curiously, she did not remember telling the woman her name. “Madame, oh, Merilyn, I do not recall giving you my name. How did you know it was Christabelle?”
“I heard someone talking to you at another cart. The man said your name and asked how your siblings – Carsten, Chloe, and Constance – were doing. He also asked about the health of your father. He is not ill, is he?” Merilyn was quick with her response and the words flowed like an easy stream from her lips. She did not miss a beat.
Christabelle assured her new friend that her father was just fine, but was worried he would not understand her wanting to leave Trebhor. She asked Merilyn to go with her and speak to her father. Merilyn agreed. Christabelle helped her pack up her cart, tie it to her horses, Meadow and Storm, and they walked toward Blacksmith Logan’s home. Along the way, Christabelle told her brief life story and how she thought it odd her father would not talk about his ancestors, the Heled’s. Merilyn assured her that, when it was time to know more, all would be revealed.
Logan met Christabelle and Merilyn a few feet from the family’s house.
“Oh Father! I have the most wonderful news!” Christabelle leaped into her father’s arms. “I am going to Mornastead with Madame Septimus! I can finally see the world, meet new people, experience more of life!” Her fervent joy nearly overwhelmed Logan. Logan was suspicious, but managed a slight smile at Merilyn as he hugged his daughter.
“Now, hold on, sweetheart. You have only just met this woman; and why the hurry to leave your home? You are still not married, nor even promised to anyone. How can I trust that you will be safe?” Logan’s voice was fearful but gentle. He always knew the day would come when his restless daughter would leave Trebhor; he had just hoped it would not be so soon.
Constance and Chloe stood at the house door beckoning for their father and sister to bring the new friend in for supper. Christabelle ran to her sisters, lifted and hugged them both. She said something just above a whisper, and the three girls let out shouts of glee. Logan looked at Merilyn, who herself was smiling so broadly the wrinkles on her nose and forehead looked lovely to Logan. He shook his head as if to clear cobwebs, and with a smile, he waved his arm inviting Merilyn to go ahead. “After you, Madam Septimus.”
The City of Trebhor
Once upon a time there was a young squire named Roderick Peredur. Squire Roderick, or simply Roderick to his friends, was a courageous and humble young man. His family, the Peredur’s, were of modest means, but they were sure to give Roderick every opportunity to grow into an intelligent and well-schooled young squire.
As part of Roderick’s education, he was sent out into the world to travel and experience other cultures. Roderick was provided all the basics for his excursion: a horse named Cabalina, canteen of water, blanket, basket of food, weapons, parchment, and writing quill. Roderick’s mission was to meet others, live with them for at least one moon cycle, learn their ways, and write of his experience. To his question, “What if I run out of supplies?” the answer was, “You must work with others – and with nature – to replenish your supplies.”
One late spring morning, Roderick set out to the west. He travelled in the early morning, and found shade in the mid-day, so as not to dehydrate himself or his horse, returning to his campaign in the late afternoon. Finding shelter at night was not difficult; knowing whether or not another creature inhabited the spot was so. One night he had to make peace with a black bear, who kindly let Roderick escape after his offer of an armful of apples. Another night, wolves circled he and Cabalina until Roderick threw them the dead rabbits from his satchel. Roderick began to hope for a civilization soon.
On the fifth day out, supplies running low, and Cabalina in need of more than grass, Roderick came upon a field with children playing with hoops and sticks. Roderick stopped and the children surrounded him and Cabalina. Their eyes were filled with wonder and the mouths smiled with awe.
“What a beautiful creature she is,” whispered one girl, so as to not upset the horse.
“We do not have any such creatures as beautiful in our kingdom. Please, sir, who are you and from whence do you come?”
Roderick smiled. “My name is Squire Roderick Peredur of Sylvian. I am on an educational quest – to meet and learn of new cultures. From what town do you come from? And how far a distance? My Cabalina and I need proper food and rest. I would be most grateful for your help.”
An older boy, not much younger than Roderick, anxiously approaches the squire. “Please, sir, my name is Carsten, of the blacksmith Logan. My friends and I are from the city of Trebhor, just down this hill and over the next. We will take you there, if you will allow us.”
