Cactus Language Training Blog - Cactus Tefl
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Cactustefl.com recognised as one of the ‘100 publications that most changed TEFL’
- Friday, 11th March, 2011
Cactus TEFL has been in existence for almost a decade now, and right from the start has offered a unique service to prospective and existing EFL teachers.
Our unbiased approach to advice and admissions, and our huge network of respected contacts within the TEFL industry helped us to produce a comprehensive, up to date and neutral website, which continues to attract a large number of visitors each week.
Whilst there are lots of TEFL related websites around today, when the site was first launched this was not the case and it was relatively hard for anyone interested in TEFL to find the information that they needed.
Our aim was always to provide visitors to the site with the facts to allow them to make an informed decision about whether TEFL is for them, and about the type of course that they should take. In addition, our course listings have provided practical help in comparing locations, start dates and prices. In this regard, our format was an early version of the price comparison sites that have become so popular today.
Over the years, thousands of would-be TEFLers have used the site as a resource to research TEFL and how to become qualified before making the decision to take a training course. Thousands more have gone a step further and used the site as a free admissions portal to apply for the TEFL course of their choice.
We’re delighted that the site has been recognised for its worth, and are happy that we have been able to help so many people begin their TEFL journey over the years.
To read the full listing of the top 100 publications that have changed TEFL, please visit the tefl.net website.
For more information on TEFL courses, and details of TEFL opportunities around the world, please visit www.cactustefl.com.
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Cactus-to-Conference update from Fiona James
- Wednesday, 10th November, 2010
“When Cactus contacted me recently I couldn’t believe that another six months had passed since writing my first reflections on what Iatefl had done for me and my teaching. I asked that they bear with me until after the weekend when I go to our little country place to the north of Cordoba in the south of Spain. It is here, where I write now, that I am most able to switch off from teaching and professional commitments and relax in the gorgeous rural surroundings with my family. Yet funnily enough, detached from the world and my day to day reality, this is the place where I often find myself generating my most creative ideas. I put this down to creating the distance between ourselves and our routine responsibilities, which allows us, or at least me to see things from a bird’s eye view as it were, from a new angle, with a fresh perspective, (something I touched on in my first article) – and that is precisely what I tell myself I should offer in this follow-up article.
Sadly many of the wonderful ideas I wanted to put into practice on my return have fallen through the sieve and only a handful, in comparison to those that impressed me, have found themselves sprinkled into the classroom. I am learning that it is impossible to put everything into practice and that the most important thing is to prioritize with what we consider to be key areas that can serve us and our students well, depending on where we and they are at any one time. Needless to say there is no shortage of teaching ideas available to us within a few clicks of a mouse or from colleagues, friends and mentors. I am having to learn to balance such an intense input of ideas in relation to the immediate demands of the individuals who have trusted in me to assist them in their learning of English. Neither have I accessed writings, as I intended to do, from some of those who I found truly inspiring at Iatefl – but there is time for everything and at the appropriate moment I know I will seek out what I need. What truly makes a lasting impression, I believe is never lost, only put on standby until the time is ripe.
Despite my relatively short teaching experience, I have a clear vision of one day becoming involved in teacher training. Before going to Iatefl, I debated a great deal on whether or not to submit a speaker proposal as I thought that organizing a workshop, which could be of any real interest to others, was somewhat premature, and could even be perceived as over-zealous, bordering on presumptuous by others who have been in the profession for much longer. (I am still wondering if this is a “reality” and whether interested people would really question this, or whether it is a distortion based on my own self-limiting views….) For me, it was a daunting idea to think that I could hope to offer anything of any value alongside the great names we are all familiar with at such a prestigious event.
However I was gratefully swayed in my final decision to go ahead by three very inspiring people: the first was Bonnie Tsai, whom I met at Pilgrims in 2009; she told me that that she considered that being a teacher trainer is more about having the right attitude, regardless of the number of years of experience, (by no means underestimating having the necessary requirements of knowledge and skills for such an important undertaking). The second person was Chaz Pugliese, whom I met for the first time a few years ago at ACEIA, the yearly Andalusian teacher conference in Seville. He told me that if I was really interested in becoming involved in teacher training, the best way to start was to offer myself to give in-service teacher training workshops at the places I work and to give workshops at conferences. Last but not least was my dear friend Sylvia Velikova, teacher and teacher trainer, whom I met on an NLP course at Pilgrims. Sylvia professed to seeing me as a teacher trainer in the making. So, bang on the deadline I sent off my proposal, which, to my surprise and added boost to my self-confidence, was accepted and even included in the TDSig special day agenda.
