Sam has a new English teacher, his third in three months (though the English he and Michele get here is not really useful, so they just follow the lesson for the sake of it, when they don't get something different to do). She's Hannah, from the States, and is replacing Fernanda in first and fourth grade, so Mattia, after a week of transition, since last Monday has been enjoying some more time to prepare classes or relax from the ever growing stress.
Hi ... I note from your blog entries a theme of change of farewells of poverty of violence of rubbish of concrete and of risk and stresses
ReplyDeleteI also read of teaching and physical activities, of new volunteers of joy of food and fellowship of making the best, hope in the Lord and lots and lots of love. So I know you guys like poetry and my "go to" poem is by Seamus Heaney it is called 'Postscript' and every time I read it I seem to escape my surroundings and marvel that God has given us the faculty to imagine and to glimpse something profound like eternity. So I paste the poem here in a bid to let you taste Ireland again and inspire you on your journey. I suggest you write it out by hand then get your kids to draw shamrocks around it and then tack it up
John from Belfast
Postscript
by Seamus Heaney
And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other
So that the ocean on one side is wild
With foam and glitter, and inland among stones
The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit
By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans,
Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,
Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads
Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.
Useless to think you'll park and capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,
A hurry through which known and strange things pass
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open