Another favorite poem: this one by Edna St, Vincent Millay

The railroad track is miles away,
And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn't a train goes by all day
But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn't a train goes by,
Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,
But I see its cinders red on the sky,
And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with friends I make,
And better friends I'll not be knowing;
Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take,
No matter where it's going.

Winter

Frozen ponds shimmer
Evergreens smell fresh and sweet
Snowflakes kiss my face

Make the World a Better Place

I would like to submit a news article to our district website which highlights and honors your committment to making the world a better place. What have you done that you'd like our community to know about? What dreams do you have for our class, school, town, or world?

Reply with your hopes, dreams, plans, or successes. Celebrate your great ideas!

Reply to this blog and get and Easy Button - extra credit? a chance to win an iTunes card? Your choice!

What are your suggestions for making math class more interesting, useful, or meaningful? Please be realistic (I can do a lot, but even I have limits...)

Also, don't forget to vote for your favorite subject (see right).

Thanks!

Mrs. Stupar

I remember memorizing a Robert Frost poem when I was in fifth grade. Here is one perfect for cold, rainy November days.

Have you ever memorized a poem?

MY NOVEMBER GUEST
by: Robert Frost (1874-1963)

MY Sorrow, when she’s here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She’s glad the birds are gone away,
She’s glad her simple worsted gray
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.

"My November Guest" is reprinted from A Boy's Will. Robert Frost. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1915.

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

We went to the UK! Stonehenge rocked!