Well before the event I set about developing a workshop based on the theme of “The Power of Choice in the Classroom” and the whole process, prior to the event, was one of constant reflection, research and experimentation. The element of choice has since become one of the pillars of my teaching. Although the outcome of the speaker proposal was to deliver the workshop, the fact is that the stages leading up to the conference served a much greater purpose, namely that of self-reflection of my teaching practice, which continues to propel me forward to constantly question what I am doing as a teacher and how I can achieve the best possible outcome for my students, to fine-tune what works best and reassessing what doesn’t. My subsequent participation as a speaker at the conference served to make my first Iatefl experience even more unforgettable in many ways and indeed inspired me to offer further workshops in the future. I consider that even if only one person gained a new insight from my perspective, all the efforts were more than worth it, not to mention the enormous personal benefit and deepened insight I gained from the experience.
Moreover the process seems to have marked the beginning of a self-fulfilling prophecy of becoming a teacher trainer. I was recently approached by a small group of private schools to organize teacher training sessions with both their non-native teachers and their management team for this academic year. This outcome strengthens my belief that when we believe we can do something and work towards achieving our goal, providence moves with us. It is with this positive note that I would like to encourage you to believe and follow your dreams, to freely share your ideas with those around you, however trivial they may sometimes seem. We are all unique and we can all offer something of value, no matter how small we may appear to ourselves. But a word of caution - “Be careful about what you want, you might get it” (Emerson).”
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Cactus reveals the winner of the 2011 Cactus-to-Conference IATEFL Scholarship
- Monday, 8th November, 2010
Cactus is very pleased to announce that Camilla Heath is the lucky winner of the 2011 Cactus-to-Conference IATEFL Scholarship. Camilla’s scholarship entry was the clear winner out of the dozens submitted and she’ll now get the opportunity to attend the conference next year, become an IATEFL member and promote her teaching career.
The Cactus-to-Conference Scholarship was created in 2009 to enable one new EFL teacher the opportunity to become a member of IATEFL (the International Association of Teachers of English as a Foreign Language), and to attend the yearly conference. While all EFL teachers are eligible for IATEFL membership, in reality it’s not something that a newly qualified teacher can afford, so Cactus’ scholarship offers a unique opportunity to network and gain greater knowledge about the ELT profession.
Scholarship entrants this year were asked to draft a short article about their experiences of their best lesson. Camilla’s winning description of a particularly good day at work caught the judges’ attention and explained concisely the hugely rewarding aspects of the job.
My Best Lesson
My best lesson still makes me smile if I think about it: it is absolutely necessary to remember the good times in order to counteract the bad ones! At the end of the lesson, I smiled at my learners and the whole class – all thirty of them – grinned back at me: we had all learnt something during the 150-minute lesson.
I had decided to make a role-play game to get the whole class speaking English together. Every learner had received a character card from me with their new name on it and the details that they would need in order to find a partner in the class. I had organised the class so that the desks were in twos and facing each other. On my desk I had a bell which I would ring at regular intervals to get the learners to move seats if they had not found a partner and look for a new one using their personal character cards.
My learners are between 14 and 15 years old who all have artistic talent and are accepted into the school on the assumption that they will go on to do something creative in their lives. The school is a Co-Ed Montessori school in Amsterdam that was founded in the 1960’s and is unique in its approach to learners and education.
The class came into the ramshackle Portakabin room and sat at their desks, grumbling about the arrangement as they were all out of their comfort zones. On the desks were their cards that they all immediately picked up and started reading. The characters are all very varied in every respect from age to profession to likes or dislikes. Some of the learners asked me how they were supposed to get into a character who was 104 years old and blind or a five-year old. I said that if they met the right person, it would probably be automatic. I explained the ‘speed-dating’ idea and gave them two minutes to sit at a table and talk to the person opposite to see if there was a match or not.