“Thank you, Carsten. I would be much appreciative if you and your friends would accompany me to Trebhor.” Roderick lifted Carsten and one of the girls, Bedlia, onto Cabalina. The other children ran playfully with Cabalina’s riders down the hill and over the next.
Once upon a time in the town of Trebhor there lived a blacksmith named Logan. Logan’s son, Carsten, and three daughters, Chloe, Constance, and Christabelle, lived in one of the larger houses near the town center. The children’s mother, Cosmina – whom all the children resembled, with their flaxen hair and bright green eyes – died when giving birth to Chloe. Over the last ten years, the family lived a rather normal and ordinary life; Logan was teaching Carsten the blacksmithing trade, as Constance and Christabelle kept house and raised Chloe. While Constance was content with her place, Christabelle was anxious and knew there was more to the world than dishes, diapers, and dairy cows.
During one of Christabelle’s walks through the market she noticed a new cart on the street. It was very different from all the others: the wood was painted beautiful shades of peacock violet and lemon yellow, a myriad of bells and chimes hung from the bright orange canvas shade, as did pieces of glass flashing with rainbow light. The older woman leaning on the cart was someone Christabelle did not recognize but somehow seemed familiar. With apprehension, Christabelle moved toward the cart and the woman.
“Hello Madam,” said Christabelle. “I do not recall seeing your cart here before. Are you new to our town of Trebhor?”
The woman’s smile was warm and friendly. “No, my dear, I am here only for a few days. I am on my way to Mornastead to meet with my,
“Sisters.” The woman’s hesitation intrigued Christabelle as did the name of the town – Mornastead, she said to herself; Mornastead. Her emerald eyes flashed with revelation.
“Madam?” Christabelle’s voice was hurried and excited. “May I go with you, on your travel to Mornastead? I will be of no bother, I promise you. I know how to hunt small game and cook it; as well as forage for edible nuts and berries. I have gold coins to offer you, if necessary.”
The older woman’s smile grew. “My child, there is no need to bribe me to take you on my journey. It will be my honor to have a bright and vital soul travel with me.” With her hand out in greeting, “My name is Merilyn Zephyrine Septimus. Oh, don’t look so bewildered, Christabelle, I would not expect you to say that mouthful each time you address me! No, please, just call me Merilyn.”
Christabelle felt warmth and calmness move through her body. She felt mysteriously safe and almost enchanted by Madam Septimus; or as she reminded herself, Merilyn. But, curiously, she did not remember telling the woman her name. “Madame, oh, Merilyn, I do not recall giving you my name. How did you know it was Christabelle?”
“I heard someone talking to you at another cart. The man said your name and asked how your siblings – Carsten, Chloe, and Constance – were doing. He also asked about the health of your father. He is not ill, is he?” Merilyn was quick with her response and the words flowed like an easy stream from her lips. She did not miss a beat.
Christabelle assured her new friend that her father was just fine, but was worried he would not understand her wanting to leave Trebhor. She asked Merilyn to go with her and speak to her father. Merilyn agreed. Christabelle helped her pack up her cart, tie it to her horses, Meadow and Storm, and they walked toward Blacksmith Logan’s home. Along the way, Christabelle told her brief life story and how she thought it odd her father would not talk about his ancestors, the Heled’s. Merilyn assured her that, when it was time to know more, all would be revealed.
Logan met Christabelle and Merilyn a few feet from the family’s house.
“Oh Father! I have the most wonderful news!” Christabelle leaped into her father’s arms. “I am going to Mornastead with Madame Septimus! I can finally see the world, meet new people, experience more of life!” Her fervent joy nearly overwhelmed Logan. Logan was suspicious, but managed a slight smile at Merilyn as he hugged his daughter.
“Now, hold on, sweetheart. You have only just met this woman; and why the hurry to leave your home? You are still not married, nor even promised to anyone. How can I trust that you will be safe?” Logan’s voice was fearful but gentle. He always knew the day would come when his restless daughter would leave Trebhor; he had just hoped it would not be so soon.
