"The Pressure of the Game," Karley Dobis

“The Pressure of the Game”

Slowly dripping down,

And sliding off your face,

Showing all your fear,

As your heart begins to race.

You search for the break,

Looking at the slope,

You just can’t figure it out,

And you’ve lost all hope.

You talk to your caddy,

He’s stumped too,

So you go with your gut,

Since there is nothing better to do.

You let the ball go,

Rolling down the green,

Praying for a miracle,

You start to cringe and lean.

But then it falls,

Right down the cup,

So like Tiger Woods,

You do a fist pump.

You’re still in shock,

It just can’t be true,

But you have to forget it,

Now onto Hole Two.

Action List: 3.15.2011

Work on your own today. Headphones are fine. Do at least one of the following, make a post that responds to the questions posed, and then choose a follow-up activity.

1. Read a brief piece, "Let Kids Rule the School," from the New York Times about a school that let students make their own school within a school. Would that work here?

2. Browse this visual timeline of children's picture books. What books have your favorite illustrations, and what books do you have the best memories of?

3. Read this piece in the New York Times about "over achievers" in the NCAA basketball tournament. Does it make you question any picks you made in your brackets for this year?

Follow-up Activities:

* Confer with me about your ATW essay.
* Log some reading you've done lately.
* Compose a personal post about things on your mind or what you've been up to.

"[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]," e.e. cummings

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]

by E. E. Cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

"Mid March," Lizetter Reese

Mid-March

It is too early for white boughs, too late

For snows. From out the hedge the wind lets fall

A few last flakes, ragged and delicate.

Down the stripped roads the maples start their small,

Soft, ’wildering fires. Stained are the meadow stalks

A rich and deepening red. The willow tree

Is woolly. In deserted garden-walks

The lean bush crouching hints old royalty,

Feels some June stir in the sharp air and knows

Soon ’twill leap up and show the world a rose.

The days go out with shouting; nights are loud;

Wild, warring shapes the wood lifts in the cold;

The moon’s a sword of keen, barbaric gold,

Plunged to the hilt into a pitch black cloud.

"Wrist-wrestling Father," Orval Lund

On the maple wood we placed our elbows
and gripped hands, the object to bend
the other's arm to the kitchen table.
We flexed our arms and waited for the sign.

I once shot a wild goose.
I once stood not twenty feet from a buck deer unnoticed.
I've seen a woods full of pink lady slippers.
I once caught a 19-inch trout on a tiny fly.
I've seen the Pacific, I've seen the Atlantic,
I've watched whales in each.

I once heard Lenny Bruce tell jokes.
I've seen Sandy Koufax pitch a baseball.
I've heard Paul Desmond play the saxophone.
I've been to London to see the Queen.
I've had dinner with a Nobel Prize poet.

I wrote a poem once with every word but one just right.
I've fathered two fine sons
and loved the same woman for twenty-five years.

But I've never been more amazed
than when I snapped my father's arm down to the table.

Orval Lund

"Fire and Ice," Robert Frost

Fire and Ice

by Robert Frost

Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

[love is more thicker than forget], e.e. cummings

[love is more thicker than forget]

by E. E. Cummings

love is more thicker than forget

more thinner than recall

more seldom than a wave is wet

more frequent than to fail

it is more mad and moonly

and less it shall unbe

than all the sea which only

is deeper than the sea

love is less always than to win

less never than alive

less bigger than the least begin

less littler than forgive

it is most sane and sunly

and more it cannot die

than all the sky which only

is higher than the sky