After ringing the bell to signal the swapping around of learners, I realised two things. Everyone one of the children was speaking animated English – trying to find their partner – and that some of the learners had already paired up. I interviewed the already formed couples and asked them why they liked each other so much. The answers that came back were varied: liking the same food was important or having the same pastimes but mainly because they literally spoke the same language – they communicated enough to be able to find out about each other.
At the end of the lesson, we talked about what had worked. The learners said that they enjoyed being able to use the language that they already had learned and I saw the one thing that they really wanted to do – socially interact.
If you are interested in being considered for future Cactus-to-Conference Scholarships, please find more information here: http://www.iatefl.org/scholarships/cactus-to-conference
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Cactus announces winner of 2010 Suzanne Furstner Foundation Scholarship
- Tuesday, 2nd November, 2010
Introduced in 2007 in memory of a friend and colleague who was tragically lost in a road accident, the Suzanne Furstner Foundation supports language and educational training across the world. Every year since its introduction, the foundation has funded a scholarship enabling one budding TEFL teacher to take a training course to help them on their way.
The TEFL course has been offered in a different place each year - firstly in Spain, then in Mexico, last year in Italy and this year in fantastic San Francisco.
All scholarship applicants are assigned a task, involving both a language awareness exercise and some creative writing based around the TEFL course destination. This year, the standard of entries was as high as ever, and Simon fought off some stiff competition to take the top spot. His piece was not only original, it was also interesting, funny and engaging. We are sure that his linguistic creativity will help him become a fine TEFL teacher, and wish him luck with his CELTA course in San Francisco.
Congratulations Simon!
Here is his winning entry in full for you to enjoy.
San Francisco - A Flyway
“Only one is a wanderer. Two together are always going somewhere.”; Not an endorsement for bilingualism, but a voice reverberating around a council house living room in West Suffolk. A nine year old boy watches a woman, on a knackered eighties model television, confess her love on a San Franciscan street in Alfred Hitchock’s Vertigo. I’d been aware of San Francisco from a young age for a few reasons, in part due to my mother who was an ex-hippie, then living what she now refers to as a “conformed life” (she now resides in a mobile home in Norfolk). She’d often muse about being a little older so she could have been there in San Francisco during the Summer of Love. Then there was my Grandmother, a force of nature that would pass through our home regularly, often talking about her “women’s problems” - how she was constantly hot because the birth of my mother had forever altered her blood flow, and how ever since her menopause she’d been even hotter. A doctor had told her that the cool, sunny San Franciscan climate would be perfect for her condition, especially during the foggy summers; “No more sweat’n over noth’n” she’d say in a broad East Anglian accent. Then there was my Great Grandmother, who used to make us watch these old films in the first place, especially the detective ones. Two of her favourites - The Maltese Falcon and Vertigo both acquainted me with Golden Gate City. She’d routinely have an afternoon sherry or three, doze off and leave me and my brother in the company of Sam Spade as he chased crooks around the Bay Area. Four generations under one roof, every Sunday. Perhaps it was these early screen impressions, the white streets and cable cars, or later interests in counterculture and San Fran Beat poetry that fuelled my wanderlust for California. More likely, was that the West coast sunshine and salty air of the Pacific seemed, and still does, like the antidote to low grey skies, English cynicism and the monotony of working class life. I’m perfectly aware this is probably an invented hyperreality. I’m also conscious of the fact the grass isn’t always greener, and that the voyage to enlightenment is internal, I Ching and so forth - I don’t care, I want to fly.
My relationship with language is more experiential and personal. I was born in Puglia, Italy to a very young English mother and an Italian father. After an illicit but passionate romance between the two of them that ended with the same posthaste and irrationality with which it began, I was back in England with my mother. I saw my father sporadically, and our early time spent was tender if not rather comical. I didn’t speak Italian, as my mother refused to teach me on principle, and although a man of good nature, my father was a labourer from south Italy - languages were not his strong point. Our quiet time together was filled with physical gestures and decipherment, not dissimilar to silent-era Laurel and Hardy sketches. Although I gradually began to understand the regular questions; “Inglese mangiano questo?” (English people eat that?), “Quando viene in Italia?” (When are you coming to Italy?), and “Chi era quell’uomo a casa?” (Who was that man at your Mum’s house?) it was thanks to the later summers spent in Italy with my colossal paternal family that I learnt Italian. I remember all the phases of learning vividly, especially the early impatience and frustration of not being able to express myself coherently - particularly to my father, for whom I had so many questions. (Fret not prospective pupil, for the routine banging of one’s head in vexation upon hard surfaces is not an action this TEFL teacher is unaccustomed to.) Yet after nine years of seasonal holidays, I was finally able to confidently speak Italian. Thereafter I spent more time with the people and the Adriatic region I love. By which time ironically, the questions I had always wanted to ask my father had lost importance. Learning Italian taught me the unifying potential of language, and its ability to open up new worlds.
