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Archive for the ‘Slice of Life’ Category

Slice of Life Challenge

At one of my schools, I coordinate a leadership organization called “Paw Pride.”  Students are nominated by their teachers to be in this group.  Throughout the year, we participate in service-oriented projects.

Yesterday we took an end-of-the-year field trip to Avery Island, home of Tabasco sauce.  I love field trips.  Yes, they exhaust me, but the kids are so excited and can’t wait to learn and play.  This group worked hard and raised enough money for this treat.  Avery Island is in our own backyard.  We should know and learn about the products of our own area.

 

3D map

“Are we here?”

“Look!  There’s the warehouse!”

Seeing the overall, big picture on a 3D map intrigues the students.

 

salt barrels

The mash from the peppers are aged for three years.  Salt covers the tops of the barrels, slowly spicing the aging peppers. At the factory store, students sampled different Tabasco flavors and even Tabasco ice cream.

 

bird city 3

In 1895, the snowy egret was nearly wiped out by plume hunters.  E. A. McIlhenny created Bird City, a nesting ground for these majestic birds. I took this picture from the high look-out deck. It was a nice climb but worth it for this view.

Paw Pride with Buddha

E. A. McIlhenny acquired a gift of an ancient Buddha statue in 1936. The statue is surrounded by authentic Asian flora.  Visiting the Buddha is a highlight of any Avery Island field trip.

Jungle gardens

Jungle Gardens is often used for wedding photos, and you can see why. This is a beautiful setting just beyond the Buddha statue in Jungle Gardens.  At this point, the students had disappeared into a wooded area.  I sent a parent chaperone after them.  The magic of this place drew them in.  A wonderful way to celebrate May, these students were able to spend a day outside of the classroom learning about a locally made product as well as enjoying the beauty of nature.

 

 

 

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Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

Emerging from 30 days of poetry, words eluded me.  I looked outside for inspiration.  With my camera in hand, I captured the natural meaning of the word saturated.  

Reflections in the flood by Margaret Simon

Reflections in the flood by Margaret Simon

 

After three days of incessant rain, I am saturated.
The ground below is just a shadow.
My words are hiding there.

Resurrection Fern by Margaret Simon

Resurrection Fern by Margaret Simon

Fern glistens in the emerging sun.
Beauty finds me
speechless.

Lizard face-off by Margaret Simon

Lizard face-off
by Margaret Simon

Like these lizards,
face to face
puff up and show their true colors,
I dive back in,
searching for the light.

Bayou Sunspot by Margaret Simon

Bayou Sunspot
by Margaret Simon

When I am not even trying, poetry finds me.  In reflection of her month-long poem-a-day writing, Violet Nesdoly posted this quote from Annie Dillard.

Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes. – Annie Dillard

 

I turn to poetry when I feel inadequate.  When I’m not sure what to write, creating a verse moves me forward.  So here I am again, no challenge, no poem-a-day, just me, opening the page,  and giving freely, so my writing will not turn to ashes.  

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Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

NPM2016

Here I am again at this blank page.  I click to “add media,” setting the stage for yet another poem.

I find myself looking all day long for inspiration.  Will it come in the opening of a flower?  The words of a child? Advice from a friend?  The pages of a book?

I look and look.

Sometimes I open this page afraid that nothing will happen.

But something always does.  Because when you show up to the page, magic happens.

purple forest

A video posted by “Access Oneness” and shared by two Facebook friends intrigued me.  The inscription read, “So, you lose balance and you fall … but, what do you do next? Stop? Or go on? Make art out of falling …”

Go to this link to view the video.

I was caught off-guard, unbalanced, not knowing what to feel except inspired, exhilarated.

The words flowed.

In the purple forest
one can climb
stand
slip
fall
rise again
All in the moment
of stillness
above the water
A choice
to fall
and fail,
or balance
and dance–
A chance
to fly.

–Margaret Simon

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NPM2016

During this monthlong survey of poetry, there is trouble.

So many decisions to make.

What should I teach today?
Line breaks,
literary elements,
limericks?

I want to say stop to
sing-song rhymes
and simple forms.

Then one turns to another and says,
“Let’s write a rap abecedarian.”

Like the messiness of art class,
the instructor must allow
for paint splatters and stains,
for stalled-out cinquains
and skip-to-my-loos.

Poetry is hard.
Poetry is easy.
There are rules in poetry.
There are no rules:
Let the poem find its way.
This is the trouble with poetry.
This is the joy of poetry.

–Margaret Simon

Follow the Progressive Poem to  Charles Waters.

Follow the Progressive Poem to Charles Waters.

 

 

 

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NPM2016

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

We brought out the paintbrushes and watercolor paints.  Each table had a stack of white paper.  I turned on the music.  Painting flowed in time with the beat.

This is dancing with a paintbrush.  When the music stops, we title the piece of art and list three words that come to mind.  This continues for three rounds.  The songs are all instrumental, one sounds oriental, another symphonic, and another Irish.

Following this painting activity, we write.

Freedom of expression, playing with words, making associations with music and poetry, the resulting poems went in all kinds of directions. (My students share their poems on Kidblog.)

In reading Tara Smith’s book review of Writing with Mentors, I pulled out this piece of advice: “Mentors Show Students How to Play: In order to grow as writers, students need safe places to play with writing – places that aren’t assessed or evaluated or given a grade.  They need places where their work can be messy, where thinking outside the box and being wild with ideas is encouraged.”