Constance and Chloe stood at the house door beckoning for their father and sister to bring the new friend in for supper. Christabelle ran to her sisters, lifted and hugged them both. She said something just above a whisper, and the three girls let out shouts of glee. Logan looked at Merilyn, who herself was smiling so broadly the wrinkles on her nose and forehead looked lovely to Logan. He shook his head as if to clear cobwebs, and with a smile, he waved his arm inviting Merilyn to go ahead. “After you, Madam Septimus.”
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
But Wait, there's more! If you act Right Now...
Amelia opened her black umbrella immediately before she strode out the door. Why had she purchased a black umbrella? She didn’t care for black items; she preferred more bright and colorful accessories like her fuchsia leather purse and magenta deer skin gloves. Just as she remembered why her umbrella was black, a blaze of lightning and roaring thunder shook her. Her eyes shifted upward. When was the last time she had enjoyed nature’s artistry?
The sheets of rain poured from the sky, beating on her umbrella like a drummer’s riff. As Amelia turned to walk the shiny flagstone path, she noticed tiny gray-green creatures frantically hopping left, right, over her feet. Tree frogs, she thought, happy to freely leap, sensing that death would no longer become them. What sense was there in squashing these playful critters anyway? She smiled slightly and lifted her head observing through the rain the leafy trees lining the path. Her eyes followed the trees out the yard, cut off by blacktop, continuing on the other side of the street, flourishing over the land and marching up the mountain. The last time Amelia gave notice to the mountain was the day she moved to this town. She remembered her life was full of hope, grand expectations, and…
Another shot of lightning; this one over the group of trees across the street. Was it following her line of sight? Amelia had always believed in omens and premonitions, until her life changed. Perhaps, now, with the weight lifted, she could find that magical part of her she had lost. No, not lost, given up, all for the sake of the illusion of happiness. But, wasn’t happiness something you find and not make?
The rain eased as Amelia gingerly walked the path. As she approached her mailbox she spied tiny violet flowers encircling the mailbox post. Her smile peaked again, and there was a glimmer in her eyes. She stooped down and gently touched the delicate lime-green stems feeling the minute water droplets from the petals. Was it the shimmer of the water or the gleam in her eyes that made these flowers bright and surreal? Why had she never seen these before? Had she been so dominated, so isolated from the outside world that she did not know what lived in her own yard?
Amelia rose slowly. On the way up she focused on the tree trunks a street-width from her. I’m on my own schedule now, she announced to herself; I do not have to be anywhere or do anything that is not of my choice! Her smile filled her face and her mouth opened just wide enough to let out a girlish giggle. Amelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the fresh, warm dampness. She dropped her umbrella near the mailbox – being sure not to injure the petite flowers – took off her sensible shoes and walked barefoot across the road.
Standing with hands on her hips, to the assembly of trees she announced, “I’d like to go for a walk amongst you. I promise not to pick your fruit without permission, and will steer clear of any exposed roots, if you will promise to not whack me with your dead branches. Do we have a deal?”
The rain had nearly stopped, but there was still the sound of rogue drops hitting leaves. Cool air scented of pine and antique wood streamed from inside the grove. Amelia entered. This time, she said to herself, this time I will not take my life for granted. She raised her arms from her side, held her palms and face toward the sky and began to laugh and dance freely in the soft, wet grass.
The sheets of rain poured from the sky, beating on her umbrella like a drummer’s riff. As Amelia turned to walk the shiny flagstone path, she noticed tiny gray-green creatures frantically hopping left, right, over her feet. Tree frogs, she thought, happy to freely leap, sensing that death would no longer become them. What sense was there in squashing these playful critters anyway? She smiled slightly and lifted her head observing through the rain the leafy trees lining the path. Her eyes followed the trees out the yard, cut off by blacktop, continuing on the other side of the street, flourishing over the land and marching up the mountain. The last time Amelia gave notice to the mountain was the day she moved to this town. She remembered her life was full of hope, grand expectations, and…
Another shot of lightning; this one over the group of trees across the street. Was it following her line of sight? Amelia had always believed in omens and premonitions, until her life changed. Perhaps, now, with the weight lifted, she could find that magical part of her she had lost. No, not lost, given up, all for the sake of the illusion of happiness. But, wasn’t happiness something you find and not make?