I was on a knee-crushing economy flight back from Puglia last summer when I was seated next to a Lecturer from the Università di Bari. We exchanged pleasantries before, seeing as I’m English, the inevitable topic of language arose. The gentleman expounded enthusiastically on the importance of French philosopher Jaques Lacan - He rhapsodised on Lacan’s theory that language was our world, how it dictated our thoughts and actions fundamentally and how the two axes of language; substation and displacement - correspond to the working of the unconscious; “It is the world of words that creates the world of things”. What I found most fascinatingwas the idea that when we have feelings or thoughts that are indescribable linguistically, it’s because we have transcended these mental barriers. When learning Italian, what struck me the most was the words and phrases that didn’t have a precise English translation - I couldn’t truly capture what I wanted to express. More interestingly, was the fact I was able to understand these expressions in Italian to begin with. So here’s my own theory; if by learning another language, one can think in another language and adopt more dimensions of expression, thereby dissolving more of these mental barriers semiotically, then one can expand the understanding of one’s own mind and one’s own reality. I find the idea of being a part of such a process by teaching a language to someone indescribable. (Pompous theorising over)
What is describable is my current situation. I’m approaching twenty-five and my feet are itching. University is over, I’m flat broke, and I’m standing at a fork in the road. So like my Nonna Lucia used to say while watching the indigenti from her balcony; “If you don’t have money in your pocket, you better have honey in your mouth.” Hopefully my words here have been sweet enough. A TEFL course could certainly make them sweeter, and provide enough nectar for those I teach to make their words sweeter still. Brazen desire and optimism maybe all I have to offer, but I am ready. Like the the Shorebirds that migrate to the Sacramento Valley and tidal marshes of San Francisco every autumn, I want to fly, if only for a month, to the City By The Bay. To quote a great San Franciscan poet;
Say it, say a new joy,
a fresh start, a new body.
Longing in the heart
too stark
to be denied! -
Suzanne Furstner Foundation Scholarship 2010: Shortlisted Entry Number 5
- Monday, 25th October, 2010
Applicants who wanted to apply for the scholarship, which comprises a four-week TEFL course in San Francisco plus a language course, were asked to write a maximum of 1,000 words on the topic ‘San Francisco’, interpreted any way they choose.
The entries were assessed according to the quality of the writing, the relevance to the theme and the accuracy and variety of the language.
You can read Teresa’s entry in full below.
San Francisco - Five Days to a Perfect View
Day 1: Ina Coolbrith Park
On my first day in San Francisco, Tree recommends that I take the trolley so I can look around. After a thrill ride through town, I wander up the steep streets to find Ina Coolbrith Park. The walk is hard, but I’m convinced the view is going to be perfect. I stop once to ask for directions—in English. The gardens up this way are beautiful. I see a cluster of trees ahead and know I have found the spot. I find a secluded spot and plop down to breathe. The sun peaks through the trees and I shield my eyes to see my surroundings better on my surroundings. I can see the bay around between the trees, so I move toward them to see if I can see around them, but a house blocks my sight. I walk further farther down and try different angles, but my view I still can’t see. I look at my watch. I am supposed to meet Tree for dinner, but I’m already exhausted. I have to head back.
Day 2: AlcatrazI sleep in late today. I think I pushed myself too hard yesterday. I decide no to climb any more hills.
I decide I to go to Alcatraz: it is a big tourist spot I think it will have a good view of the city. And I won’t have to walk a lot.
At the dock, the clerk tells me the next boat ride I can buy a ticket for is in one hour. I walk around and get some snacks for the trip over—and some motion sickness pills.
On the boat, I stand on the deck freezing. The harbor is beautiful. Alcatraz looks scary but also peaceful. I see purple flowers on the shore. The trip is not long and I’m glad for that. I unzip my jacket and follow the others into the building.
