Slice of Life | Reflections on the Teche

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Slice of Life: Writing Free

Posted in Photography, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged Brian Doyle, hummingbirds, Katherine Bomer, notebooks, student writers, The Journey is Everything on August 29, 2016| 13 Comments »

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Thanks to Carol Varsalona for this image to add my words to.

Every time I walk by the kitchen window, I look toward the hummingbird feeder. I put it out after the flood two weeks ago. The rain had stopped. A hummingbird flew to the window and hovered looking right at me, as if he was saying, “Where’s the sweet stuff?” It didn’t take me long to find the feeder and a storage of food in the cabinet, but he did’t return…for days. I wondered if he ever would.

He’s there now, and almost every time I look. I’ve come to depend on his appearance. Like he’s the rainbow after the storm. He’s the sign we all need that life goes on.

Photo by Margaret Simon

Last week I read aloud the essay “Joyas Voladoras” by Brian Doyle to a group of 6th graders. This is the first essay in Katherine Bomer’s book, The Journey is Everything: Teaching Essays that Students Want to Write for People who Want to Read Them.

In his essay, Brian Doyle crushes our own hearts by writing about the hearts of hummingbirds.

(Hummingbird) hearts are stripped to the skin for the war against gravity and inertia, the mad search for food, the insane idea of flight. The price of their ambition is a life closer to death; they suffer more heart attacks and aneurysms and ruptures than any other living creature. It’s expensive to fly. You burn out. You fry the machine. You melt the engine.

My students audibly gasped. Their reaction was pure emotion.

Katherine’s book leads us all on a quest for that reaction from our readers.

Watching my hummingbird, (Yes, he’s mine. I’ve named him Chuey), I realize that the smallest of beings, those minuscule moments, can bring about an emotional reaction.

However, to be open to these moments, I must be willing to write…every day.

Monday, I asked my students to start the class time sitting with their notebooks for 10 minutes and just writing. This freedom to express whatever was happening in their heads excited my young writers. There wasn’t a sound except the clicking of pencils for 10 minutes. Then they couldn’t wait to share!

Jacob wrote about a song he couldn’t get out of his head.
Noah wrote about imagining that everything was made of candy.
Madison wrote about the fire drill earlier in the school day.

To grow my young students into writers, I need to help them view their world as something worth writing about. To show them, I join them. I write freely and share the dribble that comes out on the page. I talk to them about how we must weed through the dribble to find some good stuff. To find those small moments worth savoring and sharing.

If you missed it, here’s the link to the storify for the #DigiLitSunday Twitter chat with Katherine Bomer.

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Mississippi Book Festival

Posted in Slice of Life, Writing, tagged middle-grade authors, Mississippi Book Festival, writing on August 23, 2016| 15 Comments »

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Mississippi Book Festival 2016

I am lucky in so many ways. I grew up in the great state of Mississippi, my parents still live there, so I was able to attend the best book festival ever. The author line-up was a middle-grade teacher/author’s dream come true. Just look at that picture above. There’s me with Kate DiCamillo, and me with Jacqueline Woodson, and me with Irene Latham, me with Kathi Appelt, and me, my mom, and my blogger friend Keri with Augusta Scattergood.

Surrounded by such amazing authors and just plain smart generous people I felt amazing, smart, and generous. I also got brave. I realized early in the day that when you ask a question, a famous author knows you and likes you better.

I listened while Kate DiCamillo told stories that I had heard before (at NCTE 2015, on a streaming video with Mr. Schu, and on The Yarn podcast). But as she spoke and told her stories, funny ones that I never tire of hearing, I remembered on The Yarn interview that she said the only book she would consider rewriting was Tale of Despereaux because of its complicated plot structure. As a teacher of smart kids, I happen to love the structure of Despereaux. It makes for great conversations about craft. So I held up my hand and said that to her, face to face; she was looking right into my eyes.

And Kate said that the narrator in Despereaux guides the reader and guided her, too. Isn’t that a beautiful answer? When I stood in the forever-line to get her to sign my books, she knew me. Well, at least for that moment she did.

Kate (I can call her by her first name now since she knows me) left me with this advice as a fellow writer: “Write your Heart.” I have a WIP (work in progress) that is just that, my heart, so I am comforted by that advice.

With my new brave on, I asked Jacqueline Woodson a question, too. She talked mostly about her new book Another Brooklyn, but I wanted to know how she speaks to social justice through her picture books, specifically Each Kindness.

She told the story that led her to write Each Kindness. She was visiting her daughter’s 2nd grade classroom. A girl came in with striped pants on. Jacqueline admired her pants, but then she overheard another child tell this girl, “Why’d you wear those pants to school?” And the girl covered her pants with her jacket the rest of the day.