The rain eased as Amelia gingerly walked the path. As she approached her mailbox she spied tiny violet flowers encircling the mailbox post. Her smile peaked again, and there was a glimmer in her eyes. She stooped down and gently touched the delicate lime-green stems feeling the minute water droplets from the petals. Was it the shimmer of the water or the gleam in her eyes that made these flowers bright and surreal? Why had she never seen these before? Had she been so dominated, so isolated from the outside world that she did not know what lived in her own yard?
Amelia rose slowly. On the way up she focused on the tree trunks a street-width from her. I’m on my own schedule now, she announced to herself; I do not have to be anywhere or do anything that is not of my choice! Her smile filled her face and her mouth opened just wide enough to let out a girlish giggle. Amelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the fresh, warm dampness. She dropped her umbrella near the mailbox – being sure not to injure the petite flowers – took off her sensible shoes and walked barefoot across the road.
Standing with hands on her hips, to the assembly of trees she announced, “I’d like to go for a walk amongst you. I promise not to pick your fruit without permission, and will steer clear of any exposed roots, if you will promise to not whack me with your dead branches. Do we have a deal?”
The rain had nearly stopped, but there was still the sound of rogue drops hitting leaves. Cool air scented of pine and antique wood streamed from inside the grove. Amelia entered. This time, she said to herself, this time I will not take my life for granted. She raised her arms from her side, held her palms and face toward the sky and began to laugh and dance freely in the soft, wet grass.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Something to keep you busy
Here is a very rough scene I wrote. There is swearing.
Comments welcomed!
A couple stands together in the ceramic tile aisle of a big-box do-it-yourself store lit by overly-bright fluorescent lighting.
With a saccharine calm voice the first person says, “I like the sandy-red color better.”
“Well, it fits your purpose, but not the room.” says the second, disgusted and gruffly.
The first moves toward the second, and with an asp hiss in their voice “Look, you told me you didn’t want to talk about it today. You just wanted a normal day and this adventure to Home Depot” the person pauses, and continues with added anger “was your idea of normal.”
In mumbled concession, “Fine. I think the gray and blue marbly one would be a better choice.” The second crosses their arms and moves closer to the displays.
“I dunno” the first trails off. Then with a smile and modest satisfaction, “If it gets wet, there’s the danger of slipping and falling.”. The first gives a vaguely audible menacing snicker.
The second spins angrily to face the first and speaks through gritted teeth, “Damn, can’t you leave it alone?!”
The first thrusts their arms in the air and in a near scream, “What?!”
Other people in the aisle perform quick turns to stare at the couple.
The first gives a nervous laugh and in a near silent angry voice, “Shit just because I’m trying to make our life better doesn’t give you the right to be such a bitch!”
With a calmer tone in order to appease the irate partner, “It’s just that everything you say seems to refer to…”
Hurried, “Shh!”
From the corner struts a young man with tan leathered skin and rough hands. He approaches the couple, “Can I help you folks find anything? Got any questions about tile?”
With innocence the first nervously says, “Oh, no, we are just starting to decide on color and texture.”
“Oh, OK. Is this for a bathroom or kitchen?”
The couple simultaneously speak out, “A second bathroom.” As if frightened by their words, they give each other startled and awkward glances
Stepping toward the display and reaching to touch a mock-sandstone the muscled employee says, “Well, you may want to stay with something that has a rougher texture and a neutral color. That way you don’t have to worry about a slippery surface and it will be easier to keep clean.” He gives that “I work on commission” salesman grin.
The second of the couple gives off a disgruntled huff.
Confused and concerned employee “I’m sorry?”
With a snide smile and breathy voice the first person approaches him slowly.
“Nothing, my husband is just frustrated with me taking so long to decide. You know, a woman wants everything perfect. And, clean, and, neat, and, tidy…”. Her Cheshire smile fills her face.
The employee takes an uncomfortable step backward from the couple. “Yea, I, uh, suppose.” He gives a questioning stare at the man. “Well, I’ll just let you two talk some more. If you need any help, my name is Brad. Here’s my card.” As he hands the woman his business card she lightly touches her hand to his.
