Learning at the Library » Recreation

Balance and Momentum: Spring Education Program

Jennifer Govan — Fri, 17 May 2013 17:57:52 +0000

Pedaling is the way a cyclist goes forward,

maybe for châteaux,

grey road ribboning vineyards green

in a Loire Valley August,

or for sweaters,

woolly spin down

the salt-slippery strip

into Aber town,

or for work,

up past the North Woods

on that crazy-cold NYC day,

hands like birds frozen in flight.

We provide points of attachment,

not unlike a bike frame,

core for all components.

Book talks spin delicious themes -

pro-disabilities (à la feministe),

consulting (for the professionalist),

spearheading debate in South African culture,

questioning class in Asia-America,

tapping talent in our workers,

holding youth at the borders,

pondering classic education theories,

democratizing science,

so that in Jhumki’s prayers

bats are no longer misunderstood.

Habits, love, America’s direction,

exits or endings, creative aging in our population

reflect new parts of the Gottesman collection.

Tomes fresh, e-books flutter, words on wings -

floats the question, a feather.

Pushing from feet, to heart and mind,

gears shift, socratically, Ron to Natalie.

Child abuse, prison-to-pipeline,

we advocate before the brake

that slows our circles down

in sultry urban weather.

Educators speak in splendid cycle.

Turn, HBS, C&T, on revolving topics-

aging, health psychology,

literacy, inclusivity,

queerness, teacher visions!

Bold on gender, FERA whirls

the wheel, Youtube is our university.

Twirl on, Harlem, with CUNY, historical illiteracy,

while leadership, health, psychology, education

shine the spokes for our anniversary.

Colectomy rings a curious bell,

minimally invasive, just as

front lights fall

on drugs or Yod.

We round the corner with a nod,

chain linking the news -

a 125 day display,

commemorates our history.

We tribute Caesar,

Joan, Amanda Smith,

Poe, F. Scott, Walt, AG Bell.

In black and white posters tell

of boy scouts, tax, women’s rights,

Spanish Florida, April Fools,

history of the bicycle,

built for many.

Mounting Brooklyn Bridge,

we dream the journey, our

helmets snug like sky blue beetles

peering down the East River deep.

Its cables are designed like spider’s silk,

casting comfort in our saddle -

bluegrass, world, jazz, folk, classical –

students lively webbing.

Left on tours, right on workshops,

steers more learning - citation,

stress busting, metasearch,

happily riding in our city.

Now keeping good pace,

laud the delightful database -

apps, women’s innovation,

child abuse prevention -

and tune our vehicle, heading

toward tomorrow’s education.

Upright and moving,

May brings National Bike Month,

just a Schwinn away from summer.

Spring 2013 Education Program


	Offerings	Attendees
Socratic Conversations	7	118
Book Talks	8	110
Guest Talks	16	478
Films	3	69
Instructional	17	96
News Displays	22	n/a
Live Music	14	n/a
Total	87	871

“…In the Woods…”

Jennifer Govan — Tue, 01 Mar 2011 15:04:17 +0000

The train deposits us in the middle of the track – no station stop, rails glisten in the mid-morning sun of early October. We alight, gingerly stepping through the long ladder of metal, breathing in the coolness of soil, happy to flee the city noise and soot. We trek to the rocks and begin our steep ascent…

… the trees are marked sporadically, red paint crumbling across the old bark. The trail is none too clear, very overgrown, even bog-like in some spots. Sunlight filters through the tall elms, casting nets on the ground, while the wind echoes a maraca, so strong the shaking above. Failing to find the next marker, our boots soggy, we circle through colorful leaves piled high like shoal fish flickering in the Hudson.

Caught in the beauty, lost in the woods… wondering why we took that path and how we’ll get back, we slowly finish our sandwiches as the sun sinks like a pomegranate from the branches.

Referencing Our Film Screening In the Woods, Wednesday, 2/16

Stolen Bikes

Jennifer Govan — Wed, 16 Feb 2011 17:57:41 +0000

I gaze high up at the brightly lit stage, feeling lost in the large musty space. Within an instant I recognize three familiar banana seats – one of them a girl’s– only it is crusted over with thick, bruised blue paint, not light sparkling yellow as before. My brothers’ bikes are quickly wheeled in by police officers, right beside mine; they are more scuffed up than usual – as if someone has stomped on them, or thrown them recklessly into the back of a big truck. Unsure of their exact path, I imagine our vehicles being gathered, but feel sickened, and somehow fail to equate law enforcement.

My mother’s suspicious words haunt me; traveling from our basement locker to the Chicago pound, the bicycles are right where she anticipated — now at public auction, along with dozens of others belonging to any number of anonymous kids. Figures are called off loudly, but dumbfounded, I can barely make out the garbled amounts. My parents are silent and frowning, as we are wheeled around, shepherded into our father’s arms, and steered towards the dismal exit.

Banana seats are all the rage — the high handlebars, extra long seats and cushioning, flower power designs and psychedelic swirls, are bliss. I recall how my parents saved up for them in time for the Spring, the joy of racing half-way down the block to the beach, my brothers dancing their glistening spokes like comets to the tune of an ice cream truck at the curb.

One solitary key left with the building, our storage space was never vandalized, or curiously anything else taken – the lock, never broken, just opened and closed again while we were away that long summer. In the early autumn months, there are more strange occurrences. Three Doberman pinschers die from rat poison in the back alley — a bold black swastika soon marking the German janitor’s garage door. Intolerant of our back yard games and neighbor’s noisy pets, he never liked kids or dogs, that much is eerily certain.

I know we won’t ever buy back our stolen bicycles or figure out what happened, but I save $100 from babysitting on weekends over the next couple of years. So determined I am one day to purchase a new, grass green Maserati which we pass safely along to my youngest brother when I leave for college.

Referencing our Demo Class, Beijing Bicycle, with Roberta Seret, Thursday, 2/3

Click to see the captured event, courtesy of TC Office of the Web.

Learning at the Library » Recreation

Balance and Momentum: Spring Education Program

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