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Archive for the ‘Slice of Life’ Category

Skinny Odes

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, tagged , , , on May 15, 2012| 2 Comments »

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In my classroom, things are winding down to the last day, and we are only on P in our journey through the ABCs of poetry.   Yesterday, we wrote skinny odes for the letter O.  The skinny ode lesson I used was from a master poetry teacher, the late Sandford Lyne.  Sandy was so good at front loading, getting us ready to write.  I often rush through this step.  But on Monday, I decided to take the full ride, no short cuts.  So I read a few Pablo Neruda odes along with some other models Sandy had given us.  Then I led a full brainstorm exercise.  The questions asked about everything from shape to taste with many other questions in between, 16 in all.  The kids grumbled about all the questions, but they worked.  We writers had plenty of ideas for writing our skinny odes. The trick when writing skinny odes is to fold the paper hotdog style down the center and not to write over the line.  This keeps your lines short or skinny.   I will feature my ode and one of my students, a third grade gifted writer.

Ode to a Student

O, how you look
with curiosity
at the pages
of your book,
studying, learning,
making crevices in your brain.
How can I reach in?
Will you listen to me?
Enter my room in
wonder, ready
to create, think,
question, answer,
be yourself.

Can we walk together?
Forge ahead,
make new inventions,
new ideas,
write new stories?
Together, not as parent
and child, but coach
and team.
Shout the cheer!
The world is ready
to hear you.
Be kind.
Discover horizons.
Make known
your potential.
Be the best
you can be!

Ode to a Canvas
by Kylon

White rectangle,
my hands stretch over it.
I stroke it with a dry brush,
light strokes
testing myself,
testing my painting skills.
Paint finally collides
creating sprouts of orange and red.
The rectangle’s blanketed now.
Paint everywhere,
a season on material.
Coats and layers,
swirls of yellow
leaves fly back and forth,
a fall masterpiece.

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Writing with Jack

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, tagged , , , on May 8, 2012| 2 Comments »

This weekend our family gathered for the graduation of my youngest daughter from college.  What a whirlwind of events and emotions!  One of the treats for me was spending time with my nephew, Jack, who, at the end of his first grade year, is beginning to learn about the power of his words.  To my delight, his teacher uses writers’ workshop.  Prominently posted on the family refrigerator is Jack’s latest composition, a three-paged story about his two dogs.  He used words like “mischievous” and distinguished the two dogs as one is a “licker” and the other a “sniffer.”

Jack has his mother’s old iPhone.  Even with a cracked face, he enjoys using it to email.  So we started an email exchange.  He started with a typo that led to a little poem.  Being a poetry fan as well as a teacher, I prompted him on to create another poem.  I have transposed our exchange here.  Jack’s words are italicized.

I’m so gladys…

I’m so gladys, too, but mostly I love my Jacky.

I’m so gladys, too, but mostly I love you.

When we’re together,

We like to

Read, talk, and tell stories.

We tell our stories at night

When all is calm and quiet.

What is your favorite story?

Magic treehouse deep sea ocean.

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Grossblank Challenge

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, tagged , , , on May 1, 2012| 8 Comments »

I kind of gave up on the 30 Day Poetry Challenge, not intentionally, but life got in the way.  I got stuck on one challenge, then just plain refused to write a poem about a car, so I quit.  I did not, however, give up on challenging my students to write a different poetic form each day.  And I write with them, so technically I am still taking the poetry challenge.

In our classroom ABC daily poem challenge, we were on G on Thursday.  The only poetic form I could find for G was a Grossblank.  Grossblank is a poem with 12 lines of 12 syllables (a gross) written in blank verse, no rhyme.  Because I thought this form was particularly challenging, I allowed them to write a quarter Grossblank, 6×6.  Also to help bait the poetry fishing hook, I gave them lists of wordgroups, a technique introduced to me by my poet-friend-mentor Sandford Lyne.  So with groups of words in hand and fingers for counting, we got to work on our poems.

Once again, my students amazed me.  My fifth grader and sixth grader took the full challenge.  Kaylie is obsessed (and that’s putting it mildly) with Hunger Games.  Her poem, while it draws on the theme of the series, can stand alone.  Colby is new to my class, but he is slowly discovering his inner poet.  His poem draws a deeper meaning while he contemplates mirage and reality, a quite sophisticated theme, I think, for a sixth grader.  If you enjoy their poetry, please leave a comment that I can share with them.  They would love to hear from you.