As she approaches Brad, a scheming glint in eyes and smile, “That’s funny; my brother’s name is Brad, too. And, ya know,” prowling around him, looking slowly up and down his frame, “you look a bit like him. Same build, hair’s a little longer, no beard. I didn’t notice it until just now.”
Nervously the man moves over to her. “Honey, I think we should…
She stalks closer to Brad and purrs “No, maybe Brad can be of help to us.” She circles Brad, moving closer with each round.
“Well” unsure and uncomfortable, with motivation to earn commission Brad speaks, “I’ll be glad to help you”
She cuts him off sharply and with another purr, “Would you be willing to…”
“Tess, no!” he yells as he darts between the two.
Tess scowls at her husband and in a second smoothly turns to Brad and with a honey-dripping voice says, “Excuse my husband; he has been very anxious about our ‘project’.”
The husband regains his composure. “Brad, I should be the one to apologize. My wife just wants to make sure we make the right choices.”
They couple stands toe to toe, her shoulders rounded, and ready to pounce; he planted with bending knees ready to move in any direction.
Brad feels his hair stand on end. “I think I should be…”
Suddenly his hip radio blasts with a transistor man’s voice. They are all startled from their places. The hear, “Brad that shipment’s in. Can you come to the loading dock and give us a hand?”
With a quick nervous grasp, Brad pushes hard on the Talk button. In a hurried voice, “Yea! I’m comin’ right now!”
Brad politely turns to the couple and explains, “Uh, sorry I couldn’t be more help folks. I hope you find what you want.” He gladly rushes away.
Tess’s voice is guttural, “Oh, I found what I want…”
The husband has had enough. “Goddam bitch!” he tensely whispers. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Look” Tess snarls, pointing at him with her long finger nailed index finger, “you have been a pansy about everything since we got married. That’s why we live with this woman!” Her rage builds, her voice rasping, “She is a royal bitch and you are her lap dog! If you want to stay married to me, you either do this and make it look like an accident, or I’ll just reveal your sick secrets to the DA.”.
The husband opens his mouth, and then closes it slowly. With shoulders slumped, cowering to her, “OK, I hear you.” He gulps for air. “But, why does it have to be so, so,” he hesitates “so gory?”
Tess gives a sigh of disgust and, for the third time in three days explains, “You need to help me do this; she trusts you. We need to work as a team.”
Comments welcomed!
A couple stands together in the ceramic tile aisle of a big-box do-it-yourself store lit by overly-bright fluorescent lighting.
With a saccharine calm voice the first person says, “I like the sandy-red color better.”
“Well, it fits your purpose, but not the room.” says the second, disgusted and gruffly.
The first moves toward the second, and with an asp hiss in their voice “Look, you told me you didn’t want to talk about it today. You just wanted a normal day and this adventure to Home Depot” the person pauses, and continues with added anger “was your idea of normal.”
In mumbled concession, “Fine. I think the gray and blue marbly one would be a better choice.” The second crosses their arms and moves closer to the displays.
“I dunno” the first trails off. Then with a smile and modest satisfaction, “If it gets wet, there’s the danger of slipping and falling.”. The first gives a vaguely audible menacing snicker.
The second spins angrily to face the first and speaks through gritted teeth, “Damn, can’t you leave it alone?!”
The first thrusts their arms in the air and in a near scream, “What?!”
Other people in the aisle perform quick turns to stare at the couple.
The first gives a nervous laugh and in a near silent angry voice, “Shit just because I’m trying to make our life better doesn’t give you the right to be such a bitch!”
With a calmer tone in order to appease the irate partner, “It’s just that everything you say seems to refer to…”
Hurried, “Shh!”
From the corner struts a young man with tan leathered skin and rough hands. He approaches the couple, “Can I help you folks find anything? Got any questions about tile?”
With innocence the first nervously says, “Oh, no, we are just starting to decide on color and texture.”
“Oh, OK. Is this for a bathroom or kitchen?”
