Irony & Emily Dickinson

are like silly and Jim Carrey. Today, I really outdid myself. I created a lesson plan to plumb the depths of ED's poem:

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

(This version is clearly no scholarly edition- there are no dashes. I got it off the internet.) I thought this would be a really fun and easy poem to teach meter. The English is less cumbersome than Shakespeare, etc. And, the killer extended metaphor. It's rich!

But, my afternoon block were horrid the last 2/3 of the block. So, I'm going to let my first block do the really uber cool peace-doll project. And, I have put together a packet for the kids who do not know how to be quiet. My hope nearly got squashed.

I heard a thought-provoking Ash Wednesday sermon. He talked about almsgiving, praying and fasting as the components of Lent. He broke down alms-giving into interesting facets: giving people the benefit of the doubt, giving yourself grace. And, he called my bluff about time and prayer. I got into two cool conversations at Wal-Mart due to the ashes on my forehead.

I now must test drive uber cool peace-doll project. Cross your fingers.

P.S. Good news: I got an invite to Italy. Bad news: It's not all expenses paid. Good news: It's in the summer, and I've never been to Italy. Bad news: Already have a trip to DC and BC planned.