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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.

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Reading, Writing, Judging

Posted in Slice of Life, Writing, tagged judging writing, LA Writes on June 7, 2016| 7 Comments »

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Reading, reading, reading…

The unmistakable voice of my daddy checked me out of the Anxious Hotel and back into reality. Elizabeth Tow, 8th grade

In the midst of the stacks of student-written stories about monsters and disasters and parents dying in car crashes, there were a few gemstones.

Monday was the annual LA Writes judging at my home. Teachers gathered around fruit and muffins and coffee to read 622 entries from Kindergarten to 12th grade writers from around our state.

Amidst the state standards and curriculum mandates, we writing teachers hold out hope that someone is cultivated creative writing in their classrooms. Interestingly, most of the best writers came from only a few teachers. Either these are the teachers keeping writing alive or these are the teachers who take the time to enter students in contests.

I have been coordinating the LA Writes contest for a dozen years, and I look forward to this day every year. I get to see some of my favorite teacher-friends and share my home with them. We talk and read, read and talk.

We find favorite lines. My friend, Nettie picked these lines to share.

The radio comes alive like low heeled boots. By Lily Adam

Alone together in a room for all
A kiss meets lips like stroking midnight buds. by Jasper Koelbel

Resting on the back of a goose wing, trying to blend into the cream colored feathers. By Rangasri Narayanamoorthy

When we started this contest, we created an acronym for our judging criteria with the word VOICES.

Voice
Originality/ surprise
Imagery/ figurative language
Clarity
Economy
Significance/ insight

As a teacher, I am in tune to these elements and encourage my young writers to reach not only for clear and precise writing, but writing that sings and makes the reader look at something in a new and surprising way. These elements are hard to teach, but we all know good writing when we see it. My students know good writing. They don’t always know how to name it, but they know it when they see it.

Yesterday we culled the stacks and stacks of writing down to 5-10 in each category in each grade-level division. It was hard work. It was good work. We will send these finalists on to our author judges, authors from our state including our new state poet laureate. We hope that they will see the gemstones that we saw and enjoy the looking.

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Slice of Life: Are you Bored Yet?

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged blueberry picking, summer on May 31, 2016| 16 Comments »

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I just got off the phone with my mother-in-law who asked me if I was bored yet. I laughed. Well, I did clean the grout on the bathroom floor. Does that mean I’m bored?

Actually, my summer list is long and growing. This morning I accomplished one of my goals, blueberry picking. I do this every year the week after school gets out because this is the time when the blueberries ripen. In 2014, I wrote a poem about this ritual that begins with…

Some things wear their becoming,
like this blueberry, for example,
plump and perfectly indigo
surrounded by pinky-red brothers and sisters,
it boasts to be chosen
falls easily into my palm
joyfully plinks the plastic bucket.

See the rest of the poem here.

My friend Suzanne came along. She couldn’t believe she had never done this before. It was fun to share the joy of fresh blueberries with her. Here is the Facebook page for Bayou Blues Blueberry Farm.

A Painteresque view of me picking blueberries.

Blueberry sky

Kitchen brightened by fresh fruit and fresh flowers.

Slowing down, enjoying simple things, and savoring summer days. No, I’m not bored yet.

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Slice of Life: New Life

Posted in Slice of Life, tagged goslings, nature, New Castle Lake, new life on May 24, 2016| 14 Comments »

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A mallard nest on the island.

My mother told me the story of discovering the goose nest. She had gone out to the island, a small piece of land they had separated from their property years ago to solve the erosion/marsh issue. She sat down in a lawn chair and was surprised to see a female Canada goose sitting in the brush. Ah, she must be nesting.

My parents avoided the island but watched daily as the male guarded the space where the female sat on the nest.

Then I came for a visit. On Saturday morning, I was looking toward the island and noticed both the male and female were walking around… and there were little fuzzy thinks walking around them. Goslings! They hatched!

We grabbed the binoculars and squealed with excitement.

I snuck out with my camera and telephoto lens to capture the scene. The parents led their babies out for their first swim, and I caught it on video.

On Sunday other Canada geese families came by to visit and welcome the new goslings.

Why are we so fascinated by new life?

For weeks now I have been following Cynthia Lord’s daily Facebook posts about her bunny babies. My daughter’s best friend had a baby last week, and we can’t get enough pictures. Everywhere there is new life, and it is thrilling.

Mom and I chatted constantly about the baby goslings. We grieved when we saw there were only four when originally there were five. Even though this life and death is a part of every day in nature, we still marvel at it all.

Creation is an amazing thing. We want to feel that newness of birth. We delight in seeing something so small mimic its parents. Don’t you look forward to all the firsts?

I was sitting out on the back porch reading. I hadn’t seen the geese or goslings for some time. I heard a splash and looked up to see one of the goslings jumping from the bridge into the water. I called to Mom, “Guess what I just saw!?”

New life tells us that there is a generosity in this world.

There will be another hatching soon. On the day I was leaving, Mom and I walked out to the island to see the abandoned nest. I wanted to take a picture of it. As we were talking, a flutter of wings flew up from the brush and flew into the lake. A mother mallard. There we saw her nest of 10 shiny white eggs.

I probably won’t be at the lake when these ducklings hatch, but I can be sure that Mom will call me with a report. New life is God’s way of saying life must go on. It’s also just. plain. joy.

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Winding Down

Posted in Slice of Life on May 17, 2016| 17 Comments »

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When I read the words winding down, I think of the energizer bunny. We just keep going and going all year long and now the battery is running low.

I had to power down my phone to use less battery power. I think I’ve done that to myself. I’m running on low battery power.

Good thing there are only a few days of school left. We are in the midst of final reports, awards, field day, and packing up the classroom for summer cleaning.

There’s the part of me that will miss the routine. Routines become comfort zones. I know what’s expected of me. Duty day, class schedule, lunch break, carpool line, all dependable time zones.

There’s this other part of me that craves the no-schedule of what my husband calls “the big weekend.”

I usually create a schedule: exercise, reading, writing, cleaning, etc. I always think I’ll have time to do the such-and-such that I didn’t do during the school year. I will read professional books. I will make an art journal. I’ll write a book of poetry.

This week I’ll say goodbye. I’ll pack my bag for the last time. Then I’ll plug in to the charger and re-juice my battery with summer.

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Avery Island, Jungle Gardens, and Tabasco

Posted in Slice of Life, Teaching, Writing, tagged Avery Island, field trip on May 10, 2016| 7 Comments »

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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Slice of Life: Saturated

Posted in Photography, Poetry, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged Annie Dillard, Bayou Teche, nature poem on May 3, 2016| 18 Comments »

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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

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

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

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

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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NPM16: #26 Oneness

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged #NPM16, Access Oneness video, Poem a Day on April 26, 2016| 13 Comments »

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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.

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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NPM16: #19 The Trouble with Poetry

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, Teaching, Writing, tagged teaching poetry on April 19, 2016| 8 Comments »

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.

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NPM16 #12 Dancing with a Paintbrush

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, Teaching, Writing, tagged #imagepoems, music poems, NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Month, Poem a Day on April 12, 2016| 6 Comments »

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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