Monday, January 30, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
40 Write about Hansel and Gretel or Abandonment
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Write About What Can't Be Measured
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Write about a Time Life Surprised You
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Write about Robots or Toys
Friday, January 20, 2012
How do you Survive Big Bad Bully Bus?
The Big Bad Bully Bus words and music by Barry Lane by Barrylane55
The Big Bad Bully Bus
Thursday, January 19, 2012
41 Write about North or South
Here I am standing at the gateway to the Arctic in Barrow, Alaska, True North. It is just about the farthest north you can go in the United States of America. Those are whale bone ribs framing the Arctic ocean. I was told that in Norway and Scandinavia this place is as well known as the Washington monument. How far north have you been? What does North mean to you? Who is north in your life? Let's Write about North.
90 North |
At home, in my flannel gown, like a bear to its floe, I clambered to bed; up the globe's impossible sides I sailed all night—till at last, with my black beard, My furs and my dogs, I stood at the northern pole. There in the childish night my companions lay frozen, The stiff fur knocked at my starveling throat, And I gave my great sigh: the flakes came huddling, Were they really my end? In the darkness I turned to my rest. —Here, the flag snaps in the glare and silence Of the unbroken ice. I stand here, The dogs bark, my beard is black, and I stare At the North Pole . . . And now what? Why, go back. Turn as I please, my step is to the south. The world—my world spins on this final point Of cold and wretchedness: all lines, all winds End in this whirlpool I at last discover. And it is meaningless. In the child's bed After the night's voyage, in that warm world Where people work and suffer for the end That crowns the pain—in that Cloud-Cuckoo-Land I reached my North and it had meaning. Here at the actual pole of my existence, Where all that I have done is meaningless, Where I die or live by accident alone— Where, living or dying, I am still alone; Here where North, the night, the berg of death Crowd me out of the ignorant darkness, I see at last that all the knowledge I wrung from the darkness—that the darkness flung me— Is worthless as ignorance: nothing comes from nothing, The darkness from the darkness. Pain comes from the darkness And we call it wisdom. It is pain. Randall Jarrell |
Metamorphosis Class
Transformation Class Could Change Your Life
Attention all students, this afternoon, after school , by order of the principal, we will begin transformation class. Please bring your bodies and minds, your thoughts and ideas, and especially, your dreams. You see a transformation class is where we learn to become our dreams.
I met this boy and girl last week and they invited me to tell the principal about this class. I have talked to the principal and he has approved it and now I want to invite you to it. It is never too late to live your dreams. It is never too late to see a world that others can’t imagine. It is never too late to transform hate and suffering into love and joy. Human beings, you see ,are all alchemists. We have a magic process that turns lead into gold. Come learn about this process.
If you feel sometimes like a sad larva, come to the Transformation Class after school and see that you have wings waiting to lift you up into the blue sky of your dreams.