18,000 words

The touring of the Trinity Episcopal MS Choir began in the very early hours on Saturday.  Am pleased to state that I not only brought home the same children that I left with~but that they (per usual for singers) behaved themselves well.

Very breezy shot as we arrived in Dallas.

Making wise choices for lunch (i.e. not pure sugary products~they all had to prove to me that they were having one portion of protein...they had NO idea when they signed up for choir that their dietary habits would be altered.)

Please notice the darling boy in the center with the bow tie and sling~he recently snapped his collar bone and despite innervating pain, his dad drove him to Dallas and back for TEN minutes of singing.  That, my friends, is a true choral person.

The other wounded singer who snapped her ankle earlier~it was nice to see the kids take turns pushing her around Six Flags in a wheel chair so that she could have just as much fun as they.

Being the teacher means you do room check at the end of an 18-hour day and take cell phones away so they actually sleep instead of endlessly Snapchatting.  They had to turn them off in my presence because I promised a painful death if one of them rang in the middle of the night and woke me.

But I provided a tray FULL of doughnuts the next morning to ease their pain~or rather, the Crowne Plaza did.

Beautiful detailing in the lobby flooring provided a labyrinth walk while I was waiting for them to clear their rooms and check out.

We had a smooth ride home and just missed the wild t-storms and flash flooding that I thought would hit in the middle of our trip.  Whew.

And Bogart had tales to tell of his 48 hours of bachelor life.  And I don't care if it's only 3 p.m.~I am going to bed.

from the spotlight to sewage in twenty-four hours

I got to spend today with the 8th graders on an Earth Day outing~we were at the waste treatment site in Austin.  A very pleasant mellow day~breezes, birds, a few bugs, and best of all?  It wasn't my circus~I was merely a helper.

Stay tuned for tales of my circus~which begins tomorrow morning at 6:30 a.m.

let evening come

I know that I often reference Jane Kenyon's lovely poem, but the words (and the memory of conducting it as a choral piece) hang with me.  

My first week in Austin, I bought some twigs of jasmine with the hope that I would plant them in my own yard at some point.  They outgrew their pots this spring and I had to give them away.  As well as that particular dream.  So, I am determined to enjoy the neighbourhood blooms right now and I marvel at walking through this arch made ENTIRELY of jasmine on my way to the library each week!

The final stanza of her poem:

Let it come, as it will, and don’t   

be afraid. God does not leave us   

comfortless, so let evening come. 

My choir did a pre-tour concert this morning and I left a note on the board for the 7-8th graders and returned to find this art work!  I love those little squirrels.

Sitting in traffic this evening while admiring the wildflowers.

Meanwhile, in VA, a Babushka gets her shopping on.  Fourteen days until I'm there to help!

if there be fairies (or chocolate rivers)

Belief
by W. H. Auden

We do not know
if there be fairies now
  Or no.
But why should we ourselves involve
In questions which we cannot solve.
  O let's pretend it's so
And then perhaps if we are good
Some day we'll see them in the wood.

irony

Enjoyed an outing to the Hill Country this morning.

While my friend and I were lounging in the picnic area, we watched the staff setting up for an evening wedding and this (!) is what they used to cordon off the area.

on the other hand

When you are too tired to dice your tomato for dinner, it's time for the show to be over.

On the other hand, these festive silk heels are going to every show!

I'm All Right

One of my voice students sang this zippy Irving Berlin tune tonight, so I thought I'd use it for the poem of my day.

Taking stock of what I have and what I haven't
What do I find?
The things I got will keep me satisfied
Checking up on what I have and what I haven't
What do I find?
A healthy balance on the credit side

Got no diamond, got no pearl
Still I think I'm a lucky girl
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night

Got no mansion, got no yacht
Still I'm happy with what I've got
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night

Sunshine gives me a lovely day
Moonlight gives me the Milky Way

Got no checkbooks, got no banks
Still I'd like to express my thanks
I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night
And with the sun in the morning
And the moon in the evening
I'm all right

consider this rehearsal, dressed

Some of the most darling Oompa-Loompas you'll ever meet.

Final bows~I'll post some of the official photographs~these were just the quick ones I grabbed from the piano bench.

Our stalwart news anchors who reported on all the Golden Ticket winners.  Other than a eight foot pillar being knocked completely off the stage and down the steps, it was a fairly good final rehearsal.  Am glad that our first audience tomorrow is the Lower School group~they'll be enchanted no matter what happens.  And that will inspire the actors.

The parents with their miscreants.

Grandpa Joe, Charlie, and Wonka (yes, she is a girl Wonka!!!)

This little guy played Paris in the autumn production of Romeo and Juliet~he was on stage for maybe 6 minutes the entire show and stole the whole thing.  He's pretty much doing the same thing here.   He still has that mystical exuberance that children have that allows them to believe that a river just might be made entirely of chocolate.

6th Period Asks Why

When I read my work emails this morning and discovered that an outdoor classroom/amphitheatre had been constructed over the weekend, I knew that at least one of my classes was going to be outside today.  We've been having the perfect spring days of 80 degrees and crisp (finally, after all of last week's humidity) sunshine.  I had my kids write/draw nature reflections~here is mine.  A response to their question of why we were outside for class. 

6th Period Asks Why

Why indeed.
                              because it is 85 degrees with zero humidity
                                     because your teacher is ta-ird

because breezes & butterflies
            are preferable to the harsh fluorescent confinement of the classroom

because there are bluebonnets & cicadas & crickets
          (& according to the creek-wandering girls~also human-chasing snakes)

because on this April Monday, you are all posed in a liminality
                 that, at 13, you cannot possibly understand

because.

the rivah sleeps beneath the skaaaaaw

Just home from a lovely lake walk after a Sunday rehearsal for our upcoming choral festival. One of the selections we're doing is an exquisite modern setting of the Harlem Renaissance poet~Paul Laurence Dunbar.

THE river sleeps beneath the sky,
And clasps the shadows to its breast;
The crescent moon shines dim on high;
And in the lately radiant west
The gold is fading into gray.
Now stills the lark his festive lay,
And mourns with me the dying day.
While in the south the first faint star
Lifts to the night its silver face,
And twinkles to the moon afar
Across the heaven's graying space,
Low murmurs reach me from the town,
As Day puts on her sombre crown,
And shakes her mantle darkly down.

swallowed with all hope

Roses on my Trader's walk this evening

It's April!!  Which means it is (among all the crazed moments in the Arts Dept~in the next 16 days, we have three Wonka performances, a choir trip to Dallas, and the visual art show/annual auction) thirty beautiful days of celebrating POETRY!!

As it's been a day of wild storms and high energy at school, I am going with a contemplative choice today.

Measure the walls. Count the ribs. Notch the long days.
Look up for blue sky through the spout. Make small fires
with the broken hulls of fishing boats. Practice smoke signals.
Call old friends, and listen for echoes of distant voices.
Organize your calendar. Dream of the beach. Look each way
for the dim glow of light. Work on your reports. Review
each of your life’s ten million choices. Endure moments
of self-loathing. Find the evidence of those before you.
Destroy it. Try to be very quiet, and listen for the sound
of gears and moving water. Listen for the sound of your heart.
Be thankful that you are here, swallowed with all hope,
where you can rest and wait. Be nostalgic. Think of all
the things you did and could have done. Remember
treading water in the center of the still night sea, your toes
pointing again and again down, down into the black depths.

"Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale" by Dan Albergotti from The Boatloads. © BOA Editions, Ltd., 2008.