When I was struggling to write a poem with my painting, I turned to a favorite author, Mary Oliver.  From A Thousand Mornings, “Poem of the One World” begins “This morning/ the beautiful white heron/ was floating along above the water.”

Writing beside this master poet helped me to follow the rhythm that my own words wanted to take.

This longing
the beautiful white egret
wanders from known to unknown waters

And then
onto the shore of this
one stream we all swim in

where everyone
is part of the blue vein
where we can throw a stone in

which thought made me feel
for a small moment
welcomed home.

–Margaret Simon, after Mary Oliver

Dancing with a paintbrush

The abstract painting that led to my poem.

 

Follow the Progressive Poem to Today's Little Ditty

Follow the Progressive Poem to Today’s Little Ditty

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NPM2016

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

Day 5 is at Penny and Her Jots

Day 5 is at Penny and Her Jots

napo2016button2

Writing poems can be serious business. The first day back after spring break I asked my students to think hard about poetry. We read together a poem from the Teaching Guide for the River of Words Young Poets and Artists on the Nature of Things. (Handout 4:Writing from film) I highly recommend this guide for great poetry lessons written by my friends Harriet Maher and Connie McDonald.

The poem spoke in an ominous tone about the destruction of our earth. Students picked out these word, demented, shattered, purged, and monsters, as negative tone words. They noticed that the poem was a sad commentary on what we humans do to our earth home.

Then I played the first 8 minutes of the documentary of Ansel Adams.

While we watched the video, we collected words and phrases. We all wrote poems. Many of the students’ poems reflected the negative tone of the poem we read together. My favorite student poem is from Erin. She wrote how the silence was too loud. You can read her poem here.

Free image from Wikipedia.

Free image from Wikipedia.

Ansel Adams, 1902-1984

The artist transformed
moments into wild majesty
expressing in
exalted language of photography
how small we really are.

Among the tall trees
or the great mountains,
our humanness is separate–
a communion in the presence
of mystery.

Even in the absence of color,
in shades of black and white,
fragments are shattered
into a mosaic of truth.

We understand the fragile nature of things.

–Margaret Simon

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Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.

Join the Spiritual Thursday round up at Reading, Teaching, Learning.

Today is the last day of March.  I find it hard to believe that I have actually written a blog post every day in March.  The Slice of Life Challenge is just that, a challenge.  Thank you for reading and responding.

Appropriately for this day, Spiritual Thursday’s one little word is Donna Smith’s word BOLD.   Being bold is what it takes to put yourself and your life out there for the world to see.

So here I am thinking about continuing a bold move toward the month of April.  April is National Poetry Month.  What should I do but write a poem a day?  I’ve posted my blog here at NaPoWriMo and committed to the challenge.   I will be writing poems to images.  #imagepoems

Would you consider joining me?  No pressure.  No rules.  Just drafting and playing with words inspired by images.  You can use your own images or write about mine.  If I get my act together, I may post the next day’s image in the post.

I draw inspiration from other brave writers like Elisabeth Ellington.  She wrote a two word poem about her son yesterday.  Read the post here.

This is my bold statement about the Slice of Life Challenge in a two word list poem.

I’m here
this page
torn out
left open
for you
a slice
of life
nothing special
ordinary days
my story
your story
we connect
ideas flow
ideas stop
one moment
in time
leads to
friends talking
laughing with
crying with
loving with
each other
Slices done
bold words
left here
for you
and me.

Image for April Fool’s Day:

I was shopping in Ann Taylor Loft. This is what I found in the bathroom.

I was shopping in Ann Taylor Loft. This is what I found in the bathroom.

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Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

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.

 

Pop in studio

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. 

Pop Studio view

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.”

 

Pop drawing

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.

 

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Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

Porch sitting

Porch sitting

Porch sitting
alone or with family
refreshes a tired mind.

Listen to the trickle of water
from the fountain,
the calls of fishermen in the distance.

Turtles on the bank
sunbathe, while Pop
tells us they are gathering oxygen.

I gather oxygen here, too,
and find the questions of
life easier to bear.
–Margaret Simon

Spring on the lake

Spring on the lake.

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Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.

buttercups

 

Bad things continue to happen.  Bad things always happen.  Last week, my friend’s home was destroyed in a fire.  When I stopped by her hair salon to take her a bag of clothes and to offer some comfort, she said, “We’re going to be OK.”

I know she’s right.  We are all OK.

One Good Friday 37 years ago when I was a senior in high school, our house flooded.  I didn’t know it would be OK.  We left everything in haste to escape the rising waters.  The car stalled halfway down the street.  My family was rescued and, in the aftermath, well cared for by friends.  But we lost our home and many of our belongings.  We went back in a boat to rescue our pets.  There were sad moments during those days.  Many times I asked if we would be OK.

Weeks later when the flood waters had receded, 21 people from our church showed up to clean out our house.  Things were sorted.  Things were thrown away.  As I walked around my house to the window by my bedroom, something caught my eye.  It was a stick.  It was my stick.

As a teenager, I attended youth retreats with our church’s youth group. At one of these retreats I had picked up a branch and stripped it of its bark.  I carried it around like a talisman.  The stick came to symbolize finding my way in the world.  But lying on the soggy ground outside among the muddy debris, the stick meant that everything was going to be OK.

On Easter Sunday, the priest’s message was this: Everything is going to be OK.  And even in the tragedies, the times when things do not seem OK, the resurrection assures us that it will be.

 

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