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...so they say...
||May 17, 2008
||Friday, August 31, 2012 (01:54:14)
||High school math teacher
||Martial Arts, Writing, Scrabble
||Today is a gift. That's why they call it the present.
||Victoria Rivas has been a math teacher for three years. She always wanted to teach but somehow got detoured for 25 years programming computers.
She is also poetry addict who now uses her students and job for inspiration. Victoria has featured around CT and NY for the past 15 years, including the Bethel Arts Junction, The Buttonwood Tree, Kafe International, Klekolo World Coffee, and many other CT venues as well as The Knitting Factory in NYC.
Her poetry has been published in many journals including Bogg, The Underwood Review, Big Hammer, Connecticut River Review, Caprice, Common Ground Review, Brouhaha, and the Journal of Asian Martial Arts. It has also been included in two anthologies, Working Hard for the Money from Bottom Dog Press and Along the Lake edited by Sean Thomas Dougherty. She has one chapbook Doing Laundry, and is working on a new book, Yo Miss! I Need a Pencil which includes poetry and prose.
Victoria was on the board of directors for the The 8th Annual National Poetry Slam Championship & 1997 Connecticut Poetry Festival, and the 2001 and 2003 Connecticut Poetry Festivals. She was also an alternate on the 1998 CT Slam Team.
Her press, Ye Olde Font Shoppe, specializes in Connecticut poets and the new generation of beat poets. She hopes to someday support herself with the profits from the press, but then she also thinks world peace is possible.
P.S. That's my real classroom in the background of my Simpsonized pic...
GarbageJoe pulls me out into the hall, says,
A quiet Bethany is a good
Bethany, even if she does no
work, glares at me, refuses to work.
Joe escorts Jesus Alvarado,
sits next to him, orders him to write.
I ask who he is. Joe says, I take
care of the garbage here. I respond
simply that these are children. To me,
they count, have voices that should be heard.
It is not best when they are quiet,
when their lives are tossed out as garbage.
* * * * *
In 2005, I was 51 years old and decided to change careers from computer programmer to math teacher. My first year teaching -- remedial math at an inner city middle school -- I decided to write a poem per week to keep my sanity. I kept 90% of the poems and worked on them for the next year. Week 1 went into the circular file. This is Week 2. Rate this Poem
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