I think a lot about neurodivergence and how hard this is for teachers (and, of course, students). I have a daughter who struggled through school and was in special ed until she took herself out in high school, but went on to get her master's and become a teacher herself. I have a grandson with autism (he's brilliant), and I have been told I am neurodivergent myself. The women you wrote about are heroes in my book. Interesting, I was thinking about trees five minutes before I opened my laptop this morning. I saw a photograph of the most beautiful 200-year-old oak tree in Europe. If you ask anyone who knows me to name the things I love most, TREES is at the top of the list. I read the other day that J.R.R. Tolkien also held them at the utmost highest of his own list of loves, and that's why the Ents appear in TLOTR. Walking, talking trees! They do communicate, that we know. There is so much in this piece that I loved, Ilona.
Linda, the fact that you were thinking about trees five minutes before you opened this is exactly the kind of thing that makes me believe the right words find the right people at the right moment. I have been hearing about the coincidences related to this piece from at least three people so far.
Your daughter's story moves me — she struggled through a system that wasn't built for her, and then turned around and became a teacher herself. That's its own kind of rebellion.
And Tolkien and the Ents — of course. He understood that trees are the oldest witnesses, the ones who remember everything. They do communicate. They hold the structure even in winter. Thank you for bringing all of this to the piece — you made it bigger. ❤️
Ilona Goanos (with the pebble) and Linda Hoenigsberg: Neurodivergence is prominent in my family, with four of my beautiful, fully loved Grandkids.
There is a wonderful French series, "Astrid," with the beautiful Sarah Mortensen as a neurodivergent, brilliant criminal investigator.
I have learned, despite childhood reactions in the 1950s, neurodivergent persons can be very expressive and intellectually gifted.
Regardless, each person is a gift.
The tree poem does bring tears even to an old, cynical, jaded lawyer, Armando.
The two paintings, to me, are beautiful, with the second painting evocative of faces for me, like the beauty in clouds.
The art pieces are wondrous.
I am really glad that Ms. Hoenigsberg's Daughter succeeded the hard struggle.
One neurodivergent grandson knows himself at 22 far better than do most men at 40. This young man, with my other grandkids, is beautiful, and each fills my heart.
Ms. Hoenigsberg shares experience with me in love and support of a neurodivergent child. Ms. Hoenigsberg: Your daughter's self-worth and tremendous progress are a testament both to her own inner strength and goodness and YOUR LOVE.
On the Gulf Coast of Mississippi, an hour east of New Orleans, on a college campus stands the Friendship Oak, which was a seedling during Columbus' October 1492 ocean voyage.
Armando, Joyce Kilmer making a cynical lawyer cry is possibly the highest compliment this essay could receive. And the Friendship Oak — a seedling during Columbus' voyage, still standing — that's exactly what this piece is about. Some things take root and outlast everything we think matters. Your grandchildren are lucky to have someone who sees each of them so clearly. As are we.
I was a little distracted in the beginning. I couldn't catch the connections and was reading but not understanding. However, it was engaging enough, I kept on going. Soon I began to get the picture. I'm better for having read it! There is a Japanese Maple outside across the street from my living room window. When I first got here 16 and a half years ago, I hardly noticed it. Then I sort of noticed it lost it leaves and then they came back. Then I noticed exactly when the leaves started dropping, and the buds started popping. Then I figured that the climate issues were swerving it because one year the process happened half a month later. This year I looked forward to its barrenness so I could see farther in the distance. The buds returned even more quickly this year. It's funny what details catch up when they do! Thank you for writing about these wonderful women who took seriously the creative impetus in many who don't get nourished or encouraged often enough when that which is drastic and necessary grasps our energy and yanks our neck, constantly.
Lisa, thank you for staying with it past the distraction — that honesty means more than you know. And your Japanese Maple. Sixteen years of learning to see one tree more clearly each year, until this winter you actually looked forward to its barrenness so you could see farther. That's the whole essay right there, in a window across the street. You didn't need Miss France or Patricia or Jenny — you taught yourself. "That which is drastic and necessary grasps our energy and yanks our neck." I'm stealing that. With credit.
I have so many things to say about this beautiful piece of writing and I’m amazed at its timing. Just yesterday while waiting for a train a lovely lady named Laura came up to me and asked if she could share my bench. Naturally, we struck up a warm conversation and she turned out to be a 77 year-old retired teacher. She stays incredibly active by teaching multiple mindfulness classes each day at an elementary school, all unpaid. Then, in the evening she teaches seniors mindfulness. We were geeking out with our fan girling over various thought leaders in the mindfulness world.
