Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Meanwhile . . .


. . . the successful poet (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow) also worked full time at Harvard University, lectured, and directed the Modern Languages department. The department was meant to consist of four men teaching in their native languages: Spanish, French, Italian, and German. When a position was vacant, Henry had to fill in. Frustrated with his situation, Longfellow wrote to his father in September of 1839, "But my work here grows quite intolerable; and unless they make some change, I will leave them, with or without anything to do. I will not consent to have my life crushed out of me so. I had rather live a while on bread and water." Longfellow managed to tolerate the situation for another 15 years.

By 1854 Longfellow was able to resign his teaching post at Harvard; he had become, at age forty-seven, one of America's first self-sustaining authors. For the next seven years, Henry was able to pour his energies into his writing, unimpeded by teaching duties and supported by the love of his family.



(from The Song of Hiawatha)

By the shore of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
At the doorway of his wigwam,
In the pleasant Summer morning,
Hiawatha stood and waited.
All the air was full of freshness,
All the earth was bright and joyous,
And before him, through the sunshine,
Westward toward the neighboring forest
Passed in golden swarms the Ahmo,
Passed the bees, the honey-makers,
Burning, singing in the sunshine.
  Bright above him shone the heavens,
Level spread the lake before him;
From its bosom leaped the sturgeon,
Sparkling, flashing in the sunshine;
On its margin the great forest
Stood reflected in the water,
Every tree-top had its shadow







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Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Cowboy Justice. . .

. . . is something that we really need. Twice as effective as mercy now for which they plead. If I can't get you to see things the way I do, something happens. I start the process. See it through. Its what I've been taught to do. And I'll teach you.

No one tells me just what I can or cannot do. My advisors, some say, are keepers of a zoo. I don't mind if you think that what they say is real. I'm in charge here, at least that's how they make me feel. That's a part of the deal and it came true.

Gotta see it my way. I'm giving people what I want. It's a price I must pay. We cowboys know how to be gallant.

There's no question of right or wrong here to debate. Disagree though, you'll be subjected to the hate that's influcted on member of the team like you. 'Cause we cowboys will never worry if we're few. Our justice is true. Make no mistake.

COWBOY JUSTICE
©2006 Raymond M. Jozwiak

An instrumental rendition of COWBOY JUSTICE
appears on the CD PUT A FINGER ON IT
©2008 Raymond M. Jozwiak
COWBOY JUSTICE sample




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Sunday, March 13, 2011

It's fast becoming. . .

. . . my conviction that truth is really so much stranger than fiction.
Is that the way it ought to be ?
It's not my eyes that do the seeking. Even a blind man sees agenda we're keeping.
Is that the way it ought to be?
I never thought I'd be looking behind like I do. Not quite sure just what I'll see.
But I'm rarely surprised by the antics of many; surprised by the antics of few.

It's one thing that they never mentioned. Back in my school was only so much convention.
Is that the way it ought to be?
And now we find it's what we're teaching. We're all conditioned. See the numbers we're reaching?
Is that the way it ought to be?
How can we say there's a god in his heaven above watching, directing with love?
And while on bended knee, we proceed to make judgement on things that we don't like to see.

It's fast becoming my conviction that truth is really so much stranger than ficion.



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