The couple simultaneously speak out, “A second bathroom.” As if frightened by their words, they give each other startled and awkward glances
Stepping toward the display and reaching to touch a mock-sandstone the muscled employee says, “Well, you may want to stay with something that has a rougher texture and a neutral color. That way you don’t have to worry about a slippery surface and it will be easier to keep clean.” He gives that “I work on commission” salesman grin.
The second of the couple gives off a disgruntled huff.
Confused and concerned employee “I’m sorry?”
With a snide smile and breathy voice the first person approaches him slowly.
“Nothing, my husband is just frustrated with me taking so long to decide. You know, a woman wants everything perfect. And, clean, and, neat, and, tidy…”. Her Cheshire smile fills her face.
The employee takes an uncomfortable step backward from the couple. “Yea, I, uh, suppose.” He gives a questioning stare at the man. “Well, I’ll just let you two talk some more. If you need any help, my name is Brad. Here’s my card.” As he hands the woman his business card she lightly touches her hand to his.
As she approaches Brad, a scheming glint in eyes and smile, “That’s funny; my brother’s name is Brad, too. And, ya know,” prowling around him, looking slowly up and down his frame, “you look a bit like him. Same build, hair’s a little longer, no beard. I didn’t notice it until just now.”
Nervously the man moves over to her. “Honey, I think we should…
She stalks closer to Brad and purrs “No, maybe Brad can be of help to us.” She circles Brad, moving closer with each round.
“Well” unsure and uncomfortable, with motivation to earn commission Brad speaks, “I’ll be glad to help you”
She cuts him off sharply and with another purr, “Would you be willing to…”
“Tess, no!” he yells as he darts between the two.
Tess scowls at her husband and in a second smoothly turns to Brad and with a honey-dripping voice says, “Excuse my husband; he has been very anxious about our ‘project’.”
The husband regains his composure. “Brad, I should be the one to apologize. My wife just wants to make sure we make the right choices.”
They couple stands toe to toe, her shoulders rounded, and ready to pounce; he planted with bending knees ready to move in any direction.
Brad feels his hair stand on end. “I think I should be…”
Suddenly his hip radio blasts with a transistor man’s voice. They are all startled from their places. The hear, “Brad that shipment’s in. Can you come to the loading dock and give us a hand?”
With a quick nervous grasp, Brad pushes hard on the Talk button. In a hurried voice, “Yea! I’m comin’ right now!”
Brad politely turns to the couple and explains, “Uh, sorry I couldn’t be more help folks. I hope you find what you want.” He gladly rushes away.
Tess’s voice is guttural, “Oh, I found what I want…”
The husband has had enough. “Goddam bitch!” he tensely whispers. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Look” Tess snarls, pointing at him with her long finger nailed index finger, “you have been a pansy about everything since we got married. That’s why we live with this woman!” Her rage builds, her voice rasping, “She is a royal bitch and you are her lap dog! If you want to stay married to me, you either do this and make it look like an accident, or I’ll just reveal your sick secrets to the DA.”.
The husband opens his mouth, and then closes it slowly. With shoulders slumped, cowering to her, “OK, I hear you.” He gulps for air. “But, why does it have to be so, so,” he hesitates “so gory?”
Tess gives a sigh of disgust and, for the third time in three days explains, “You need to help me do this; she trusts you. We need to work as a team.”
Monday, August 24, 2009
School Days
School days, school days
dear old golden rule days...
Mondays have me in only one class, The Professional Teacher. I've never met the instructor - but apparently everyone else in class is on a first-name basis with him. I was anxious as I had heard conflicting reports - good and bad - mostly bad. I think this is one of those "keep my head down" classes - which, is fine with me. Homework is rather simple - a cover letter and a resume. "But, that's difficult!" you say. Yes, if I had to start from scratch. However, the instructor has a format we must follow. So, it is plug-n-play.
I sincerely hope tomorrow is a bit more challenging.
Do you want me to post what I write for this class?
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Last Year
As in "This is my last year of school" (for now...)
Tomorrow marks the first day of the last in-school semester for me before I receive my teaching certification. I still have to take the Praxis 2 test, which I plan to do after student teaching.
