Archive for March, 2017

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Poetry Friday is with Amy at The Poem Farm


Today is the final day for the Slice of Life Challenge, and I have run out of words.  I took a tour of my Facebook feed to find some.  It was a good day for most.  I found happy, dreamy words and created a poem.  Thanks for taking this daily writing journey with me this month.  Now on to National Poetry Month and a Poem-a-Day.

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Every month, Michelle H. Barnes posts an interview with a poet.  Then a Ditty Challenge is given.  This month’s challenge comes from Helen Frost.

Choose an object (a seashell, a hairbrush, a bird nest, a rolling pin). It should not be anything symbolic (such as a doll, a wedding ring, or a flag). Write five lines about the object, using a different sense in each line (sight, sound, touch, taste, smell). Then ask the object a question, listen for its answer, and write the question, the answer, or both.

I opened the freezer for a Thin Mint cookie, and thus an ode appeared.

Green-vested Girl Scouts
line boxes on a table outside Walgreens.
Crinkling wax paper opens
to a circle of mouth-watering chocolate.
Mint permeates my senses.
Why are you hiding in this box?
Come on out for my delight,
a refreshing bite.

–Margaret Simon







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My house still smells like a florist.  Lilies and roses opening wide to remind me we had a wedding here.  The balloons have lost their height, and we’ve just about finished giving away or eating all of the 20 pineapples that decorated the tables.  My daughter Maggie is relaxing at the beach and admiring her rings.  She says Grant, her husband (that feels weird to write) wants a ring for his right hand, too.

If you follow my blog or my Facebook, you know this was the second wedding in six months in our family.  When Maggie started talking about getting engaged soon after Katherine’s wedding, I pulled out the family wedding band.  I regret that I hadn’t thought about it before, but since my girls wanted nothing to do with my wedding gown, I assumed they wouldn’t want an old wedding band.

My husband’s family sailed to Louisiana from Germany in the late 1800’s.  They settled in New Iberia. In 1893, Mary Baumgartner married George Simon.  One hundred years later in  the mid 1990’s, Jeff’s great aunt died, and we found this ring in her belongings, along with the wedding invitation.  Put away for safe keeping, I nearly forgot about it.

When I showed it to Maggie, she loved it.  She decided to ask Grant for an eternity band as an engagement ring.  This set fits Maggie’s style, simple elegance.  I am happy to have family history a part of this new marriage.

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We have been friends with our next door neighbors for years, even before we moved into this house 12 years ago.  We had kids the same ages going to the same schools.  We’ve shared our lives with a cup of coffee or over a glass of wine.  When their son got married a few years ago, we housed the photographer and his son.  When their daughter was married last fall, we offered our driveway to parking.  My husband made a sign “Guest Parking.”

My neighbors knew they would be out of town for Maggie’s wedding, so they offered their house for my family to stay in.  My sister and her family slept there, but many of us parked our cars there.

When my friend returned home Saturday night, a day early, she texted me.  I told her it wasn’t a problem for my sister’s family to move back to our house.  But we left the cars in the driveway. At 9:30, I got this text:

“Do not love the cars.”

I started fuming.  I decided to be cool and responded, “We’ll move them.”  And sent my brother-in-law over to start moving cars back to our driveway.  I had many not-so-nice thoughts run through my head.  Luckily I didn’t text any of them.

Shortly after, she called and left me a frantic message, “I didn’t mean love!  I meant move!  Do not move the cars!”

I returned her call, and we laughed about it.

My brother-in-law’s wisdom was “Trust the relationship. Not the auto-correct.”

Lesson learned.  In this day of quick fingers and auto-correct, we must remember that friends are friends.  “I get by with a little help from my friends!”


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So Much Joy

A backyard wedding
After the storm
Sun awakens new spring green
Vases of red roses and eucalyptus
Balloons float on air
Bride in fur
Groom in linen
Family together
Grandmother judge officiates
Quote from Dr. Seuss:
Fall in mutual weirdness.
Call it love.

