We have created a culture of reading poverty in which a vicious cycle of aliteracy has the potential to devolve into illiteracy for many students. By allowing students to pass through our classrooms without learning to love reading, we are creating adults (who then become parents and teachers) who don't read much. They may be capable of reading well enough to perform academic and informational reading, but they do not love to read and have few life reading habits to model for children.

Shane, in case we don’t … don’t come out of this, I wanted to say…”He glanced over at her, and she felt her whole body warm from it. She remembered that look. It made her feel naked inside and out, but not in a creepy kind of way. In a way that felt…. Free. “If what you say is true, and I guess it has to be, I think I know why we’re … together,” he said. “I think I’d fall for you no matter what, Claire. You’re kind of awesome.

A Student is the most important person ever in this school...in person, on the telephone, or by mail.A Student is not dependent on us...we are dependent on the Student.A Student is not an interruption of our work..the Studenti s the purpose of it. We are not doing a favor by serving the Student...the Student is doing us a favor by giving us the opportunity to do so.A Student is a person who brings us his or her desire to learn. It is our job to handle each Student in a manner which is beneficial to the Student and ourselves.

Before I’ll take my clone on as a pupil in the craft of writing, he must prove his worthiness. He must write 100 thoughts down, of which 10 might be interesting. If he’s done that, good, then he must write 1,000 thoughts, of which 200 might be interesting. If he’s done that, good, then he must write 10,000 thoughts down, of which 4,000 might be interesting. If he’s done that, good, then he no longer needs me to teach him, because he has taught himself. And since he would be teaching himself, it would prove that I really am the best teacher.

He had never got so much back for himself from any pupil as he did from Miss Kronborg. From the first she had stimulated him; something in her personality invariably affected him. Now that he was feeling his way toward her voice, he found her more interesting than ever before. She lifted the tedium of the winter for him, gave him curious fancies and reveries. Musically, she was sympathetic to him. Why this was true, he never asked himself. He had learned that one must take where and when one can the mysterious mental irritant that rouses one's imagination; that it is not to be had by order. She often wearied him, but she never bored him.

ما المعلم ؟ سأخبرك : هو ليس من يعلّم أمرًا ، بل من يُلهم تلميذه أو تلميذته لتقديم أفضل مالديهما لاكتشاف ما سبقت معرفتهما له

There was once an abbot who had spent thirty-nine years alone in the temple with cats as his only companions. As someone who believed that faith and willpower could conquer any difficulty, the abbot began training newborn kittens, trying to turn the impossible into the possible. First he put the rattan hoop on the ground for the kittens to crawl through. Then he slowly raised the hoop little by little, day after day, month after month, and year after year. Years went by and the hoop was gradually raised until he finally succeeded in getting the cats to jump through the hoop. An unusual phenomenon occurred. When the kittens saw the older cats jump, they believed they could do it too and so, without much effort, they learned to jump easily through the hoop as well.

Narcissus’s thoughts were far more occupied with Goldmund than Goldmund imagined. He wanted the bright boy as a friend. He sensed in him his opposite, his complement; he would have liked to adopt, lead, enlighten, strengthen, and bring him to bloom. But he held himself back, for many reasons, almost all of them conscious. Most of all, he felt tied and hemmed in by his distaste for teachers or monks who, all too frequently, fell in love with a pupil or a novice. Often enough, he had felt with repulsion the desiring eyes of older men upon him, had met their enticements and cajoleries with wordless rebuttal. He understood them better now that he knew the temptation to love the charming boy, to make him laugh, to run a caressing hand through his blond hair. But he would never do that, never.

Do you know that when one who has influence with youth- be he teacher, leader or parent- seriously weakens the foundations upon which a young person has built, by faith-destroying challenges the youngster is not yet equipped to meet, he fashions a disciple who has been effectively cut loose from fundamentals at a time when he needs most to rely on them? The challenger may himself be a moral, educated, well-meaning person of integrity, doing what he does in the name of honesty and truth. His own character may have been formed in an atmosphere of faith and conviction which, through his influence, he may now help to destroy in his young follower. "Disenchanted" himself in his mature years, he turns his powers on an immature mind and leaves it ready prey for nostrums and superstitions and behavior he himself would disdain.