Jacqueline says you can’t be didactic with kids. You have to teach them through story, so she thought about how all of us at one time or other have probably said a mean thing that we could never take back. Each Kindness makes us think about what we say and the ripples our words may cause. I so admire Jacqueline for her social consciousness and for her gift of language.

Here is advice to writers from Jacqueline Woodson.

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Slice of Sunshine

Posted in Gratitude, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged art therapy, Great Flood of 2016, Louisiana, sunshine on August 16, 2016| 9 Comments »

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The rain started early Friday morning. I knew this was a serious rain because school was cancelled 5 minutes before I walked out the door. The rain stayed for days, falling in sheets for hours and hours. By Friday afternoon, the news media was calling this an Historic Flood. One of my colleagues posted on Facebook that her house was going under. I watched and waited. Finally a text came that she and her family were rescued and safe.

But the rain kept falling. By Saturday morning, I went into a panic. The bayou water had not risen this high in the 12 years we’d been living here, and neighbors said not in 20+ years. This was truly an historical event.

The sun peeks through the trees. Water is up to the back step.

We put the furniture up, rolled rugs, emptied book shelves, and watched and waited.

Sofas raised up on kitchen chairs. Mimi watches the sun come out.

Then on Sunday morning, the sun came out. The water was a few feet from our back door, but it hadn’t come in.

Not everyone in our area was as lucky. This incessant rain was worse than any hurricane. And the flood waters did not discriminate. Everyone here knows someone who is cleaning up today.

Painting the rain, collaborative work by a mother and son at the shelter.

In my gratitude, I went to the shelter in our City Park to help out with an art activity with the kids. It was crazy and messy and just what I needed.

Messy art is the best kind!

Today, I want to focus on the sunshine.

The sun will come out.
We know this is true.
There is always light after the rain.

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Slice of Life: Laughter

Posted in Gratitude, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged daughters, Happiness, Laughter on August 9, 2016| 18 Comments »

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As I get older, I am learning to appreciate a good laugh, even if it’s at my own expense. I am trying really hard to embrace this getting older thing. My birthday is this week, and I will be 55. There, I said it.

I enjoy listening to podcasts when I am driving, so this weekend on my drive to and from New Orleans, I listened. I will probably forget which exact podcast it was (that happens with age), but I think it was the TED Radio Hour about Time. Anyway, some researcher said that we get happier as we get older. I believe this is true, except, of course, if you get grumpier.

I believe I am happier now than I was ten years ago. My daughters are grown-ups and such delightful grown-ups they are. I am grateful for all that I have in my life, my husband of 34 years, 3 healthy, happy, successful daughters, and a mother-in-law who likes to celebrate birthdays with me in Africa.

My girls think I am hilarious. Mostly because I’m so stupid. The above picture was taken by daughter number 1 after I had taken a failed selfie with daughter number 3. I love how we laugh the same way.

I think it is time for me to embrace happiness. To realize that happiness is precious like gold, like the rainbow, like love.

I wish for you a day (a year, a life) full of laughter. There is no way to watch this scene from Mary Poppins and not laugh. Enjoy!

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Slice of Life: Lagniappe

Posted in Blogging, Digital Learning, Gratitude, Slice of Life, tagged DigiLit Sunday, Digital photography, Katherine Bomer, lagniappe on August 2, 2016| 20 Comments »

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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.

(more…)

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My Friend Loved Chickens

Posted in Blessen, Slice of Life, tagged chickens, Entropy Magazine, fiction writing, Lisa Meaux, teacher-writers on July 26, 2016| 18 Comments »

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It’s summer now. The sun sets more reluctantly than at any other time of the year, and as it slowly drops behind the canopy of live oaks and crepe myrtles, my remaining twelve hens drift nearer and nearer to the coop, pecking and scratching along in a lazy, singular unity.

I feel so strongly about these hens. As oblivious as they are to love and anything else that is neither food nor peril, they seem to carry with knowing authority the solutions to all mysteries, as our solutions are somehow in rosary beads, old pots, and June bugs. If they miss Passion, they don’t show it. Somewhere between earthworms and hawks, they carry on, finding the best spots for dust baths and squabbling over the grapes I feed them from my hand, until they inevitably make it home as the sun sets.

And rather than leave an empty space where Passion once perched on the roost, they will scoot closer to each other and fill it in, knowing that the world goes on and knowing — announcing, maybe, as Mary Oliver would say — their place in the family of things.

–Lisa Meaux, 1956-2016, excerpt from “The Birds: Passion” from Entropymag.org

My friend, Lisa Meaux, loved chickens. The above excerpt is from a short story she wrote about a friend and a chicken who both had ovarian cancer. The story is just like Lisa, a mix of the ironic and the tender.

I first met Lisa when I was working on my masters in gifted education. She was the lead teacher in a summer program in which I interned. As the years went by, Lisa found her way to the writing project, and our relationship grew around teaching and writing. Two years ago, she retired and married the love of her life. Little did any of us know that her life would end so soon.

On Saturday, I attended a beautiful gathering to celebrate her life at the Acadiana Center for the Arts. The stage was set with a portrait of Lisa holding one of her chickens. Two teacher-writers from her writing group read from a variety of pieces that told the story of Lisa. Her writing life centered around her love of her home, her animals, and her family. A fitting tribute to her through her own words.

Back in 2009, Lisa, Nettie, and I attended the New Orleans writing marathon. The marathon focus was fiction. I felt like such a novice at fiction writing, but the genre was comfortable to Lisa. I remember she wrote a story about a woman who leaves a piece of her clothing at various places in New Orleans and eventually walks into Lake Pontchartrain completely nude. It was a brilliantly crafted story.

At that retreat, Lisa gave me a gift of a bracelet of blue beads and thus the name for Blessen’s chicken, Blue. If it hadn’t been for Lisa, there would not have been a chicken in my story, or, for that matter, a story at all. She met with me to discuss my book and planted the seed that would become the theme for the book, “Death happens in threes.”

There is an empty space where Lisa lived. Her friends feel it. Her husband feels it. Her students feel it. Unlike her roosting chickens, I am not quite sure how to fill the space that belonged to her. I still struggle to know where I belong in the family of things. But I know this for sure: The world goes on, and I am a better person for having known and loved Lisa Meaux.

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Slice of Farm Life

Posted in Blogging, Slice of Life, Travel, Writing, tagged farm, NY, Slice of Life, Tara Smith, Washington County on July 19, 2016| 15 Comments »

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I don’t know how I have come to be so blessed. If you’ve been keeping up with my blog or Facebook posts, you know I spent two weeks in Tanzania, Africa, a gift from my amazing mother-in-law. And today, I am in upstate New York at Tara Smith’s farm. Like Tanzania, the nights and mornings are cool, and that alone is reason to leave South Louisiana in the mid-summer. Unlike Tanzania, this place is lush and hilly and green.

On the farm, I can breathe slowly. I feel an energy for just being present. Tara is a perfect hostess. She ran down the hill from her writing spot five minutes ago because I asked for a lap blanket. Our dinner was fresh and delicious beginning with Caprese salad and ending with sliced watermelon. This morning, blueberry pancakes, my favorite.

I was trying to remember how I got here. Not in a geographical sense, but when did I meet and become so attached to these friends? I am here with Tara, Julianne, and Kimberley. (They are each writing a post today about our time together.) The fact is I can trace each friend back to this very space, my blog. We met through a commitment to writing and sharing our lives with each other. Connections happen here that I do not plan or predict or that I even realize are happening until a day like today.

Julianne traveled from L.A. and I traveled from LA. to be together on a hill in Washington County, NY.

This is Tara’s house on the farm. It is as lovely and charming on the inside as you can see from the outside. I am back in time to a place of stillness and grace.

This is Sophie. Every farm needs a dog like Sophie, keeping watch and providing comfort.

The four of us are taking a break from talking to write our separate slices. Sharing our slices of life is what brought us all here to be present with each other, to make space for writing, and to enjoy the abundance of life. I am so grateful for Tara’s generosity, for this community of writers, and for this amazing gift of nature. I can believe the world is good. I can feel hope. I can be me.

Morning walk in the woods.

gentle moon

rising over the hills

abiding grace

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Tanzania Travel Journal #3

Posted in Slice of Life, Travel, Writing, tagged Maasai village, Overseas Adventure Travel, Tanzania on July 12, 2016| 10 Comments »

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Me with my new Maasai friend, Namitu.

Visiting the Maasai village was a moving and heartwarming experience. The Maasai tribe has managed to hold on to their traditions and culture in the midst of modernization in Tanzania. Some of the practices are controversial and should not be continued. Some, however, are kept as deep-seeded practices that define them as a people.

In the village, each woman in our group was matched with a tribal woman. They dressed us in traditional drapes and jewels. They taught us how to bead and weave baskets, to carry thatches on our heads, and to do some of the tasks of women.

My friend’s name was Namitu. She could speak limited English and asked my name. When I told her, she pointed to her 2-year old daughter and said, “My baby, Margaret.” This type of thing happened once before to Karen, a woman on our tour. I think this may be a way they honor us.

