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Inspirational

Drop a Pebble in the Water

Drop a pebble in the water: just a splash, and it is gone;
But there's half-a-hundred ripples circling on and on and on,
Spreading, spreading from the center, flowing on out to the sea.
And there is no way of telling where the end is going to be.

Drop a pebble in the water: in a minute you forget,
But there's little waves a-flowing, and there's ripples circling yet,
And those little waves a-flowing to a great big wave have grown;
You've disturbed a mighty river just by dropping in a stone.

Drop an unkind word, or careless: in a minute it is gone;
But there's half-a-hundred ripples circling on and on and on.
They keep spreading, spreading, spreading from the center as they go,
And there is no way to stop them, once you've started them to flow.

Drop an unkind word, or careless: in a minute you forget;
But there's little waves a-flowing, and there's ripples circling yet,
And perhaps in some sad heart a mighty wave of tears you've stirred,
And disturbed a life was happy ere you dropped that unkind word.

Drop a word of cheer and kindness: just a flash and it is gone;
But there's half-a-hundred ripples circling on and on and on,
Bearing hope and joy and comfort on each splashing, dashing wave
Till you wouldn't believe the volume of the one kind word you gave.

Drop a word of cheer and kindness: in a minute you forget;
But there's gladness still a-swelling, and there's joy acircling yet,
And you've rolled a wave of comfort whose sweet music can be heard
Over miles and miles of water just by dropping one kind word.

James W. Foley


Unity

I dreamed I stood in a studio
And watched two sculptors there,
The clay they used was a young child's mind
And they fashioned it with care.

One was a teacher;
the tools she used were books and music and art;
One was a parent with a guiding hand and a gentle loving heart.

And when at last their work was done
They were pround of what they had wrought
For the things they had worked into the child
Could never be sold or bought.

And each agreed she would have failed
If she had worked alone
For behind the parent stood the school,
and behind the teacher stood the home.

by Ray A. Lingenfelter, Elementary Principal


You Never Know

You never know when someone
might catch a dream from you.
You never know when a little word
or something that you might do,
May open up a window
of a mind that seeks the light.

The way you teach may not matter at all,
but you never know, it might.

And just in case it could be
that another's life through you
might change for the better
with a broader, brighter view.
It seems it might be worth a try
to do what you know is right.

The way you teach may not matter at all,
but you never know, it might.


I am the Child

I am the child,
All the world waits for my coming,
All the earth watches with interest to see what I shall become.
Civilization hangs in the balance,
For what I am, the world of tomorrow will be.

I am the child,
I have come into your world,
About which I know nothing,
Why I came I know not;
How I came I know not;
I am curious;
I am interested.

I am the child,
You hold in your hand my destiny,
You determine, largely, whether I shall succeed or fail.
Give me, I pray you,
Those things that make for happiness.
Train me, I beg you,
That I may be a blessing to the world.


Here's to the kids who are different,
The kids who don't always get A's.
The kids who have ears twice the size of their peers,
And noses that go on for days.

Here's to the kids who are different,
The kids they all call crazy and dumb.
The kids who aren't cute and don't give a hoot,
Who dance to a different drum.

Here's to the kids who are different,
The kids with the mischievous streak.
For when they have grown,
As history's shown,
It's their difference that makes them unique.


First is Best

Yes, I teach the first grade.
Where else would a handsome and very young man put his arms around me and ask, "Do you know that I love you?"
Where else would I tie so many hair ribbons and belts and daily get to see a style show of pretty dresses and shirts?,
Where else could I wear the same dress day after day and be told each time that it is pretty?
Where else could I walk up and down aisles and have warm hands touch me?
Where else could I have the privilege of wiggling loose teeth and receive a promise that I may pull them when they are loose enough?
Where else could I eat a soiled piece of candy from a grimy little hand and not get ill? (I have to eat it because he watches to see that I do.)
Where else would the future look as bright as it does amid an energetic group to whom nothing is impossible?
Where else could I guide the first letter formations of a chubby little hand that may some day write a book or an important document?
Where else could I forget my own aches and pains because of so many cut fingers, scratched knees, bumped heads and broken hearts that need care?
Where else could I forget taxes and even "the state of the nation" because Stevie isn't grasping reading as he should and other methods must be tried?
Where else would my mind have to stay so young as with a group whose attention span is so short that I must always keep a "bag of tricks up my sleeve"?
Where else could I feel so close to my Maker as I do each year when, because of something I have done, little children learn to read?
Yes, I do teach the first grade, Mr. and Mrs. America. And I love it!

by Mrs. Janet Gorell Meyer


Searching for Gold

Look beneath the freckles
Look beneath the grin
Look for that which sparkles
Buried deep within.

Look beyond the whining
Look beyond the tears
Look beyond the runny nose
The frowns, the mess, the fears.

Search for that which glitters
Treasures to unfold
Search beneath the surface
Search and find the gold!

by Jean Warren


The Gift of the Memorable Child

The child that is my challenge is a gift.
Only he can give me
The gifts of patience, tolerance, and acceptance -
If I let him.

He will be the one to make me into a true Teacher
And challenge my very soul.

I can learn more from this child
Than from much of my college coursework -
If I choose to.

A child is not something that is "broken"
For me to "fix".
This child comes to me a unique individual
Worthy of love - just as he is.

Will I choose to rise to the occasion?
Or be yet another to throw my hands up?
Do I have it in me to maybe be the one
that can make a difference?
Is he maybe the one
that will make a difference in me?

Will I choose to let him?

Cathy Abraham

www.CanTeach.ca