I wrote this short story-poem about the last year that I taught at Mountain School 2018-2019. It was inspired by a parent who wrote a poem for his child in this format as a culmination project. I wrote about my memories at Stevens Creek Canyon County park near the Saratoga/Cupertino border. It’s a very natural setting with a creek and old shady oak trees. We spend 4 weeks there in the fall and then return to the same place in the spring. It’s one of the many places that we hold sacred at Mountain School.
*children’s names have been changed to protect their identity
A Day at Mountain School
By Teacher Carolyn
'Twas the night before Mountain School, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
Water bottle filled, first aid kit packed, with care,
In hopes that the families soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of acorns and oak trees danced in their heads;
Teacher Anne in her converse, Teacher Jutta in her ball cap,
Had just settled our brains for an after-school nap,
In the morning I arose with such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to listen to the weather and other TV chatter.
Away to the Mountains I flew like a flash,
Tore through the trails and picked up the trash.
The suns glow on the wide-open sky,
Gave a luster of morning to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature deer and eight tiny preschoolers,
With little Lucy so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be the T/TH threes class.
More rapid than eagles the children they came,
I giggled, and shouted, and called them name:
"Now, Abraham! now, Annie! now Patrick and Mandy!
On, Catie! on, Avery! on, Forest and Willa!
To the top of the Mountain! to the top of the trail!
Now climb! Now jump! Now play one and all!"
As leaves fell from the trees, and birds flew by,
Our eyes meet with an astonishing red-tailed hawk in the sky;
So up above the mountain tops the hawk flew
With a circle and a dip, then there were two—
And then, on an inkling, we looked to the ground
Following the thumping of a little brush rabbit on a mound.
As we drew in our heads, and were turning around,
Down the tree came a squirrel with a bound.
He was dressed all in brown fur, from his head to his foot,
His tail looked all decorated with stripes the color of soot;
A bundle of acorns he had hidden below a tree,
And he looked like a robber trying to get free.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his teeth, how merry!
His cheeks were like gumballs, his nose like a black cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the crest on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of an acorn he held tight in his teeth,
And the sunlight, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a fuzzy little tail
That flickered when he scolded and zig zagged up the trail.
Then I saw a snake, she was striped and plump, a right scary old reptile,
And I gasped when I saw her, in spite of myself;
A closer glimpse of her tail and a twist of her head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
We spoke not a word, but went straight to our field guide,
Filled with photos and facts; we turned the pages with a jerk,
laying a finger aside of the photos,
And giving a nod, Up, up, up our knowledge rose;
We sprang to parents, to the teaching team gave a whistle,
And near they all flew like the down of a thistle.
I heard a child exclaim, as the gopher snake dove out of sight—
“Happy to meet you Miss. Gopher, you look like a rattler but you don’t have rattle and your eyes are so round, your head so narrow, not like a rattler who is shaped like an arrow.”
Gopher head (narrow head) Rattler head (arrow or triangular shape head)
Taken at Stevens Creek Canyon
https://www.sccgov.org/sites/parks/parkfinder/Pages/StevensCreek.aspx