I asked her how she replenishes herself with so much energy devoted to helping others, and she said “this” meaning her walks and then the conversation we were having.
She had retired at age 69 and definitely made an imprint on her school. I knew of a famous person whose children attended her school, and she had indeed taught them and shared her reminiscences about how engaging and kind the famous parents were. I said they were lucky to have had her teaching their children. Thankfully, they knew that.
It was one of those Hallmark movie moments that were so reciprocal and filled with goodwill. She said that while getting older you can be “different” and we were really vibing on how much generativity still keeps morphing and evolving. She is a mission driven person committed to helping the world one person at a time.
I asked her about her family and she had four grown children all in different areas of the country. We reflected on the seasons and how lucky we are to have all four of them where we live and then she said that winter allows us to see “the structure of the trees” and I loved how she appreciated what some people consider barren and gloomy, leafless trees, when she found them beautiful and interesting. To me, that spoke to the spaciousness of her heart in mind.
You honor all women when you speak the name of Mrs. Gallucci. I know I will be speaking your name for my lifetime.
Tara, I had to read this twice and then sit with it. Laura on that bench was your Patricia — and you were wise enough to recognize her. "The structure of the trees." After everything I wrote about Miss France and Joyce Kilmer, I got chills. Winter strips everything back so we can finally see what's holding it all up. Maybe that's what our third chapter does too. And your last line — I'll be carrying that for a very long time. Thank you for being exactly the kind of reader who makes this worth writing.❤️
I love that you're writing as a way to support and inspire us to see LIFE in your words, just as it's possible to experience it through poetry, art, dance, music etc. I too had a teacher in grade 1 who inspired me through music and for my last 2 years of high school I went into a fine arts program where I was encouraged not only to play the piano but to dance and create art - it didn't matter that I wasn't great at art or dance - it was about the experience. And now in midlife I feel I've created something useful but creative in Tap and Write and it's my way of supporting others to experience life more fully. Thank you for posting and sharing the story of these women!
I think a lot about neurodivergence and how hard this is for teachers (and, of course, students). I have a daughter who struggled through school and was in special ed until she took herself out in high school, but went on to get her master's and become a teacher herself. I have a grandson with autism (he's brilliant), and I have been told I am neurodivergent myself. The women you wrote about are heroes in my book. Interesting, I was thinking about trees five minutes before I opened my laptop this morning. I saw a photograph of the most beautiful 200-year-old oak tree in Europe. If you ask anyone who knows me to name the things I love most, TREES is at the top of the list. I read the other day that J.R.R. Tolkien also held them at the utmost highest of his own list of loves, and that's why the Ents appear in TLOTR. Walking, talking trees! They do communicate, that we know. There is so much in this piece that I loved, Ilona.
Linda, the fact that you were thinking about trees five minutes before you opened this is exactly the kind of thing that makes me believe the right words find the right people at the right moment. I have been hearing about the coincidences related to this piece from at least three people so far.
Your daughter's story moves me — she struggled through a system that wasn't built for her, and then turned around and became a teacher herself. That's its own kind of rebellion.
And Tolkien and the Ents — of course. He understood that trees are the oldest witnesses, the ones who remember everything. They do communicate. They hold the structure even in winter. Thank you for bringing all of this to the piece — you made it bigger. ❤️
Ilona Goanos (with the pebble) and Linda Hoenigsberg: Neurodivergence is prominent in my family, with four of my beautiful, fully loved Grandkids.
There is a wonderful French series, "Astrid," with the beautiful Sarah Mortensen as a neurodivergent, brilliant criminal investigator.
I have learned, despite childhood reactions in the 1950s, neurodivergent persons can be very expressive and intellectually gifted.
Regardless, each person is a gift.
The tree poem does bring tears even to an old, cynical, jaded lawyer, Armando.
The two paintings, to me, are beautiful, with the second painting evocative of faces for me, like the beauty in clouds.
The art pieces are wondrous.
I am really glad that Ms. Hoenigsberg's Daughter succeeded the hard struggle.
One neurodivergent grandson knows himself at 22 far better than do most men at 40. This young man, with my other grandkids, is beautiful, and each fills my heart.