I take the tour in English. I have some difficulty understanding, but I decide to just move on and look around when I get lost. I learned about some interesting escapes. What’s a bootlegger?
Day 3: The Presidio
There is too so much to see that I have a hard time deciding what to do. I find a wooded path through the park that leads to the water. It is nice to have this in the city. I take a walk onto Yacht Road and listen to the Wave Organ play the music of the ocean. I listen for so long that I actually fall asleep.
I move through Crissy Field, where I have a great view of the Golden Gate Bridge. It is amazing. I really like this place.
I wander back to town and meet Tree in an area called Cow Hollow for dinner.
“I heard the park is beautiful. I want to check it out this weekend,” she says.
“It was very nice. There is a lot of trees,” I reply.
“There are a lot of trees.” she corrects me. I repeat after her, the way she always encourages me to do.
“Did you walk over the bridge?”
“No! I am...what are you say...?”
“How do you say. Scared?” Tree always helps me find the words I’m looking for.
“Scared, but a different word.”
Tree always has paper in her bag. She writes down other words: afraid, worried, frightened, terrified…
“Terrified! I am terrified to try.”
Tree laughs, “Are you afraid of heights?”
I nod a lot.
“Okay. Maybe we can go across together this weekend. Would that be okay? We can take a taxi over first and come back on foot if you are feeling brave.”
“On foot? What mean you?”
Tree explains that on foot means walking, and corrects me again.
We make plans to visit the Exploratorium this weekend and then to cross the Golden Gate Bridge. I’m still a little terrified.
Day 4: Lincoln Park
This is my favorite so far. There aren’t a lot of tourist attractions here, but I can wander through this jungle all day. I am glad I packed snacks. I take the coastal path. I’ve heard that there are two shipwrecks that can be seen, but I do not find them. This area feels so alive I cannot help to feeling energized. The wind zips through the trees and my hair. Though it is chilly in the shade, the sun is warm. I spend hours here, wandering and stopping to take in the horizon whenever there is an opportunity.
This place is perfect.
Day 5: Golden Gate Park
Tree is going to meet me at the Japanese Tea Garden after class today. My legs are hurt sore from all of the walking I did yesterday. I decide to relax and take a tour of the botanical gardens. The gardens are very nice, but I wonder why they call it the Golden Gate Park when I cannot see the bridge. The guide explains me to me that Golden Gate is a nickname of California, not just the name of the Golden Gate Bridge.
After the tour, I go to the de Young museum. In the African art collection, a museum volunteer asks me if I have seen the view from the observation deck. He gives me directions and I get to see another amazing view from up here.
In the Japanese Tea Garden, Tree and I discuss our weeks. Tree tells me how excited she is to start teaching me what she has learned from her CELTA classes. I tell her that I did not find the best view of the city, because I like them all.
I also tell her that I am ready to walk over the Golden Gate Bridge tomorrow.
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Suzanne Furstner Foundation Scholarship 2010: Shortlisted Entry Number 4
- Monday, 25th October, 2010
Applicants who wanted to apply for the scholarship, which comprises a four-week TEFL course in San Francisco plus a language course, were asked to write a maximum of 1,000 words on the topic ‘San Francisco’, interpreted any way they choose.
The entries were assessed according to the quality of the writing, the relevance to the theme and the accuracy and variety of the language.
You can read Simon’s entry in full below.
