A Shadow Story

Have you ever thought about the stories that are hidden? You know, the ones that whisper from deep within the shadows of the books that have already been written? What follows is one such story—two “chapters” long, and stitched together from three different texts. Each paragraph addresses one or more issues I’ve been considering over the last few months in relation to my own life, and offers a nugget of insight worth pondering.

I

"Mysteries, she realized, had their own laws. No matter how marvelous they appeared to common folk, they still followed their own natural order. As a hound couldn't fly nor an apple tree blossom with roses, so those of the green had their own strictures that they must observe" (de Lindt, 1993, p. 88).

“First, look at people and try to find the truth within them. You need to understand people, really understand them, if you’re going to be a hero . . . . Second, beware of things that shine and glitter and make promises, especially promises that play on your weaknesses . . . . Third, you have to have a strong imagination” (Bode, 2007, p. 43).

"But knowing took the sight, to see beyond the world that is . . . and practical as housey-folk were, they believed only what they could hold and weigh . . ." (de Lindt, 1993, p. 92).

" . . . a good thing, to be sure, but a place of limited joys" (Dunkle, 2008, p. 3).

II

"The witch wanted him to feel again, but feeling encompassed remembering, and remembering only hurt. What use was the gift of the green if all it brought was pain?" (de Lindt, 1993, p. 136).

"We all carry the dark places inside us . . . ." "'I'm not . . .' Angharad began, but then she thought. Not what? Not a bad person? Perhaps. But had she never known anger? Never held unkind thoughts? The stranger's observation was valid. No one was innocent of darkness" (de Lindt, 1993, p. 85).

"She turned, not sure she could bear another of his sorrows. He might be able to forget them, but she could not. They were a part of her now. She took them willingly--for that was part of a poet's task--regretting only that in taking them, she did not lessen his burden" (de Lindt, 1993, p. 98).

"So Angharad sang to him before she left, a song of the loneliness that wisdom can sometimes bring--when the student won't listen, when the form is bound to the earth by its roots and only the mind ranges free" (de Lindt, 1993, p. 54).

References

Bode, N.E. (2007). The slippery map. NY: HarperCollins Publishers.

de Lindt, Charles. (1993). Into the green. NY: Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

Dunkle, Clare. (2008). The sky inside. NY: Atheneum Books for Young Readers.

The Test

Standardized
For the fourth time
But it didn’t help
Her make sense

What was
Didn’t matter
She felt

Her meaning
Reduced
Like a fraction
No remainder.

Cherice Montgomery, July 11, 2008

Thanks

Look what showed up at my house one night this week! My sister and her family surprised me with some encouragement to keep working on this miserable dissertation. Then my sweet friend, Trinette, stopped by with lunch yesterday. I am so grateful to all of you who have listened to me whine and complain, crumble with discouragement, cry floods of tears, and otherwise emote. You are the ONLY reason I have made it this far and I DO appreciate your sacrifices for me and feel your prayers. I don't deserve you, but I'm certainly grateful for you.

A Very, Very, VERY Long Road

Supposedly, I'm on the home stretch of what has been a very long, intensely painful, very miserable four years. It involves finishing a dissertation, prepping a 10-day summer institute for Chinese teachers, and revising a paper required for graduation--all in the next three weeks. (We won't even talk about the cross-country move that awaits me after that.) From my vantage point, the road ahead looks very long, very muddy, and filled with irritating mosquitoes (like IRB renewals)!

I'd rather be writing about the abundant life that fills the rest of the world, like the inch-long ant (seriously!) that came to visit me last night, my favorite tree--perfect in every season, the bird parents that faithfully feed the babies that live above my balcony at 5:30 a.m. and 5:30 p.m., or the idyllic farmscapes on the way to my friend's houses. I guess "real" life, and its accompanying stories, will have to wait for another day.

For now, here's the Twitter version of my dissertation (plus a few additional characters):



The world has changed. School hasn't. Although learning is inherently joyful, school is absolutely mind-numbing. Most educators lack the vision and the transliteracy skills to create compelling learning environments. High quality professional development shifts perspective through powerful paradigms, playful pedagogy, and the modeling of multiple representations. As teachers view their professional responsibilities through new lenses, changes in their practice follow.

And this is the Twitter version of my current take on graduate school: Dissertations make you dumb!