Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for the Slice of Life Challenge.
In Louisiana, the term Lagniappe (pronounced lahn-yahp) means a little something extra. Imagine my surprise when my colleague told me that we start school on Wednesday, not Tuesday. I have a whole extra day of summer! Lagniappe!
Lagniappe is taking a break in the shade when the temperatures rise.
Lagniappe is a roseate spoonbill fishing by the roadside.
Lagniappe is goldfish glittering on top.
Lagniappe is finding old treasures.
This name plate was a gift from my supervising teacher when I was student teaching. I wasn’t Mrs. Simon yet, but I would be by the time I had my own classroom. This gift meant so much to me. I’d forgotten how much until I found it. I’ve always preferred to be called Mrs. Simon rather than Miss Margaret, as some teachers in the south do. I think this preference stems from my pride in being Mr. Simon’s wife. Our 34th anniversary is this weekend, and we will be dancing the night away.
Lagniappe is the Wonder quote app which speaks to me today.
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.
Poetry Friday round-up with Sylvia at Poetry for Children. Click here.
Whatever it was that led me back to the poem Beannacht by John O’Donohue, I must thank the Universe. The world has only to listen to his dear Gaelic voice to feel at peace and to know all will be well.
I strive to look for the blessings of a day.
Black-eyed Susans line the drive-thru at CC’s….
The cardinal will not stop tweeting!
My fingers are full of paint.
The classroom floor has paint splatters.
Even my blow dryer is splattered with paint.
I’m painting end-of-the year projects with messy kids.
My daughter is outside reading a magazine
soaking up sun, Vitamin D and Vitamin R (relaxing).
Along with John O’Donohue, I bless you.
May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.
Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.
For Easter weekend I visited my parents in Mississippi. I am so grateful that they are doing so well. My father still draws upstairs in his studio every day. My father’s art is pointillism. The images are created by dots on the page. Last year he was on a medication that kept him from being able to hold his pen steady. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to draw again.
Now he is preparing a set of drawings for a gallery show in May. Each one takes at least a month to complete. I admire his perseverance and his talent.
Focus, patience, and a steady hand are necessary for this style of drawing.
In 2013 in honor of my father’s 80th birthday, I published a book of his Christmas card drawings alongside my original poems. The book is Illuminate and is still available on Amazon.
My father’s studio looks out at this view of the lake. He is currently drawing the tree that hovers near this window. Trees are his favorite subject. “Beautiful and complicated and challenging.”
This drawing hangs in the hallway near the studio. The chiaroscuro (play of dark and light) is prevalent in this drawing.
My father is not a famous artist. He doesn’t sell many of his drawings and when he does, they are modestly priced. That is not why he draws. His art is as necessary to him as air, an intimate part of his being in this world. Drawing dots is his meditation and his communication. I am blessed to be a witness to its beauty.
Ruth Ayres invites us the celebrate each week. Click over to her site Discover. Play. Build. to read more celebrations.
It’s not even my birthday, but I received three “Just Because I Love You” gifts in the mail this week. A bracelet from “MudLove” that inspires me and helps provide a week of clean water to someone in need.
Word bracelets from MudLove.
A hand-knitted scarf. I took a quick selfie.
A bouquet of roses from my daughter and her fiancé.
These gifts were thoughtful and made me feel special. Two of these friends have come to me from this blogging community. I am so grateful for the friendships I am forging through writing.
My students received some gifts this week as well. An artist who visited our class before Christmas sent tiny journals, just the right size for collecting small Slice of Life moments. They started decorating them on Friday.
Nikki Loftin will be Skyping with my class for World Read Aloud Day. She sent bookmarks.
My students raised money for the World Wildlife Fund by holding a bake sale. They raised $250. This week we received two buckets of animals. Now each student has a tiny stuffed companion.
I celebrate gifts of the spirit, too. Across from our house on the bayou is wooded property. In reality, it’s marshy land that would be difficult to develop, but years ago we bought it with our neighbors in order to keep it wild. In the early morning light, reflections are vivid. Beauty in nature is a gift every day.
Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.
For Spiritual Thursday, some of us blogging-writer friends are reflecting on each other’s OLW. This week we are writing about “Selah,” Michelle’s word.
Of course I googled it. What else do we do these days when we don’t know a word? (Funny aside: I told a student today I was exasperated, and she googled it and read aloud, “intense anger.” I might have exaggerated.)