San Francisco - A Flyway
“Only one is a wanderer. Two together are always going somewhere.”; Not an endorsement for bilingualism, but a voice reverberating around a council house living room in West Suffolk. A nine year old boy watches a woman, on a knackered eighties model television, confess her love on a San Franciscan street in Alfred Hitchock’s Vertigo. I’d been aware of San Francisco from a young age for a few reasons, in part due to my mother who was an ex-hippie, then living what she now refers to as a “conformed life” (she now resides in a mobile home in Norfolk). She’d often muse about being a little older so she could have been there in San Francisco during the Summer of Love. Then there was my Grandmother, a force of nature that would pass through our home regularly, often talking about her “women’s problems” - how she was constantly hot because the birth of my mother had forever altered her blood flow, and how ever since her menopause she’d been even hotter. A doctor had told her that the cool, sunny San Franciscan climate would be perfect for her condition, especially during the foggy summers; “No more sweat’n over noth’n” she’d say in a broad East Anglian accent. Then there was my Great Grandmother, who used to make us watch these old films in the first place, especially the detective ones. Two of her favourites - The Maltese Falcon and Vertigo both acquainted me with Golden Gate City. She’d routinely have an afternoon sherry or three, doze off and leave me and my brother in the company of Sam Spade as he chased crooks around the Bay Area. Four generations under one roof, every Sunday. Perhaps it was these early screen impressions, the white streets and cable cars, or later interests in counterculture and San Fran Beat poetry that fuelled my wanderlust for California. More likely, was that the West coast sunshine and salty air of the Pacific seemed, and still does, like the antidote to low grey skies, English cynicism and the monotony of working class life. I’m perfectly aware this is probably an invented hyperreality. I’m also conscious of the fact the grass isn’t always greener, and that the voyage to enlightenment is internal, I Ching and so forth - I don’t care, I want to fly.
My relationship with language is more experiential and personal. I was born in Puglia, Italy to a very young English mother and an Italian father. After an illicit but passionate romance between the two of them that ended with the same posthaste and irrationality with which it began, I was back in England with my mother. I saw my father sporadically, and our early time spent was tender if not rather comical. I didn’t speak Italian, as my mother refused to teach me on principle, and although a man of good nature, my father was a labourer from south Italy - languages were not his strong point. Our quiet time together was filled with physical gestures and decipherment, not dissimilar to silent-era Laurel and Hardy sketches. Although I gradually began to understand the regular questions; “Inglese mangiano questo?” (English people eat that?), “Quando viene in Italia?” (When are you coming to Italy?), and “Chi era quell’uomo a casa?” (Who was that man at your Mum’s house?) it was thanks to the later summers spent in Italy with my colossal paternal family that I learnt Italian. I remember all the phases of learning vividly, especially the early impatience and frustration of not being able to express myself coherently - particularly to my father, for whom I had so many questions. (Fret not prospective pupil, for the routine banging of one’s head in vexation upon hard surfaces is not an action this TEFL teacher is unaccustomed to.) Yet after nine years of seasonal holidays, I was finally able to confidently speak Italian. Thereafter I spent more time with the people and the Adriatic region I love. By which time ironically, the questions I had always wanted to ask my father had lost importance. Learning Italian taught me the unifying potential of language, and its ability to open up new worlds.
I was on a knee-crushing economy flight back from Puglia last summer when I was seated next to a Lecturer from the Università di Bari. We exchanged pleasantries before, seeing as I’m English, the inevitable topic of language arose. The gentleman expounded enthusiastically on the importance of French philosopher Jaques Lacan - He rhapsodised on Lacan’s theory that language was our world, how it dictated our thoughts and actions fundamentally and how the two axes of language; substation and displacement - correspond to the working of the unconscious; “It is the world of words that creates the world of things”. What I found most fascinatingwas the idea that when we have feelings or thoughts that are indescribable linguistically, it’s because we have transcended these mental barriers. When learning Italian, what struck me the most was the words and phrases that didn’t have a precise English translation - I couldn’t truly capture what I wanted to express. More interestingly, was the fact I was able to understand these expressions in Italian to begin with. So here’s my own theory; if by learning another language, one can think in another language and adopt more dimensions of expression, thereby dissolving more of these mental barriers semiotically, then one can expand the understanding of one’s own mind and one’s own reality. I find the idea of being a part of such a process by teaching a language to someone indescribable. (Pompous theorising over)
What is describable is my current situation. I’m approaching twenty-five and my feet are itching. University is over, I’m flat broke, and I’m standing at a fork in the road. So like my Nonna Lucia used to say while watching the indigenti from her balcony; “If you don’t have money in your pocket, you better have honey in your mouth.” Hopefully my words here have been sweet enough. A TEFL course could certainly make them sweeter, and provide enough nectar for those I teach to make their words sweeter still. Brazen desire and optimism maybe all I have to offer, but I am ready. Like the the Shorebirds that migrate to the Sacramento Valley and tidal marshes of San Francisco every autumn, I want to fly, if only for a month, to the City By The Bay. To quote a great San Franciscan poet;Say it, say a new joy,
a fresh start, a new body.
Longing in the heart
too stark
to be denied!
