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Dust in the Wind
Can you sleep with yourself at night? What have you done during the day that may give you pause at night? Have you given it your best shot during the time you have? Have you done what you think is the right thing to do? Did you help anyone today? Did you cheer someone up? Did you let someone know they’re not alone? Or, that there are other people who feel the same way they do? What have you done today that is worth remembering? Have you made something that is worth keeping around after you are gone? Whether it is artistic, or handy, or just thought –provoking, what have you done? If you haven’t done anything, why not? Don’t you think you should? What would you like to do? It doesn’t need to be mind-blowing does it? Couldn’t it just be something fun? Or just a small thing to entertain people? Will anyone remember you? If so, what for? What about your family? What memories will you leave for them? “And When I Die” by Laura Nyro… “And when I die, and when I’m gone, there’re be one child born in this world to carry on.”
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To Write, or Not To Write of Teaching (“To Be, or Not To Be” rewritten)
To write of teaching or not to write on’t? That is the question. Whether ‘tis better for the mind to suffer the trials and tribulations of teaching malpractice, or to put the pen to paper to oppose it, and by opposing, end it. To train, to teach once more; and by teaching, to end the heartache and the thousands of drop outs that school is heir to? ‘Tis a higher outcome devoutly to be wished. To train, to teach, and in teaching perhaps they learn; Aye there’s the rub, for in that classroom toil, what dreams are born. When they have graduated school, what they shall achieve will give us pause. To teach respectability that lasts a lifetime long; To teach them to stand tall to the sneers and scorns of lesser minds, to end oppression’s wrongs, to be proud even though ridiculed. To bear the pains of lost contests, to rebuff the bully, no matter his size. To teach him to think on his own, so that when it’s quiet, his mind will higher rise. Who would packages bear, grunt and sweat, a day laborers life, never knowing from whence the next meal, and to dread the not knowing. …