I take a walk in my neighborhood. One of the gifts of living in South Louisiana are the live oak trees. We have been getting rain every day this summer. It helps to keep temperatures reasonable, in the 80’s rather than the 90’s, and it resurrects the resurrection fern.
This morning the sun was up and glowing on the fern. I often refer to this phenomenon in my poetry. A word search on my blog turned up 9 results. To celebrate the fern today, I am re-using the lines in a photo-poem.
My senses awake like resurrection fern after the rain,
Grandmother Oak holds her jewels
of resurrection fern and Spanish moss
like modest ornaments.
Fern glistens in the emerging sun.
Her branches open wide for resurrection fern.
Being present is easy
when the light shines
on resurrection fern
making shadows to
fascinate me.
Live oaks reveal God’s name,
open resurrection fern.
This week I prepared my two classrooms at two schools for back-to-school next week. I was blessed to have helpers. In one classroom, one of my students appeared. Her mother was in a teacher workshop, so she was hanging out at the school helping out where she could. At the end of the year, I have to pack up the books so that the floors can be cleaned, so Lani re-shelved the books. I told her she could choose her own sorting method, so she put together books by the same author. I’m sure the order will change once kids start pulling them out to read, but it’s nice to start the year with some kind of order.
At another school, my friend Kristina came to help. She handled the stapler for the bulletin board and shelved my mountain of books. She decided to order books by genre, and she even made signs for the shelves.
Kristina makes signs for the book shelves.
I celebrate my little helpers and that feeling of anticipation that comes with a new school year.
Poetry gift from Carol Varsalona.
I celebrate the summer poetry swap. I got this gift from Carol Varsalona. Carol has a unique talent of pairing photos with poems and creating timeless images. Her poem is a riddle poem about a fan. I can use a fan when temperatures climb to 90+ daily, but this one is too pretty to use. She also sent a necklace of handmade beads from paper. Carol wrote, “The women in Masese, Uganda wove the beads from paper that is hung to dry. With the proceeds we built an elementary school where 550+ children are educated, fed two meals a day, and have clean water. The mothers of Masese are proud jewelry makers who now can make a living to raise their children.” I will proudly wear the beads. Thanks, Carol.
I celebrate Iberia Parish Rocks! My husband found this rock on his doorstep on Friday. He texted it to me. That evening we saw an article in the paper about a Facebook group painting happy rocks to leave around town. What a great project for just spreading a bit of joy!
My summer is quickly coming to an end, but what a summer it has been. I am so grateful for my amazing trips to Tanzania, Africa and Old Bedlam Farm. I am also grateful for lazy days spent with my constant companion, Charlie. I wish I could take him with me to school.
My summer is quickly coming to an end. School starts in a few short weeks. It’s time for me to focus, get into the classroom, and make plans for the year.
But first, I want to celebrate the summer life, that laid-back time when the day is completely empty. When you can take time to explore a used bookstore in the woods of upstate New York.
When you can take time to peruse an antique store down the road in Salem. Don’t forget to open the tiny drawers to find the smallest treasures, like a mustard seed pendant.
Leaning on my friends Julianne Harmatz and Kimberley Moran.
When you can take a lawn chair up the hill, find the shade of a tree, and write in the quiet of the morning.
Tara writes on the hillside. Sophie explores nearby.
I have been home for a week from a most amazing trip to Tanzania, Africa and still processing the experience through blog posts. You can read them all:
Today I am celebrating our school visit. The Grand Circle Foundation sponsors a number of schools in Tanzania. The one we visited is Endoro Primary School in Karatu.
The head teacher, “Mother Mary”, took us into her small office to tell us about the school and answer any questions. Most of her students come to school from the Iraqw tribe. They do not know the national language, Kiswahili. All subjects in primary school are taught in the national language, and English is one class. Later, in secondary school, all subjects are taught in English. These students not only have to master many subjects, they must do so in many languages.
They begin school at 7 AM with cleaning and eating a breakfast of porridge. The classrooms were very basic with a chalkboard at one end and 10 desks in 3 rows with 2-3 students at each desk. The desks consisted of a wooden bench and a short wooden table top. Their supplies include pencils, assignment books, and textbooks. There are no computers at this school.
While we were there, the regional director passed by, Sandra. It was amazing to hear her speak of the foundation and their mission to improve education. The Tanzanian government has made all public schools free. But that means there is no longer a $10 tuition fee per year. Costs for supplies, books, uniforms, food, etc. are not covered. Grand Circle Foundation recently built more classrooms and installed toilets at Endoro School.
Sandra assured us 100% of the donations go directly to the schools. She told us the cost of textbooks is about $3-$6 each. What a bargain to us in the US!