Many different kinds of sprouts lay torn. Green, purple and orange leaves lay scattered across the dark soil, and the thorn fence surrounding the bed had a fist-sized hole in it. Teacher eased himself into a squat, poked at the inside of the hole. Whatever made the hole had left blood on the thorns. The sprouts looked like wispy ghosts, pale and broken. Their delicate leaves and stems were riddled with bites. Life drained out of them like water dripping from a hanging cloth, and a breeze made them dance sadly. It felt like a funeral.Teacher picked up a gnawed berry and gently squeezed it until purple juice dripped down his thumb. He placed the berry by the plant’s roots.Chandi’s small face bunched up. “Are they dead?”“They’re dying, yes.” Yuvali took her hand. “But their bodies will help other plants grow.

You Chose You chose.You chose.You chose.You chose to give away your love.You chose to have a broken heart. You chose to give up. You chose to hang on.You chose to react.You chose to feel insecure.You chose to feel anger.You chose to fight back.You chose to have hope.You chose to be naïve. You chose to ignore your intuition.You chose to ignore advice.You chose to look the other way. You chose to not listen. You chose to be stuck in the past. You chose your perspective. You chose to blame. You chose to be right.You chose your pride. You chose your games.You chose your ego.You chose your paranoia. You chose to compete.You chose your enemies.You chose your consequences.You chose.You chose.You chose.You chose.However, you are not alone. Generations of women in your family have chosen. Women around the world have chosen. We all have chosen at one time in our lives. We stand behind you now screaming: Choose to let go.Choose dignity. Choose to forgive yourself.Choose to forgive others.Choose to see your value.Choose to show the world you’re not a victim.Choose to make us proud.

يظن الغمر أن الكتب تهدى ... ... أخاً فهم لإدراك العلوموما يدرى الجهول بأن فيها ... ... غوامض حيرت عقل الفهيمإذا رمت العلوم بغير شيخ ... ... ضللت عن الصراط المستقيموتلتبس الأمور عليك حتى ... ... تصير أضل من 'توما الحكيم

As she gazed into the ball of confession,she questioned, “Who will I be in this profession?”Years of life have come to show she is the portrait of a woman we have grown to love and know. With her heart on her sleeve and the wit that shows, she has inspired them all with her intensity and glow. Not the ordinary woman who walks without purpose, she lives to share her vigor with the children who walk Earth’s surface.A special woman who has awakened their minds, she has created a class of comfort and pleasure without intensity from father time.For the knowledge and warmth she brings the children follow her with looks of admiration.With her critical thoughts and queries she has opened their minds without invitation.She’s not a preacher of her own thoughts,but rather one who supplies the knowledge,One who allows their visions to flourish without indifference or carnage.So as she gazes into theball of confession, she will no longer question…For she will be a special woman I must say one beyond her own comprehension.A woman full of progression and forever a Teacher that will leave a lasting impression…

Alexander Hamilton Junior High School-- SEMESTER REPORT -- STUDENT: Joseph MargolisTEACHER: Janet HicksENGLISH: A, ARITHMETIC: A, SOCIAL STUDIES: A, SCIENCE: A, NEATNESS: A, PUNCTUALITY: A, PARTICIPATION: A, OBEDIENCE: DTeacher's Comments:Joseph remains a challenging student. While I appreciate his creativity, I am sure you will agree that a classroom is an inappropriate forum for a reckless imagination. There is not a shred of evidence to support his claim that Dolley Madison was a Lesbian, and even fewer grounds to explain why he even knows what the word means. Similarly, an analysis of the Constitutional Convention does not generate sufficient cause to initiate a two-hour classroom debate on what types of automobiles the Founding Fathers would have driven were they alive today. When asked on a subsequent examination, "What did Benjamin Franklin use to discover electricity?" eleven children responded "A Packard convertible". I trust you see my problem.[...]Janet HicksParent's Comments:As usual I am very proud of Joey's grades. I too was unaware that Dolley Madison was a Lesbian. I assumed they were all Protestants.Thank you for writing.Ida Margolis

As she gazed into the ball of confession,she questioned, “Who will I be in this profession?”Years of life have come to show she is the portrait of a woman we have grown to love and know. With her heart on her sleeve and the wit that shows, she has inspired them all with her intensity and glow. Not the ordinary woman who walks without purpose, she lives to share her vigor with the children who walk Earth’s surface.A special woman who has awakened their minds, she has created a class of comfort and pleasure without intensity from father time.For the knowledge and warmth she brings the children follow her with looks of admiration.With her critical thoughts and queries she has opened their minds without invitation.She’s not a preacher of her own thoughts,but rather one who supplies the knowledge,One who allows their visions to flourish without indifference or carnage.So as she gazes into theball of confession, she will no longer question…For she will be a special woman I must say one beyond her own comprehension.A woman full of progression and forever a Teacher that will leave a lasting impression…” ― Diana Lee Santamaria