"Brain Dead"

            Yesterday’s writing products included two personal reflections, which I whipped out easily once I focused on my topics, and two poems. I labored long and hard over the poems, with the delivery of each taking much longer than the laid-back nature of my prose musings. My unexpected block of time stemmed from taking a substitute assignment with high school students who labored over their personal narratives. We mirrored each other, faces scrunched in concentration as fingers tapped quickly, hesitated, and then flew across our keyboards. My role as guide-on-the-side left me with blocks of time to both think and write. In my teaching days, I would have shared all of my pieces with my students to model my drafting processes and discuss improvements to the end results. As a substitute, I only share if the classroom teacher left instructions to work with the class. One student yesterday queried about my writing, and I explained that I wrote a blog. She nodded her head absentmindedly, shifted her Chromebook for me to see her assignment and offer my feedback. I always hope that my modeling writing (and all of the messy processes that go with it) sends the message that writing continues throughout a person’s life. It doesn’t end with school.

            I entered today’s campus with the knowledge that writing wouldn’t be an option with first grade students. Imagine my delight when I found a student teacher in the room, ready to take over the class! I did a happy dance because of this unexpected treat of another block of time to write as I observe instead of teach.

            I hauled my favorite pen and current spiral from my tote. I flipped through yesterday’s lists, cross-outs and scribbles. I smugly stretched side to side, flexed my fingers, and poised my ball-point over the blank page. And nothing came. I inhaled, exhaled, shot my eyes around the room for inspiration (elementary school teachers cover their walls with brilliance and imagination). Nothing.

            I changed over to a computer, loaded Word onto the screen and fixated upon the pulsing cursor on a blank screen and only two words came to me “brain dead.” Ha! That’s all I needed!

Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

               

"Lost Child"

Little boy with bright mischievous eyes

And no control over his actions

In kindergarten he remains friendless

No other child walks with him—arm flung around his shoulders—sharing secrets

In first grade he cannot read

His wildness presses against school’s restraints

As he fights conformity

No other child walks with him—arm flung around his shoulders—sharing secrets

Second grade demands attention

But numbers whirl by in him

Until he becomes senseless and numbed by Adderall

No other child walks with him—arm flung around his shoulders—sharing secrets

He slows down and gives up

Submitting to rules and regulations

Molding himself into submission

Still—

No other child walks with him—arm flung around his shoulders—sharing secrets

Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Pet Free"

                In recent months, I’ve fielded questions about getting another dog since Bridget’s death. Many people find it puzzling that our family moves toward the idea of becoming pet-free once Koi (now nine) dies. For so many friends and family members, loving an animal brings constancy and happiness into their daily routines. Pets bless them with unconditional, honest love. Their lives would be less without their dogs or cats (and other animals).

Brindle

            I can only talk about our own heartbreak each time a pet has died. Because we kept our cats indoors, they each lived over fifteen years. Paul’s dog, Dixie, reached fourteen years while Bridget died after her sixteenth year. We simply don’t think we can survive beginning a journey with another pet and survive the inevitable loss. Our Koi will be an only animal. Since someone’s frequently home, he seems to have adjusted to Bridget’s death. He’s a little ditzy, and I sometimes think he believes she’ll be back soon.

Dixie

            Once Koi’s gone, we’ll slip into a different life pattern. I know my heart will tug because no little dog anticipates my arrival, nor cats nonchalantly ignore my arrivals. I already miss the weight of Bridget on my feet, or Padme’s flicking tale blocking my access to the keyboard, or Sassy’s tender head butt. I don’t think I’ll ever miss the all-enveloping sorrow of their loss.

Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Sassy

Padme

Bridget

Koi

"Liar"

Full eye contact with head tilted “just so”

The words he speaks ring false and hollow

He moves his hand smoothly down her arm

Tries to blind her with his deceitful charm

His veneer appears glossy and smooth

He’s a trickster who distorts the truth

Through a phony wink and cocked eyebrows

He seduces with his empty vows

He manipulates her emotions

By conjuring deceptive notions

He craves her devotion on a whim

As her passion means nothing to him

He’s a con artist, a promoter

He’s barren inside—a pretender.

Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Reproduction Rant"

         Not everyone should reproduce.

         There! I’ve said it!

        Somehow our religions and culture make having children a priority to such a degree that both sexes falsely believe that reproducing is their right instead of a privilege.

        I spend many hours frustrated by the arcane attitude that a person’s value to society stems from the number of offspring popped out during the reproductive years. No one cares about the emotional maturity of the parents. How is it logical to encourage an immature teen (one who wasn’t educated well enough NOT to get pregnant) to have and raise a child? I don’t know how many times my students would complain that they shouldered the responsibility of younger siblings because Mom had a date. Imagine young children not getting to go trick-or-treat on Halloween because Mama has a party she needs to attend instead! The instability of extremely young parents means they subject their children to frequent moves—from the grandparents, to a new boyfriend/girlfriend’s place, back to grandparents, over to the non-custodial parent—in and out of homes, apartments, cars . . . But hey! Parenthood gives them praise by society, family and friends. Once the “newness” of an infant or toddler runs dry, these young parents often decide to have another child. Their reasons range from “not wanting too many years between siblings” to “I think this new relationship will last if we have a baby together” to “I’m such a good mom/dad! See! I have kids to prove it!

          Religions love the theme of being fruitful and multiplying, and yet no one seems too concerned about the financial responsibilities parents shoulder when they decide to reproduce. Some people chant, “God will take care of it all,” and then their children don’t have enough food, medical care, or security.  I’ve often heard people say stupid things like, “If we waited to have kids until our finances were in order, we’d never have had kids.” My point exactly. Financial security makes a huge difference in the welfare of each child brought into the world. I don’t mean someone needs to have a high income to have children, but forming a family means more than just providing a lifetime investment for food, clothing, shelter, and education. It calls for parents to become secondary to the needs and wants of their children. It requires love and acceptance. It means nurturing the spirit and dignity of another human being—forever.

          Frankly, if you can’t do that, you should never have children. Our society and churches should support individuals and couples who are attuned to their inner core and know that parenting isn’t for them and give them praise and support instead of criticism and ostracism.

Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman