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Archive for the ‘Slice of Life’ Category

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

Last summer we instituted the first annual Simon Summer Camp, complete with t-shirts. One of the daily activities was a walk. A neighbor and long time friend has an empty lot next to his house. He’s had a mound of dirt on this lot for a while now.

We call it the mountain. Leo is five, so he remembers. When he and his sister Stella visited this weekend, Leo said, “Let’s go to the mountain.” Stella, in her 3 year old wisdom thought this might be a long trip, so she would need the Disney chair.

Watching these siblings create games is thoroughly entertaining. It wasn’t long before they were racing from across the street to make it to the mountain. Leo always won.

Then Leo found a shovel under the tarp and wanted to dig. There was only one shovel. This caused a little screaming from Stella, so Mamere had an idea. “Let’s go back home and get little shovels (trowels) and pots, and we can make plants.”

They loved the idea, so we hiked back home and got two trowels and two black plastic pots. The kids successfully dug some dirt and filled their pots. Unfortunately, there was a gathering of stinging ants near Leo, but he didn’t complain. It wasn’t until later that I noticed both of his hands covered in ant bites. Somehow when you are on a brave adventure, a little pain is to be expected and endured.

I happened to have an envelop of marigold seeds left over from last summer, so they were able to plant seeds as well as decorate their pots with clover flowers.

I know these childhood adventures are fleeting. I hope they will remember their visits to Mamere and Papere’s as times of fun, love, and safety. My daughter values our time with them because she had these moments with her grandparents. Those memories feel like dreams now as she manages a tough job and raising two smart, sassy, and curious kids. I’m exhausted after only a mere 24 hours. They’re totally worth it.

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

Yesterday I read the New York Times newsletter, an article titled “Hurry up and Wait” by Melissa Kirsch. I do not live in a large city and don’t use mass transit to get to work, but the concept of hurry is very much a part of my week days. I like to rise early so that I have time to write, to read, and to walk. Then I rush!

Because I value a slow start, I usually end up rushing. When I rush, I get irritable.

I worry that these rushing mornings affect my patience with my students. If I haven’t had the time to eat, my patience turns to “hangry”. The NYT article pointed me to Marie Howe’s poem, Hurry. Read it. It’ll only take you 31 seconds to read, to stop and think “What was all that hurrying for?”

Hurry
honey, run
two, three steps
Where are we going?
Slowdown

Margaret Simon, daily elfchen
Photo by Ertabbt on Pexels.com

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

This week was Wonder Week in my classroom as we explored Welcome to the Wonder House by Rebecca Kai Dotlich and Georgia Heard. Each day I let a student choose which “room” we would visit. In this book, there are rooms you would not expect to find: The Room of Ordinary Things, The Room of Imagination, The Room of Wishes. Each page contains poems by Rebecca and Georgia. Each poem invites the reader to think, feel, wonder.

After I read aloud the poems, we notice things like structure, metaphor, imagery. Then they write in their notebooks.

Georgia talks about creating a space for poetry every day. It doesn’t have to take long. I believe in the power of poetry to teach, but also to inspire and somehow settle into you and become part of you.

I write alongside my students every day. We’ve been using markers, colored pencils, washi tape to make our pages pop and please us. Here is a page of my own notebook.

Our notebooking is not perfection which is something I model. Some pages are messy. Some pages do not come out like we want them to, but the practice of playing with poetry, following a line, stealing a metaphor, making an acrostic from a single word, satisfies the imagination and fills the soul.

If you are interested in participating in the Kidlit Progressive Poem in the month of April, the sign up is here.

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Poetry Friday is hosted today by Linda at Teacher Dance.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

Hello, March! If I’ve counted right, this is my eleventh year to participate in the Slice of Life Challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers. I’ve challenged myself to write a post every day in March. I will also write every day in April because that’s National Poetry Month. I’ve learned that a daily writing practice enriches my life, connects me with others, and makes me a better writer. Thanks to all my readers. You inspire and encourage me.

Today I’m the challenger of my writing group, the Inklings. We each take a turn at creating a prompt for the first Friday of each month. I asked my friends Molly Hogan, Mary Lee Hahn, Catherine Flynn, Linda Mitchell, and Heidi Mordhorst to write persona poems. Persona poems are written in a different voice. The author can speak through an object, another person, an emotion, etc.

I attended a workshop led by Babalwa Tetyana (link is to the YouTube recording) sponsored by Narrative 4. She guided us to write persona poems. I chose to write from the perspective of a portrait of myself at age 12. I sent my draft to the Inklings. They were confused about who the speaker was. Me or me? Yes, it was me. Tricky.

I decided maybe a form could contain the poem and make the emotions clearer. A nod to Irene Latham’s Poetry Friday’s post last week; she wrote a double tricube. Here’s my rewrite.

Portrait of Margaret Simon by Elizabeth Wolfe

My Portrait Speaks

I look out
behind glass,
12 year old

intense eyes
watch you
avoid my glance.

Your child-self
grieves with you–
penciled lines

trace my face.
Dear innocent
insecure soul,

look my way.
I hold love
in my eyes.

I’m your source
a savior sent
behind glass.

Margaret Simon, draft
Sign up for the April Kidlit Progressive Poem.

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

Having a safe space to imagine and dream and (re)invent yourself is the first step to being happy and successful, whatever road you choose to pursue.

Ashley Bryan, We Rise We Resist We Raise Our Voices foreword

Hope, a mark of hope, a small piece of washi tape from a student now in my notebook reminding me that I am in a safe space.

Creating a safe space for writers is my top goal as an ELA teacher. When I hear a student read aloud their most fresh and vulnerable words, I am honored. Sometimes they don’t want to share; however, they will hand me their notebook to read. They are watching my eyes for the glow of adoration. I do adore what they write. They are confident children. I need to remember, though, that they are children. They need my validation. My words of encouragement. A sign of hope.

A mark of hope
a place to be
A dream to dream
a road to see
you see in me
a hand with a gift
a mark of hope
a place to be

Margaret Simon, draft
Playing with washi tape shapes in my notebook.

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

On Sunday, I took Leo to church with me. I packed a cloth bag with 2 fruit snacks, a blank book, crayons, pens, and 2 Dum Dums. I was ready to entertain a bored 5 year old.

I sing in the choir. We sing from a loft. We are a small group that makes a joyful noise. We practice for an hour before the service. During practice, Leo drew, colored, and watched the organist play. When we took a break, he said, “That took forever.”

When the service began, I was prepared for him to want to go home, but he didn’t whine at all. He told me he wanted to watch from the stairs.

Leo on the stairs at church

Our church is an old Episcopal church founded in the 1850’s. My husband’s family arrived in Louisiana in the 1880’s and his great grandfather and great grandmother, George and Mary, were married in the church. This space is not only sacred, it is historic.

This was Leo’s first visit that he will remember. Amazing changes happen at all ages of early development, but the one I’ve noticed since Leo turned 5 is his curiosity and understanding of things, relationships, and perhaps the concept of “Jesus Loves Me” that I read to him from the box of crayons.

He said, “There are 3 S’s.”

After the service, we went into the parish hall for treats and juice. Friends were greeting us, saying hello to Leo, admiring his good behavior and his curly hair.

As I was buckling him into his car seat to head home, he asked me, “How do you know all those people?”

I answered, “I’ve been going to this church for 41 years.”

He said, “That means you’re old.”

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

I started this 2024 year off as I’ve always wanted to, by writing every day. I haven’t missed a day yet. And I’m saying to my self, “This is easy.” I receive a newsletter each week from poet Maggie Smith. Hers is the only Substack I actually subscribe to. Her letter this week encouraged us to keep going. She has a just do it attitude about writing. It doesn’t matter if it’s any good. Just keep doing it, every day.

“If anyone has tried to stop me, it’s been that little voice in my head that says I’m not good enough, or no one will care what I have to say, or my idea isn’t very interesting. And my job is to turn down the volume of that little voice—the ‘inner critic’ we sometimes call it—and believe in myself and keep going. And I hope you do that, too.”

Maggie Smith

I’ve tried The Artist’s Way morning pages, but there are too many page requirements (3). I’m doing only one page. That’s it. That’s enough.

Keeping a notebook nearby is important to this practice. That and a good pen that feels smooth, flows easily. I’m not a brand snob about it. Sometimes the best pens are ones I’ve found at a doctor’s office.

To be writers, we have to give ourselves permission to write badly. Revision is our friend. I hold my breath whenever I send a poem or two to my writing group. How can I be so tender after all these years? I’ll always be vulnerable when it comes to writing, but that shouldn’t stop me.

Are you writing every day? If you’re not, are you feeling guilty about it? What would help? A new pen? A new notebook? Indulge in those things, but don’t wait for ideas. Ideas are those sparks that happen only if you ARE writing. They don’t happen unless you open the clean page and scribble a bit. Maybe one day what you scribble will look like a poem. Maybe one day your scribbles will speak to others. But today, scribble, play, bounce words around.