Balcony witnesses from three coasts
Champagne popped at I do
Red boiled crawfish spice the tongue
Poboys, Zapp’s chips, Heath bar cookies
Beer in a pirogue
Spin me around one more time
So much Joy!

–Margaret Simon

Through the window, a look of love.

Balloon aftermath; pineapples are ripe.

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Slice of Life Challenge

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Please use this button on your site for DigiLit Sunday posts

In my teaching, reflection is important to me.  Not on purpose, really, but as part of my nature. I mull over things.  I wonder out loud and silently.  I talk with colleagues.  I also participate in a Good2Great Voxer chat.

Good2Great teachers are continuously reflecting.  We are always engaging in conversations about our teaching practice. One evening last week, Trevor Bryan and I got into a conversation about the writing process.  He made me think when he said, “The writing process is a creative process, and in the creative process, artists and writers are always making bad work.  Something that doesn’t work is part of the creative process.”

My burning question was born from this conversation.  “How do we honor the process of writing?”

Blogging is a huge part of the writing process in my classroom.  I’ve contended that by writing every day on a blog, my students’ writing grows and improves.  I still believe that, but I’m not sure I honor the mulling, the brainstorming, the idea gathering.  I have stressed to my students that they are writing for an audience.

Jacob decided to write about the movie Moana for his Slice.  When I read his post, he was telling the story of the movie…the whole movie.  He said, “This is only one third of the movie.  I can make more posts.”

Of course he could, but would anyone want to read multiple long posts retelling the Moana story?  I posed that question to him and immediately felt a pang in my gut.  I wasn’t honoring the process.  I was thinking only of the product.  I realized that maybe by writing this whole story, Jacob would learn about writing dialogue.  He would learn about a story arc.  And he wasn’t writing from a book he read.  He was writing from a movie he watched.  He would have to create the actions with his words.

How often do we stifle our young writers?  I know they need to practice.  They need to write often.  But who am I to tell them they must produce a worthy product every time?  As a writer, do I?  Not at all.

Sometimes students do not need to write for an audience.  I will continue to reflect on this question and watch myself more carefully.  Honoring the process is as important, if not more important, that celebrating the product.


If you are joining the DigiLit conversation today, please link up.

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Find more celebration posts at Ruth’s blog.

Thursday was an adventurous morning, so I created a Slice of Life model post for my students.

When I got to school this morning, I saw a crowd of teachers looking at a wall of the school.  In fact, they had their phones out and were taking pictures.  I finally saw what they were looking at.  A rat!  

Ms. Katie wasn’t taking a picture.  She was making an emergency phone call to the maintenance department.

I was on car line duty, so I could watch the whole adventure take place.  Mr. Rat stayed in place in the crook of the corner for a while.  Then there was Mr. Leonard with a black trash can.

The rat scurried around the corner and the chase was on!

Not long after Mr. Leonard and Ms. Katie disappeared around the side of the school, the cafeteria side which was smelling strongly of syrup, the maintenance department trucks (there were 2) showed up.  I didn’t see the action, but I assumed the ratty rat was caught and disposed of.

As we walked back into school, Mrs. Delahoussaye reminded me, “We are taking over their environment, the canefields.  They have every right to be here.”

I’m not sure I agree.  

One of my students started drawing a picture a day on the whiteboard.  Here’s a collage of her drawings:


Speaking of art, the mural is complete.  Here’s a picture of the completed gator mural by Mary Lacy.


Today is my oldest daughter’s wedding.  Talk about a celebration.  She wants me to read a Margaret Atwood poem at her ceremony.  It’s not sentimental (not Maggie’s nor Margaret Atwood’s style), but I still hope I can get through it without choking up.

by Margaret Atwood

Marriage is not
a house or even a tent

it is before that, and colder:

the edge of the forest, the edge
of the desert
the unpainted stairs
at the back where we squat
outside, eating popcorn

the edge of the receding glacier

where painfully and with wonder
at having survived even
this far

we are learning to make fire


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