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Articles by Barbara D. Katz-Brown
Readers Writes - Make Me Smile
By Monica Gullotta I want to smile. I promise. It's just hard these days because of the political divide, wars, environmental decline, and the residual effects of COVID-19 lingering on. Then a switch goes off in my brain, I have agency. I can think about something else rather than cascading into a never-ending vortex playing havoc on my mind. But where do I begin? And how do I start? I look at the ceiling. I look at the floor. Waiting patiently, twiddling my thumbs when a spider comes along.
Readers' Writes: Nana and Papa, A First Grade Grandson, and The Virus
The phone rang at 11:30 p.m. in late August. I was already in bed, slowly drifting to sleep. I picked up the phone. It was my daughter. I could hear the desperation in her voice as she was trying to speak. “The School Superintendent just made school online for the first half of the year.” “Mom, how am I going to work my full-time job at home online, teach my 1st grader, entertain my preschooler and take care of everything else?” She broke down sobbing. “I didn’t plan to be a teacher. I can’t do this.
Readers Writes: Reunion 2030
The 70 year old woman held the paperback book, “Ithaca: A Brief History” by Carol Kammen in her hands as she sat on the bus. Several of the passages in the book had been underlined and the pages dog-eared, helping her remember the small city she loved, as she was working and living far away.
Readers Writes: Reunion 2030
The 70 year old woman held the paperback book, “Ithaca: A Brief History” by Carol Kammen in her hands as she sat on the bus. Several of the passages in the book had been underlined and the pages dog-eared, helping her remember the small city she loved, as she was working and living far away.
ESSAY: My Brilliant Solution: A School Challenge
She sat at the table with her head down. Her dark greasy hair covered the sides of her face as she slowly picked at the remains of purple nail polish on her nails. She was in my office again and I was the assistant principal of the middle school. This young lady had been asked to leave classrooms many times over three years for a variety of infractions. Mary (not her real name) had a reputation for being disrespectful, insubordinate and rude to adults in the school.
Kickball Justice
“He budged the line.”“She threw the ball so I could not kick it on purpose.”“I threw the ball at him but didn’t mean to hit his eye.” “She cheated and stole a base.”“He didn’t follow the rules.”“She bit me on the arm to get the ball.” Everyday. Every single day of the school year there were disagreements on the playground, usually between the fourth and fifth grade boys and girls. “It isn’t fair or Dooo Ooover” they would scream.
Vilma’s Journey | Special Sections | ithaca.com
Vilma stood in the long line of people shifting the weight of the three month old in her arms from one foot to the other, one hip to the other, until she looked up at her husband and said, “Please take the baby for a while.” Meinhard took the baby from her as she stretched her arms and her back. The three of them had crossed the Atlantic Ocean on the steamboat called “The Majestic” from Cherbourg, France, after taking a horse-drawn carriage to the train in Ovida, Romania.
Readers' Writes | Family in Transition
When we walked to the car, I began to cry and our daughter looked at us and simply said, “He’s not dead, mom. He’s only going to college.” This prompted me to laugh through my tears, and although our daughter was correct, she was unaware what a huge transition this would be for our family.
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