Endoro Primary School, Karatu, Tanzania
I was charmed by the students that I met. One girl told me her name is Martha, my third daughter’s name, so we made an immediate connection. I hope to establish pen pals for my students.
Visiting with school girls
My birthday is August 11th. For my birthday, I am asking my friends to donate to the Grand Circle Foundation specifically for Endoro school. You can donate by emailing me for a donation form, signing on to the Grand Circle Foundation Website, or sending a payment to me through Pay Pal and I will donate. Just think what $10 can do for these kids!
Here is a video of the students singing a welcome song and my small group singing their National Anthem. (Sorry, it’s quite loud, so turn down your volume.)
Poetry Friday round-up is with Carol at Beyond LiteracyLink.
Allan Wolf…
Just like the animal
Allan Wolf…
Just like the animal
We chanted these words back and forth in a delightful performance at the Lydia library. Allan Wolf performs and teaches about poetry with pizazz. He makes poems sing, shake, and shine.
I invited my students to join me in seeing Allan Wolf’s performance at the library. Four of them came. I loved seeing them and catching up on what they are reading and doing this summer.
Allan Wolf engages the audience. Through singing and dancing, he demonstrates how poems are musical. We all wiggled, made sound effects, and echoed to participate in the fun of poetry.
In this video he is showing kids how nursery rhymes are our first exposure to poetry, and they work because they rhyme. But mostly, the kids are just enjoying his humor when he gets the words wrong.
My students write a lot during the school year and for Poetry Month, they write a poem every day. Kaiden wanted to share his favorite poem “Wonder” with Allan Wolf. After the performance, Allan continued to engage with my students. Erin told him about our Slice of Life challenge and how she hates having to write an SOL every day.
Allan turned to a box on the table that he hadn’t used in the performance. He was sharing a secret with just us. He opened it to show two vials, one looked like water, the other thick syrup. He explained the process of getting syrup out of the tree sap. The sap must be boiled down. Then he showed them a gallon jug of tree sap. “It takes this much sap to make that much syrup.” That’s how writing is. You have to write and write to get the best, sweetest writing.
Allan Wolf did more in that metaphor moment to bridge the summer to next school year than any summer program could. His performance was fun, but the time he took to interact with my students and me afterwards was invaluable. Authors are my heroes.
At the beginning of his performance, Allan points to words on a makeshift clothesline to introduce himself. When he talks about the word “author”, he pronounces it with two gestures: “Aw” with sweet eyes and soft voice, and “Thor” with a raised arm as if he is holding a torch and a strong voice. Because authors are both sensitive and brave. Allen Wolf is a true “Aw-Thor”!
A selfie with Allan Wolf and Sami Sion, the best librarian ever!
La Poussiere means “the dust.” The dance hall by this name in Breaux Bridge, LA was so named because the original floor was dirt, so when Cajuns danced a jig, the dust would fly.
Geno Delafose and the French Rocking Boogie sing a song entitled “She Makes the Dust Fly.”
Last night, my husband and I were Zydeco dancing to Geno at La Poussiere.
Twenty years ago, Geno would not have been welcome in La Poussiere. There were strict unwritten rules against black people entering the club. In 1996, The New York Times featured an article about a lawsuit that required La Poussiere to drop its policy and open its doors to black patrons, even on Saturday night. Comments from locals stated that this was the way it’s always been. There was an undercurrent of acceptance of racial discrimination. However, as Breaux Bridge became more of a tourist area, these traditions came in to question.
Today, blacks and whites not only dance at La Poussiere, they often dance together. The cultures are becoming mixed and more accepting. Last night, there was a Cajun man playing the triangle on stage with the all black band.
Yesterday, my friend Tara Smith posted about addressing civil rights issues with her students. She teaches in an affluent, mostly white area. She said, “As I have found in years past, none of my students had ever heard of Emmett Till, a boy not much older than they are, who lost his life to hatred and racism. Few history text books seem to mention Emmett Till, and we can now add the names of Travon Martin and Tamir Rice (to name just two) to our country’s long legacy of racism and the heartbreaking violence it breeds. But, teaching history demands that we seek the truth so that we can do better.”
Teaching demands that we do better. We all need to do better. We need to look at our neighbors as persons worthy of respect and honor whether we are dancing, having a meal, going to church, or driving on the highway.
Dancing and music are great equalizers. We are all comrades enjoying the parade. Turn up the music, hear the beat, and remember always, always to be kind.
Ruth Ayres invites us the celebrate each week. Click over to her site Discover. Play. Build. to read more celebrations.