Learning to bead a bracelet

We walked to the cow pasture where men blooded a calf. Apparently, this does not harm the calf. They shoot a spear to the jugular vein. When the blood gushes, they catch it in a long gourd-like container that holds goat’s milk. I did not bravely partake, but a young traveler said it tasted like salty, creamy soup.

Blooding the calf

Another tradition that we participated in was a dance. This may have been a mating dance of sorts because Namitu asked me to pick a husband. Her little son held my hand and led me to a line of chanting men. One of these men turned and touched me shoulder to shoulder. If I had accepted this marriage proposal, I would have had to pay in cows. Wealth is measured in cows.

After all the festivities, we went into the chief’s hut to have a discussion of controversial issues. They allowed open discussion. Karen asked the Maasai woman (29 yrs old and mother of 3 daughters) if she was circumcised. She is, but now they are educated about this, so she will not pass this mutilation on to her daughters. Karen was so touched she rose and hugged and kissed the young woman. I was moved to tears. This practice should be stopped. Our guide assured us that as more and more of the Maasai are sent to school and educated, they learn of the practices that should be abandoned.

In the end, we were given the opportunity to shop for beaded items. I bought the circular ring Namitu made. She said it took her a month to bead it.
Even though this visit was organized to show us an enjoyable time, I felt the spirit of the Maasai and came to respect their culture. I hope they are able to keep the spirit of their traditions as they come to know and understand the world.

Laughter is universal!

This is my third Tanzania journal entry. To read about clay water filters, journal entry #1, click here. To read and enjoy a video of Tarangire animals, click here.

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Slice of Life: Daring Lessons

Posted in Slice of Life, tagged Ms., Old Agency Road, Ridgeland on June 21, 2016| 4 Comments »

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Teenagers are in the midst of brain development, and sometimes that part that says “This is dangerous” doesn’t work as well as it does in adults. My sister knows this and embraces it. My niece, Taylor, wanted to pose a photo shoot on an old historical road near my parents’ home in Mississippi.

I said, “How do you take a picture on a road without getting hit by a car?”

Taylor responded with complete confidence, “You wait until there are no cars. Then you run out into the street and snap a picture. It’s exhilarating!”

I actually think my sister is a brilliant mother. She encourages this dangerous behavior. She told me outside of Taylor’s earshot, “If that’s the most dangerous thing she wants to do, and she chooses to do it with me, I’m all in!”

I had to admit I wanted to be a part of it, too. So we set out to find Old Agency Rd. Luckily, a high school is located on the same road, so we found a safe place to park.

Traffic was light, so we got out and hiked through the brush on the side of the road.

Taylor has a GoPro camera that she used to take her road selfie. The rest of us were on lookout duty.

A nice young mother-type stopped her SUV next to me and rolled down her window. She wanted to warn me about the dangers of this road. “I’ve seen many cars run off the road. I live around here. You could get hit in seconds.”

“I know, we know.” I explained my niece’s idea and that we wouldn’t be long. She felt compelled to tell us. I understand. I’m a mother, too.

We survived. Taylor got her shot. And we did something that scared us that day. Actually, it was just. plain. fun.

Seize the day!

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Slice of Life: Where’s the Hope?

Posted in Slice of Life, Writing, tagged #Orlando, kindness, Lin-Manuel Miranda, R.J.Palacio on June 14, 2016| 9 Comments »

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As many of you are, I am having trouble getting my head around another mass shooting. What scares me most is the rhetoric that surrounds this tragic event. The talk of intolerance that perpetuates racism and fear.

I decided to look for hope. In the midst of tragedy, we must have hope. Hope is not denying the fear or the sadness. Hope allows for something new to come forth. Hope is like opening a window and hearing the cardinal singing. Hope is smelling the fresh air after the rain and knowing a rainbow is up there somewhere. Hope never fails.

Lin-Manuel Miranda’s acceptance speech at the Tony’s gives voice to what I am feeling.

We rise and fall and light from dying embers, remembrances that hope
and love last longer
And love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love
cannot be killed or swept aside.

From a letter written by R. J. Palacio, author of Wonder, to the school district of Round Rock on disinviting Phil Bildner to their schools:

The truth is, I’m tired of intolerance. I’m tired of the unkindness that breeds intolerance. I’m tired of the ignorance that fuels it and the fear that spreads it. We must all—authors, publishers, teachers, librarians, and school administrators—work together to stop intolerance in its tracks when we see it. Kindness can never grow where intolerance has taken root.

If all you did was watch TV news or scroll through social media, you may think that our world was in dire trouble. Terrorism, racism, hatred, intolerance…

But I look to my students, my own children, my colleagues, my friends and I see love, hope, and light. Please, please, please look for the light. Find the helpers. See the good in others. Hope is everything, my friends. Hold on tight to that feather.