On the internet I found a praise group that I had never heard before. I liked the song and will post the YouTube video. I also learned that the word is used 70-something times in the Psalms. As an alto in the choir, I was pleased to see there was a musical reference to a pause. I imagine the // in the notation on a chant.
On the baby name site, Selah is a girl’s name which means “Stop and listen.”
One thing that makes you take stop, pause, and pay attention is a diagnosis of cancer. Our church community has been rocked by the diagnosis of one of our dearest friends, Amy. Amy and her husband Kelly have four children between the ages of 10 and 16. Their kids are often on the altar as acolytes.
Amy has taken on this unfair disease with courage, faith, and hope. She posted recently on her Caring Bridge site that she has a new perspective. “All of the things I spent so much time worrying about mean nothing anymore. When faced with your own mortality, the only thing that really matters are the people that you love and the experiences you share with them.” She sees so much good, in the people cooking meals for her family, in the daily life of our community (specifically Mardi Gras balls), and in the attitudes of her children.
When I crochet prayer shawls, I practice selah. I often chant the person’s name in my mind as I stitch. The selah is a gift to me as well as a gift for the person I make the shawl for. I finished Amy’s shawl last week and gave it to her on Sunday. Kelly is pictured with her holding the prayer blanket that my friend and co-stitcher, Brenda, made.
Amy and Kelly with prayer shawl and lap blanket.
Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer. Psalm 19:14
Join the Poetry Friday round-up with Keri at Keri Recommends
Last week Michelle Barnes interviewed Douglas Florian who challenged poets to write a poem about nothing. On Saturday, I had a bunch of nothing much going on and I read a poem by Barbara Crooker that was about nothing and the joy of a day when nothing goes wrong. I stole a line and off I went.
with a borrowed line from Barbara Crooker, “Ordinary Life” in The Woman in this Poem selected by Georgia Heard.
This was a day when nothing happened.
I swept the floor.
Leaves piled with swirly
dust–not many left on trees
this winter day, but the sun
shone through a break in the clouds
making my gathering glisten.
I stopped to switch laundry
pulled long sleeves from the dryer.
Soft warmth brushed my cheek.
View from my kitchen window, by Margaret Simon
The dryer hummed a rhythm.
Time enough for another cup of coffee,
another deep breath of nothing happening.
I promised God to be present.
He said, “It’s all in the way you look at things.”
So I swept
words into a small pile
on a page
where nothing much was happening.
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One of the highlights for me at NCTE is meeting all my favorite authors. Every one I meet is generous and kind. I love sharing stories of how my students connect to their books. The authors feel so proud when you talk to them about their books. They also reflect right back to me and appreciate the work I do in the classroom.
I can’t wait to share this video with my students. Some of them wrote letters that I delivered to their favorite author. Kate DiCamillo has already written back.
Making connections to authors enriches the experience of reading. Students learn that there is a real person behind the words. They realize the importance of writing. They aspire to be authors themselves.
Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.
I love that the word harvest is on my list for preparations for Thanksgiving. I have a brown thumb. I am no good at growing stuff. I tend to forget to water, prune, anything that a plant requires for survival. So I am filled with pleasure when I can harvest in my own backyard. God blessed citrus trees with resilience. They don’t need me. And yet they give back to me.
This is how God’s love is. Abundant. All we have to do is harvest it.
I am wishing for you this holiday season an abundant harvest.
Like that tiny mustard seed. When planted it takes root and turns into a large tree with many branches.
Open up your arms to the world.
Glow like the lemon in the sunlight.
Be joy.
Be love.
Be the harvest.
Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.
A year ago, one of my young friends was in a terrible car accident. This week we celebrated her life. Her 24th birthday, and she is walking and talking and trying to build her future. But recovery is long. Her balance is not totally back, so she walks with a cane. Many days she is depressed because she isn’t sure what the future will hold. What is there to do now?
When I don’t know what to do, I think about the ministry of presence. Sometimes that’s all we have. Prayer is presence, the willingness to sacrifice–to give of ourselves to service. Humble our own egos and respond to God’s call to love. That’s it. Love. Sounds easy.
The doorway to true joy is not the need to be loved, but the need to love.
Open the door, welcome the one who has made us all, and free your soul to love without judgement, without ego, without expectation.
A picture of Glenae holding the prayer shawl I made for her when she was in the hospital.
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 