In the meantime, I'm nervous & anxious about school. Why? What do you think?
Sunday, August 16, 2009
British Literature
I realized I have left undone something I started. I do that alot and I don't like it at all!
But since I have so few readers, and none have complained, I still feel the need to complete my journey through British Literature.
So, over the next few days, I'll post some of my reflections on writers after 1700. If you want more, just ask.
Oh, BTW, I'm still stuck as to what to write my Lit Crit paper on for the 2nd 1/2 of Brit Writers. And, it is due Sept 4! Ideas?
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Decisions
On the advice of a current Graduate student, I have decided to forgo the learnin' of po-etry, for now. I figure I can find plenty of books and books on tape about the subject to learn myself it.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Friday, July 31, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Canterbury has lost its shine
Oh, how disappointed I was! However, I don't know the correct placement of that disappointment - should it be on the Old English (OE) Modern English (ME*) mixture that I read; or should it be on myself for idealizing the Canterbury Tales (or Chaucer himself)? I do not know. Perhaps I will decide by the end of this writing/post.
I read part of the General Prologue (insert number of lines here). I knew I did not need to read the entire Prologue in order to get information about my tale of focus, the Wife of Bath. I did, however, read the entire (quite long) Wife Prologue and her tale. Tiring, these readings were. This is why I think the OE/ME mixture interfered with my enjoyment of the reading and created the disappointment (perhaps I am using the incorrect word...I shall see).
I will also admit to using Spark Notes. With the back and forth from OE to ME to footnotes to just notes..I lost a lot of the story idea. After reading SN, I think I missed much more than I realized.
The General Prologue
I wonder if Chaucer picked 29 travelers for a reason, or was it just a number he pulled out of the air. If he had lived long enough to finish all 29 stories, we'd have quite the book to read! I also wonder why he chose to write the stories of people in the order he did - that is, the book gives us 7 stories; why did he write these first, especially if he intended to write other tales to intermingle with these 7?
Spring is the time when all comes anew. Spring cleaning is a very old tradition - sweep away all the bad vibes that have collected while the house has been closed to the winter weather. Spring flowers and awakening of trees are likened to new or young love - we feel free-er and wish to enjoy time outside in the fields. Taking a pilgrimage at this time seems apropos.
As Chaucer becomes one of the people in the pilgrimage and recites the tales from memory, he becomes the unreliable narrator. Not that he lies or embellishes; but we know that by including himself with the travelers, he is influenced by the people on a 24/7 basis which leads him to prejudice of the people and the tales. However, he does give each person near equal time and place to tell their stories, even though they come from different social classes. Perhaps a kind of equality based on the fact that one person is no better than another.
The Wife of Bath
The humor of this story was lost on me the first time I read it (again, the back and forth). So, after reading SN, the second reading was quite fun, but also sad. I can see the feminist aspect - the Wife has not held back her wants, needs, desires, or truth. Yet, this is written from a man's point of view and, if we are to believe one of the interpretations, she uses cunning and deceit to get what she wants - which gives women a bad reputation.
But, let's consider for a minute that she felt she had to be cunning and deceitful to assert herself and get what she wanted. Considering there were so few choices for women in the 14th century - not only how they live their lives (with or without a husband) but how to survive in a male-dominated world. Her use of King Arthur's wife as the decider in the tale is the Wife's way of asserting the premise that women DO rule the world, if by cunning and deceit, so be it. After all, men will not listen (usually) directly to women - we (as women) must trick men's minds. That is, we convince our husbands that, it was not our (wife's) idea to put up shutters, but the man's idea; after all, what know we of shutters?
*I realize that ME usually stands for Middle English. Because I am not referring to Middle English in this writing, I am taking liberties and using ME as shorthand for Modern English.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Sir Gwaing, Finally
I had to force myself to stop reading "Sir Gwain & The Green Knight" after Part 1. Why? Well, as fun as it is to read, I knew I had much more reading to do. I'll go back to Sir Gwain to find out how he (or if?) defeats the Green Knight. I'm also hoping the story will tell me why the Knight is green. (note to B - I don't know if it has any reference to the Green Man...would be cool, thought).
