anncarb
I love getting orders in the mail. Orders I didn't chose. Orders I did. But then there are the orders I hate. When I'm ordered to do something. To think something. To be something. those orders are no fun at all. Or holy orders. very few people try that today. Why? It doesn't make sense. Orders.
Tracking
students hate it
teachers say they hate it
but do we really?
No, we don't
Tracking is not like hunting
It is a tool
A way to help students find others
a way to see what is working
and what isn't
a way to look closely
Tracking does not
have to be a curse
it shouldn't be
it should be a tool.
She looked everywhere. She had to have it. If not, everyone would know. Or, at least someone would know. Her slip. She had to have her slip. Tossing her hair behind her shoulders, she took a deep breath, bent her knees, and looked under the bed. No slip. Just his dead, open eyes staring into hers.
The men lay in the trenches. Mud was everywhere he looked. Above, below, inside. He felt like the entire world had become mud. He didn't think he would ever see the sun again. All that existed was the mud. And the trenches. And the men. The stinking, filthy, heroic men. He would find some way to get them out of the trenches. Some way.
Damage was yesterday's word. I feel damaged by the idea that I dont have a new word to write about. If damage is important, and I think it is, it's also important to move forward. To let go of the damage that i"ve caused and that has been thrust on me. It's time to move forward and to let go of all the damage.
It happens. One minute, everything is fine. You are invincible. the next? Damage. All around. What do you do? Try to fix it. Put it all back together. But, the damage, it is probably too severe. It can't always be fixed. Especially when it involves people. Then it is forever.