I have discovered that I value connections. When we are willing to be vulnerable, we can trust others with our stories. Trusting someone with your story takes courage, but the reward is love. Making connections through story creates a bond, not only with the other but also within yourself and your own self-worth.
On Sunday, I made a connection with words from the Bible. Part of the reading from Romans was this, “suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us.” Romans 5:3-4
I am writing a verse novel with the working title of “Hope is our Song.” Immediately when I read these words, I chose them as my epigraph for the book. I spoke with the young priest after the service about his sermon. His words resonated with me and will connect with anyone who has suffered.
I am unable to give you an answer as to the why of human suffering. I cannot answer the age old question why do bad things happen to good people?However, I see in the Trinity how we get through such suffering- we get through such suffering, we make such suffering meaningful, because of our love for each other.–Seth Walley
Love is communicated through connection, through our shared stories, through our empathy toward one another.
Again, the word hope pops up and these words from Rebecca Solnit speak to me.
I wrote a book called Hope in the Dark about hope where the — where that darkness was the future, that the present and past are daylight, and the future is night. But in that darkness is a kind of mysterious, erotic, enveloping sense of possibility and communion. Love is made in the dark as often as not. And then to recognize that unknowability as fertile, as rich as the womb rather than the tomb in some sense..
In talking to my friend and making the connection between the Bible verse, her new book, the podcast I was listening to, our conversation was rich with meaning. She advised me to pay attention. The universe is speaking to me. This blog post is my way of taking note and paying attention. I celebrate connections.
Ruth Ayres invites us the celebrate each week. Click over to her site Discover. Play. Build. to read more celebrations.
This was our last week of school. On Tuesday, Vannisa spent the whole day with me finishing the Unsung Hero project. She finished the script, annotated bibliography, documentary video, and process paper. Whew! This was a group project for our 6th grade gifted students all year long, but our last group meeting was in April. The finishing touches were tedious, yet had to be done to submit the project to the Lowell Milken Unsung Hero Discovery Award.
I celebrate Vannisa’s persistence and commitment to this project. I hope at some future time to be able to share the video and story.
On Thursday after report card hand-out, I traveled to New Orleans to see two of my daughters. We had a lovely dinner together. I celebrate being the mom of happy, successful adults.
On Friday, I drove home to be with my parents. Dad’s art was in a show of winners of previous juried shows at The Cedars in Jackson. This drawing was my favorite. When Dad spoke of it, he said he figured out that it was OK to leave white space. We talked about how the white space is integral to the composition.
Heron, pen and ink pointillism by John Gibson.
My parents, Dot and John Gibson with Dad’s art.
Now I am sitting on the back porch at the lake enjoying a cup of coffee with Dad and listening to the calls of the birds. I celebrate time to slow down, time to be here, time…
Ruth Ayres invites us the celebrate each week. Click over to her site Discover. Play. Build. to read more celebrations.
This weekly habit of celebrating is so good for me. By Saturday, I’m tired and inclined to think the worst about my week. And yet, to prepare a celebration post, I look back at my photos. There I see so much to celebrate. Take a photo journey through my week.
Mother’s Day with daughters #1 and #3.
Gardenia, my favorite scent, a gift from my daughter from her boyfriend’s yard. I wish it were scratch and sniff.
A field trip to the beautiful and magical Avery Island. Click the image to read more.
This note means more to me than the Starbucks card attached. (I do love vanilla lattes.)
Students play strategic games at Gifted by Nature Day.
I celebrate a week of love, flowers, kindness, beauty, and games. As my school year comes to a close, I need to focus more on these things.
A praise report!! My friend Amy got a scan this week that shows her cancer is “resolved.” No new spots. No light-ups! All clear! Wow, in just 5 months. Thank God!
Ruth Ayres invites us the celebrate each week. Click over to her site Discover. Play. Build. to read more celebrations.
After more than a week of testing, my students and I needed to relax and make art. Rather than plopping in a movie like many of my colleagues, I decided we should make a complete mess with gel printing. They loved it! I celebrate messiness today.
My hands were printed along with the paper.
May is a stressful time, but one of the lights of the month is Teacher Appreciation Week. I think I gained 5 pounds eating all the goodies in the lounge. Wonderful meals and amazing desserts! I celebrate the weeklong lighthearted laughter in the lounge.
To celebrate our year of writing, my students and I are making repurposed books. I’ve written about them on this blog a few times: here and here.
My students are enjoying collecting their favorite pieces of writing in a “real” book.
A page of Emily’s book: A poem about A Handful of Stars by Cynthia Lord.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She is a retired elementary gifted teacher who writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 