Writer Crews

I have an immortal nose. It is the nose of Aunt Barbara - who is a teacher, like me - happy, like me - and I want to be vibrant at 70 like her. It is the nose of Grandma Baldwin - who was a giant in a petite package - whose faith could pull you in - who hit things in her big car, like me. My nose is hanging in a Vermont Museum on a prominent Baldwin of old, on a woman who doesn't smile nearly as much as me. The bones that show a hole where my nose used to be are buried, in a small Upstate New York cemetery, in the casket of a woman who led a more difficult life than me. When I'm done here - my nose will live on - giving some future little girl a ledge for her glasses, if she happens also... to get my father's eyes.

You never know when she'll flip It may be standing in the grocery line when she feels the hum of florescent lights dulling her senses It could be when she's driving and forgotten to turn on the radio so her ears ache for fulfillment You never know when she'll decide her mouth has been parched too long and she needs to taste livliness And in an instant no matter the audience she'll break out into a song a dance a diatribe or into your life

A seed, light, full of promise a seedling on the pathway to reaching potential so much hope contained in it's tiny vessel so much my responsibility for without nourishment this seed will never grow I feel too small to be the sun, water and soil to this little girl

I vividly remember going in for my first interview at a popular sandwich shop. I had on my best white loafers, cuffed powder blue shorts and a pastel splashed cotton shirt. I wore my best shoes because I remembered hearing something once about how employers judge you based on the condition of your shoes. Someone should have told me not to wear the shorts, but it didn't seem to matter. As I asked for an application the manager came out, gave me an impromptu interview and hired me on the spot. My career has pretty much gone like that ever since. I apply, I interview, I get the job. I've got a perfect record. I've never even been fired. Oh, they tried once at the sandwich shop, but I cried. I explained that I thought 'requesting' time off meant that I'd get the time off and I didn't mean to miss two days of work. And then I cried some more... until they said never mind. So, technically, I've never been fired. Since that first job throwing toge...

In the classroom, I weave magic pulling from their hearts, spinning their interests into what I teach I charm the snakes, help falcons soar, remove invisible cloaks and carve out barriers so waters of knowledge flow Threading a connection, weaving a safe haven dyeing their fabric into colors that spark They bring from me - an energy and I stitch it into their days So they learn... So I love... All my ancient powers drawn out on the loom the teacher within me weaves magic They may not notice the carpet of knowledge laid before them - until it carries them forward of their own little spell For when they weave magic on their own... I know I've taught them well. P.S. To all my little magicians out there, I am so proud of you!