the Hispanic Festival at Carolina Friends School

Kelly releases the best of who we are

the teacher has a vision,

a way for who she is

to release itself even more fully within the school,

a way to make even more of a difference,

her whole self engages with her lower and middle school students,

helping each move forward in their understanding and use of Spanish,

and then to enter into understanding

the countries, peoples, cultures,

for whom Spanish is the way thoughts are formed,

love expressed, connections made, life lived,

today, for the second year in a row, she is the major force

pulling off an Hispanic festival at Carolina Friends School,

as students, parents, visitors, and staff enter,

an enthusiastic greater shouts: “Hola!” at all,

dancing with a welcoming poster,

within: booths of food, information, games, flags,

a program of song and dance, of enthusiasm and Spanish,

with students announcing each part in Spanish, then in English,

the afternoon is of joy and multicultural celebration,

of individuals risking to be enthusiastic,

of groups coming together and bringing us along

with the power of their movement and song, and expression of self,

a part of our community celebrated as who we are,

a model of how our school can be one with the many.

by Henry H. Walker

October 10, ‘19

give them the chance to triumph

middle schoolers and self-doubt

an advisee blurts out:

“Why are middle schoolers so anxious 

about performing in front of others?”

some answer they don’t know,

one answers that it’s simple: 

“They are middle schoolers.”

I answer that in the middle school ages,

people click into a new understanding, 

a new realization of self,

and self in relation to others,

rather than empowering the optimist within,

too often such a change empowers the pessimist within,

the syndrome of the imposter can permeate them,

the fear that changes without and within

are distorting the formerly unblemished child

into a budding adult with acne on the face and in the soul,

the face and body that were perfect for parent and grandparent,

distorted toward the wrong,

and they fear what others see in them,

for each cannot see self in a real mirror,

but instead they see self in a funhouse mirror,

all wrong and funny-looking,

what a school needs to do

is to accurately mirror back to the student

the extraordinary self that is already there,

and can become even better

if believed in by others, and by the self itself,

beware the smudge, the flaw in the view,

believe in the new which builds upon the old,

and can triumph if but given the chance.

by Henry H. Walker

October 10, ‘19

ADHD reality

living life at a different speed

I remember a Star Trek episode

where the crew of the Enterprise 

had to deal with a humanoid life-form

who lived life faster than they,

an hour to us maybe a second for them,

this episode comes to me

as I empathically leap into my students’ worlds, 

we come up with an acronym, ADHD,

and that seems to help us get the challenges faced

by a student who is hyper-aware,

who lives her/his/their life

with different governors within:

beware the predator who attempts to sneak up on them!

they live their life   

doing the best they can 

to please parent, teacher, self,

yet they’re living on a tightrope

with pulls of attractive stimuli to every side,   

I can attempt to insert myself and my ideas of how to move forward,     

but I can then often get a perplexed “What?” in response,

I believe in each child and their drive to do well,

I am challenged by my own drive to do well,

and my feeling out of sync with the student,

as they seek to figure how to succeed in a game

whose rules only vaguely appear to them,

I feel like Captain Kirk in that Star Trek episode,

knowing there’s a different reality out there

and aching to understand it.  

by Henry H. Walker

October 5, ‘19

are we a melting pot? or . . . ?

A Metaphor for the U.S.A.

traditionally, we are a melting pot,

where all differences dissolve into a collective whole,

with individuality of group lost,

subsumed into the larger,

maybe, a tossed salad, with each group

keeping its differences but together making a unity,

though mouth and stomach make it into a melting pot,

maybe a stew, with each group retaining some uniqueness,

but at the edges slipping into the whole,

maybe a choral group, where the individual voice shines

within a larger shining of the wholeness of the piece,

in our private school, we trumpet the value of diversity and inclusivity,

still we require that members of the community

accept our unifying philosophy which chooses some truths as not relative:

love over hate, 

peaceful problem-solving, not violence,

empowerment over disenfranchisement

the rights of non-traditional genders

over the rigid denying of a fundamentalist belief system,

how much are we as a country a confederacy

of separate but equal subdivisions,

with no common purpose, no common set of values,

a hundred flowers blooming?

it seems that now we are stuck

in a schizoid country with two different realities,

between which we have to choose,

as if we are not really part of the same whole,

we need to find common ground, and build upon it,

whatever the metaphor that best describes who we want to be.

by Henry H. Walker

September 29, ‘19

on a cusp

middle school, and anxiousness

what a gift it is

to witness and cheer on

the middle schooler awakening

into the power of mind and heart,

the middle schooler, though,

has settling down on them

more than their fair share of anxiousness,

a fear that each is an imposter,

just faking it

while others must be real,

thus school can be a source of tests

that cannot be passed,

how sad it can be to wake up into fear,

to turn a corner and be hugged by anxiety,

no wonder that silliness and avoidance call to them,

just as with many of us, each can be on a cusp,

and the mature side of the choice is heavy.

by Henry H. Walker

September 26, ‘19

Day and Night, Half and Half

Fall Equinox ‘19

a curve of Moon rides high above me in the pre-dawn,

one satellite slips to the east,

near it another slips to the north,

the air is cool but more appetizer than promise,

as the 80s will ride the afternoon,

in the garden yellow tomatoes endure,

as do the Kentucky Wonder pole beans,

Native pumpkins, like peachy tan Easter eggs,

hide among their ever-diminishing leafy vines,

most of the basil has given up the ghost,

but the okra still offers tender pods each day,

Summer has been long, hot, and dry,

the tropics keep spawning storm after storm,

fed by the too-hot salt water beneath them,

and, for now, the capricious airs above us

hold them at bay, and mid-ocean,

the climate is changing, and not for the better,

the Equinox should be a time of balance,

with day and night, half and half,

that is still true,

this year, though, 

half the people demand we deal with our problems

and half the people deny there are problems,

despite rising oceans and epic storms,

winter reaches toward us but can’t yet get here,

just as common sense can touch us but not rule many,

the dogwood leaves seem to feel winter coming,

and start shifting away from green,

our red maple is even more prescient and forgets color

as it prematurely drops its leaves,

I have the half-chocolate, half-vanilla cookies at the ready,

but even I, who created the Sol Pole,

almost forgot to celebrate the Equinox at celestial noon,

I am reminded of it all by the artist on our staff,

and we chant:

“Equi, Equi, Equinox,

Day and night, half and half,”

then eat our cookies,

and quickly return to routine,

how like where we are as a culture:

momentous realities cascade upon us,

and the moments of our individuality

eclipse the collective truth

that we cannot quite deal with,

one of my students writes of an upcoming birthday party,

which draws her more than an “existential crisis,”

the celestial universe, the dance of Earth and Sun,

insists there is balance,

while our human world 

denies any truth that isn’t comfortable.

by Henry H. Walker

September 23, ‘19

the great city of New York

a country mouse in the city

I am excited to be in New York,

me, a child of nature,

who most feels at home

where the buffalo roam, or did,

me, like Davy Crockett,

who found the smoke of a neighbor’s fire

telling him to go further away

from the contagion of people,

me, who loves to be alone on a mountain top,

alone exploring a stream, a flower,

the enigmatic schedules of a bear,

I love being here in New York, 

where canyons are made by human construction, 

buildings which rise straight and presumptive,

where people are everywhere,

each different as a snow flake,

each also me if I let my self soar

into imagining how very alike we are

in our dreams and in our fears,

how each difference in us is like a spice

that helps me awaken a sense within me

that loves to savor how incredible the world is

that we humans can envision and create,

New York City shouts of the hope

our species needs to endure, and prosper.

by Henry H. Walker

September 13, ‘19