Ms. Hoenigsberg shares experience with me in love and support of a neurodivergent child. Ms. Hoenigsberg: Your daughter's self-worth and tremendous progress are a testament both to her own inner strength and goodness and YOUR LOVE.
On the Gulf Coast of Mississippi, an hour east of New Orleans, on a college campus stands the Friendship Oak, which was a seedling during Columbus' October 1492 ocean voyage.
God bless Ilona Goanos and Linda Hoenigsberg!
Armando, Joyce Kilmer making a cynical lawyer cry is possibly the highest compliment this essay could receive. And the Friendship Oak — a seedling during Columbus' voyage, still standing — that's exactly what this piece is about. Some things take root and outlast everything we think matters. Your grandchildren are lucky to have someone who sees each of them so clearly. As are we.
I was a little distracted in the beginning. I couldn't catch the connections and was reading but not understanding. However, it was engaging enough, I kept on going. Soon I began to get the picture. I'm better for having read it! There is a Japanese Maple outside across the street from my living room window. When I first got here 16 and a half years ago, I hardly noticed it. Then I sort of noticed it lost it leaves and then they came back. Then I noticed exactly when the leaves started dropping, and the buds started popping. Then I figured that the climate issues were swerving it because one year the process happened half a month later. This year I looked forward to its barrenness so I could see farther in the distance. The buds returned even more quickly this year. It's funny what details catch up when they do! Thank you for writing about these wonderful women who took seriously the creative impetus in many who don't get nourished or encouraged often enough when that which is drastic and necessary grasps our energy and yanks our neck, constantly.
Lisa, thank you for staying with it past the distraction — that honesty means more than you know. And your Japanese Maple. Sixteen years of learning to see one tree more clearly each year, until this winter you actually looked forward to its barrenness so you could see farther. That's the whole essay right there, in a window across the street. You didn't need Miss France or Patricia or Jenny — you taught yourself. "That which is drastic and necessary grasps our energy and yanks our neck." I'm stealing that. With credit.
I'm tickled at your response. Thank you!
I have so many things to say about this beautiful piece of writing and I’m amazed at its timing. Just yesterday while waiting for a train a lovely lady named Laura came up to me and asked if she could share my bench. Naturally, we struck up a warm conversation and she turned out to be a 77 year-old retired teacher. She stays incredibly active by teaching multiple mindfulness classes each day at an elementary school, all unpaid. Then, in the evening she teaches seniors mindfulness. We were geeking out with our fan girling over various thought leaders in the mindfulness world.
I asked her how she replenishes herself with so much energy devoted to helping others, and she said “this” meaning her walks and then the conversation we were having.
She had retired at age 69 and definitely made an imprint on her school. I knew of a famous person whose children attended her school, and she had indeed taught them and shared her reminiscences about how engaging and kind the famous parents were. I said they were lucky to have had her teaching their children. Thankfully, they knew that.
It was one of those Hallmark movie moments that were so reciprocal and filled with goodwill. She said that while getting older you can be “different” and we were really vibing on how much generativity still keeps morphing and evolving. She is a mission driven person committed to helping the world one person at a time.
I asked her about her family and she had four grown children all in different areas of the country. We reflected on the seasons and how lucky we are to have all four of them where we live and then she said that winter allows us to see “the structure of the trees” and I loved how she appreciated what some people consider barren and gloomy, leafless trees, when she found them beautiful and interesting. To me, that spoke to the spaciousness of her heart in mind.
You honor all women when you speak the name of Mrs. Gallucci. I know I will be speaking your name for my lifetime.
Tara, I had to read this twice and then sit with it. Laura on that bench was your Patricia — and you were wise enough to recognize her. "The structure of the trees." After everything I wrote about Miss France and Joyce Kilmer, I got chills. Winter strips everything back so we can finally see what's holding it all up. Maybe that's what our third chapter does too. And your last line — I'll be carrying that for a very long time. Thank you for being exactly the kind of reader who makes this worth writing.❤️
I love that you're writing as a way to support and inspire us to see LIFE in your words, just as it's possible to experience it through poetry, art, dance, music etc. I too had a teacher in grade 1 who inspired me through music and for my last 2 years of high school I went into a fine arts program where I was encouraged not only to play the piano but to dance and create art - it didn't matter that I wasn't great at art or dance - it was about the experience. And now in midlife I feel I've created something useful but creative in Tap and Write and it's my way of supporting others to experience life more fully. Thank you for posting and sharing the story of these women!
Bravo!