Alliteration - one of my most favorite ways to write. Sir Gwain is full of alliteration! This style adds to the bounce and enjoyment of the piece. It also makes the writing memorable and recall particularly easy; "Bold boys bred there, in broils delighting" is easier to remember than "Courageous men grew up there", wouldn't you say? As well, the alliteration and tempo of the piece make it easy to become engrossed in the action. It becomes more than just a Fairy Tale - the piece comes to life, you are in the action, you become Sir Gwain (or the Knight). Fascinating work!
As I was reading the stanzas, and came to the "bob & wheel" I found myself almost stopping and reading those lines as slow and dramatic .... I suppose ending of one section, melting to the beginning of the next. I'm having difficulty explaining this. Perhaps it is the Shakespearean drama reviving itself in my head. The alliterative and expository stanzas which tell the story are "cut" with dramatic pauses to (1) transition to the next part of the narrative; or (2) reiterate the main idea in the previous stanza; or (3) offer more perspective on the story as a whole.
Enough studious stuff...Some words and phrases I found interesting:
Line 44: "For the feast was in force full fifteen days," Why fifteen? Fourteen is alliterative, too - is it because of the 'rule of 3'?
Line 53: "comeliest king" I am hoping that at the time, to be a comely king was a compliment, and not as the word is used now - to be plain.
Lines 115 thru 129: I had the impression of a Dinner and a Show (humour)
Line 297: "twelvemonth and a day" In many Pagan (quite a bit in Wiccan & Druid) religions, schooling of the religion is said to take (require) a year and a day. I don't know if there is any relation here; it would be interesting to find out.
These are my thoughts and insights on Sir Gwain. Next up, Wife of Bath from Canterbury Tales!
Cheers!
Alliteration - one of my most favorite ways to write. Sir Gwain is full of alliteration! This style adds to the bounce and enjoyment of the piece. It also makes the writing memorable and recall particularly easy; "Bold boys bred there, in broils delighting" is easier to remember than "Courageous men grew up there", wouldn't you say? As well, the alliteration and tempo of the piece make it easy to become engrossed in the action. It becomes more than just a Fairy Tale - the piece comes to life, you are in the action, you become Sir Gwain (or the Knight). Fascinating work!
As I was reading the stanzas, and came to the "bob & wheel" I found myself almost stopping and reading those lines as slow and dramatic .... I suppose ending of one section, melting to the beginning of the next. I'm having difficulty explaining this. Perhaps it is the Shakespearean drama reviving itself in my head. The alliterative and expository stanzas which tell the story are "cut" with dramatic pauses to (1) transition to the next part of the narrative; or (2) reiterate the main idea in the previous stanza; or (3) offer more perspective on the story as a whole.
Enough studious stuff...Some words and phrases I found interesting:
Line 44: "For the feast was in force full fifteen days," Why fifteen? Fourteen is alliterative, too - is it because of the 'rule of 3'?
Line 53: "comeliest king" I am hoping that at the time, to be a comely king was a compliment, and not as the word is used now - to be plain.
Lines 115 thru 129: I had the impression of a Dinner and a Show (humour)
Line 297: "twelvemonth and a day" In many Pagan (quite a bit in Wiccan & Druid) religions, schooling of the religion is said to take (require) a year and a day. I don't know if there is any relation here; it would be interesting to find out.
These are my thoughts and insights on Sir Gwain. Next up, Wife of Bath from Canterbury Tales!
Cheers!
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Sir Gwain...Almost
After 2 weeks of the flu, and now almost myself again, I figured I'd post to let you all know that I haven't forgotten my school work!
I read Part 1 of Sir Gwain & the Green Knight.
I've now moved onto the Prologue to Canterbury Tales.
I plan to move to The Bath Wife Tale tomorrow.
Yes, I will write about all of these marvelous things in due time.
Patience.
I read Part 1 of Sir Gwain & the Green Knight.
I've now moved onto the Prologue to Canterbury Tales.
I plan to move to The Bath Wife Tale tomorrow.
Yes, I will write about all of these marvelous things in due time.
Patience.
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