I am participating in Laura Shovan’s February Challenge on Facebook. It’s a small community of people like me. Some are more published. Some are not. We are all throwing words out and looking at how they land. I can write long or short. This year the topic is games, but I’m enjoying how loosely this topic has been interpreted. Today’s prompt was “games animals play” and I couldn’t help but think of my dog Charlie and his faithfulness to the tennis ball.

Charlie the schnoodle learned early
in his life to relate to strangers
with the toss of a ball.
Anyone would throw it; he would retrieve
again and again–offering
his love & attention
by way of a yellow tennis ball.

(Ode to Charlie, Sept. 1, 2007-Sept. 13, 2023) 

Margaret Simon, draft

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.

H. D. Thoreau from 365 Days of Wonder: Mr. Browne’s Precepts

Notebook Musings:

Can kindness be taught? How does someone reach out in kindness? We worry so much about impressions. Small talk drives our relationships: How are you doing? We don’t stand still long enough to hear, really hear the answer.

Naomi Shihab Nye wrote, “Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,/ you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.” I believe this, yes. I also believe that if you want a child to be kind, you must practice kindness. I hope my grandchildren learn this from me.

I received two messages yesterday that warmed my heart. My middle daughter wrote, “Thomas said, ‘I love baking with my grandma. Do you know who that is? It’s Mamère!”

The second came from my oldest daughter. “I really want him (her son) to have his own relationship with y’all like I did with my grandparents. Makes life more meaningful for all involved. He is a little secret sweetie.” She texted me that Leo had left his two stuffed animals, Bunny and Bear, at my house. I imagined how sad he was without them in his bed.

Secret
soft stuffy
missing beside boy
catching silent tears of
Loss

Margaret Simon, daily elfchen

I found the stuffies and they are waiting to be returned to their boy.

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

We officially went back to school on Monday after a full two-week break, but because of an unpredictable weather system, we dismissed early, so I did not see all of my students. In a way I wasn’t ready for a full day. The early release helped me get a grip on what I need to get done this week. It was as though the train I was on came to a full stop in the middle of the journey. Pause. Think. Plan.

I made the decision to lean back on a reliable and time proven way to start our class: 100 Days of Notebooking. I recall a few years ago after attending NCTE, I received the gift of this idea from Michelle Haseltine. I still follow her on Instagram, and she is still notebooking. With my first group of kids on Monday, I introduced the idea.

I leaned back on William Stafford’s writing habit with these 4 steps:

  • Date
  • Quote of the Day
  • What’s up?
  • Poem-ish

That’s it, a simple format that seems to work every time. I set the timer for 10 minutes and we write…together. Creative freedom is my only goal. I hope getting back to this practice gives me, as well as my students, time to express themselves, a time for pause and peace (my OLW).

For my poem-ish, I wrote an elfchen. These are so fun to write. See the process here.

“When you say ‘yes’ to others, make sure you are not saying ‘no’ to yourself.”  Paulo Coelho

Yes
makes sound
like the ocean
drawing me to love
Myself.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

This new year has come in quiet, restful, on tender feet. Twenty Twenty Four has a nice sound to it.

My family has been talking a lot about the Enneagram. On the long drive to and from North Georgia, we listened to The Enneagram Journey with Suzanne Stabile. My husband and I were riding with our middle daughter and her 4 year old son. Enneagram language has now entered our family talk. It has transformed the way I speak to and about my daughters. And now, after 12 or so hours of instruction, my husband and I speak about it as well. It is an amazing tool toward empathy and understanding.

I subscribe to an Enneathought of the Day. This little short piece of advice is helpful in keeping me healthy in my ever present mind. I am a four which means my orientation to time is the past. I can get stuck in my feelings about things. My work toward a more healthy way of being is to be present.

I am still working on my One Little Word for this year. Come back on Spiritual Thursday for that post. (And certainly if you are a blogger and want to write with us, you can join with Inlinkz on Thursday.)

Today’s Enneathought teaching “Health is a measure of our capacity to be present.” I think this teaching is valuable to all of us. Here is my reflection:

Health is the Measure of our Capacity to be Present

Present to the muse inside.
Waiting with stillness.
Open to longing
all the while content with its
Begging of me
To do something courageous.
Get out of my head.
Put on my walking shoes.
Say hello to the morning light.
That is all that is required.

Margaret Simon
Amicalola Falls, Georgia (photo by Margaret Simon)

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