The budget cuts have hit home.  They cut three "units" at my school-- one of them was my class.  I wasn't the last ESE person hired, but I was the last that didn't have continuing contract.  Because there were no official openings at my school when the deadline passed, they couldn't offer me continuing contract at all.  I didn't see that one coming.  After being there 3 1/2 years with excellent reviews, I thought I'd get offered my contract and get placed somewhere if I was cut, even if it had to be at another school. Wrong. Ouch. Ego bruise...

Now, the panic has begun to set in. They say I am welcome to apply for any positions in the county that get posted. A principal that hires me may choose to offer me a contract after just one year of working for him/her.  Or, it could be like a cohort from my graduating class who got cut from her school last year.  Her new principal wants her to work a second year at her new school to get to know her better... that will make a total of 4 1/2 years. Usually, contracts are offered after 3 years service with good reviews.

With the new legislation they have been trying to pass (to do away with continuing contract), I wonder if I will ever get mine.  But, I'll worry about that later.  For now, I'm just praying for a job. I know there are many similarly affected Americans in even worse situations than I am.  I pray for us all.

 With the new legislation that the Senate is proposing, the Math department reckons that we are looking at about a 9% reduction in total benefits. I was already driving a 13 year old car; now I'll be driving a 30 year old used vehicle.

I try to do my part.

Logan, 6 mos
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I had my own sunrise service.  It was just Jesus and me and the birds; we enjoyed it very much. Then, we were joined by a jet full of folks and the man-in-the-moon.  We didn't mind.

The more, the merrier.  Happy Easter, Xanga friends!

I would love to acknowledge the photographer, but it was uncredited.

Michel got me thinking about writing a poem about my grandfather's chair, but as I began to compose it, a photo someone had sent me of a little girl with an elephant wouldn't leave my mind. The chair became her stool; the poem went another direction.  I love writing poetry.  I never know where it will take me.

All-of-Five
ringlets galore
leans, one tip-toe just touching ground
from a circus-red stool
firmly into the side
of a sedately seated pachyderm
cheek pressed
arm hugging round
as far as it will go
best friends-style

The field they gaze so intently beyond
is wide and bare
homes at the far side
the kind of place where traveling shows
stop for a while

What dreams trapeze
between beauty and her beast?

　    2/20/2010 Cheri Neuman Herald

Saturday, our Sunshine Poets poetry group traveled to Zephyrhills, Florida, to the 10th year anniversary celebration of a sister poetry group, the New River Poets.  The hosts live in a 1938 school house they converted into a home.  The wife is an art teacher at a primary school; her artwork (and her husband's) completely cover the walls and high ceilings.

Old school-house built in 1938 with Public Works money.

                                                                                    You can see the former stage at the far end.

      Garnering strength to read poetry.
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One of the poems read was about a blue coat.  That triggered this:

one sycamore leaf
cups January flurries
in the green grass

1/09/2010 Cheri Neuman Herald

There used to be a little caption under our profile pic that said member since...  I can't find it any more.  Mine should say: Member since Dec. 24, 2000. 

It's been a nice nine years. Not only is Xanga a great place to publish my poems, but I have been able to share with writers from all over the world. We belong to one of the largest writers' groups in the world.  We don't have to drive to meetings, and my lifetime dues were paid some time ago.  I can wander into Xangaland at any hour of the day or night and read an endless variety of stories, poems, journal entries, rants, and musings. I can leave a comment, or quietly back out and close the door.  There is a comfort in knowing that somewhere there is a light on.

Right now, I'm the only one up at my house; later, you might wander over, coffee cup in hand, and leave a comment.  We will connect.  I like that.

Sar Shalom

Grandpa Richard with Logan, two months

There's nothing like a baby to bring out the gentleness of a tough guy.