But What’s to Come
by Kaylie
(inspired by and dedicated to the Hunger Games)

At sunrise, she runs, barefoot, in leaves of green, words
do not come to mind. She dunks under the fence, into
the woods, where stores are not seen, and hunger isn’t
abroad. Where no trespassing takes place. Into dreams,
she runs past men and voices, beyond the breaking
dawn, into a swirl of familiar places.
She lifts her bow at a rustle, her arrow finds
a home in a rabbit’s eye. She gathers berries
of the sweetest aroma, breath in the air, hush.
Out of the woods, names are called, unpromising to
the tributes, for they must survive to be victors.
Through the darkest times, many deaths will come alive.

The Magic Touch
by Colby
Along the road in the hot summer sun, a dog,
a mirage in the dust wandering in his wake.
The heat is unbearable with the sun floating,
unforgiving in the open. No shade in the still.
Starting to feel abandoned. Far, far, away. Fear
in his soul like a pup separated, detached
from its kin. The miraged dog leading the lonely.
Walking barefoot in along the trails through thick dust.
He walks and roams in spite of hunger and fatigue.
Still he follows the dog, his wake, his destiny.
The dog is getting closer. It’s close enough to
touch.The man speeds up inching ever closer. Touch. Oasis.

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On Becoming an Author

Posted in Blessen, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged , , on April 24, 2012| 6 Comments »

Read other Slice of Life writers at The Two Writing Teachers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For a long time, I have wanted to be a writer.  I recently found my teenage diary and in it I had written some really bad rhyming poetry.  But at the bottom of the page I found this.

"I would love to be a writer if only someone would give me confidence!"

When do we let go of our dreams?  The summer following this diary entry, I volunteered for a program called “Operation Life Enrichment.”  The program was designed to enrich the lives of underprivileged children who had difficulty with reading.  That experience led me to a path of becoming a teacher.  The writer in me did not go away, but she was buried deep within.

In 1995, I had the privilege of being selected for the National Writing Project’s Summer Institute.  We were a group of fellow teachers writing about our lives and learning from each other.  The motto of the NWP, “A teacher of writing is a writer,” went straight to my heart.

One of my favorite writing project events has been an annual “writing marathon” in New Orleans led by the Southeastern Writing Project.  For three days, teacher-writers gather to be practicing writers.  In the summer of 2009, the focus was on fiction.  I spent the days with two other women.  We wrote, read, revised, and each created a fiction short story.  I began to feel like a fiction writer.

Not long after the New Orleans writing marathon, I attended a fiction workshop with Sharon Arms Doucet, author of Fiddle Fever and Alligator Sue.  The workshop took place an hour away.  As I drove Highway 31 along the Bayou Teche, the story of Blessen began in my mind.  I passed True Friend Road.  I saw a row of crape myrtle trees.

From where I stand next to the chicken coop, I can see Pawpee’s old house and the two rows of crape myrtles in full bloom lining the gravel driveway. Pawpee still trims those trees every fall with a cherry picker from his wheelchair. He says he’s topping the trees to make the blossoms fan out like a fiery bouquet.

While at the workshop, I wrote the first chapter.  On our lunch break, the owner of the restaurant retold a story that became the Piggly Wiggly scene for Chapter 2.

Fiction is born of real life, the stories we hear and the ones we imagine.  Over the years, I grew to know and love Blessen.   When I listened, she told me about her life.  I believe in her story.  I am so proud to have her come alive in my first young readers novel.  I hope one day you will come to know and love her, too.

Link to Blessen’s Facebook page.

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A Day in Haiku

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, tagged , , on April 4, 2012| 2 Comments »

30 Day Poetry Challenge Day 4: Write a haiku (a three line poem where the first line has 5 syllables, the second line has 7 syllables, and the third line has 5 syllables). Haiku are often about nature, but yours can be about anything.

During the March Slice of Life Challenge, a fellow slicer wrote a series of haiku about his day: Kevin’s Meandering Mind

The storm woke me up at 4:30.  The dog, Charlie, was upset.  I decided to enable his insecurities and cuddle with him on the couch.

Wakened by the storm,
Frightened, we cuddle safely
in each others’ arms.

It’s Spring Break this week, Holy Week.  I scheduled a facial and massage at the spa.

Melting cares away
Massage relieves all tension
relaxation time

Looking out on the bayou after the storm, I saw this egret fishing in the bog behind our house.

Stealthily steps in
egret fishes, alert with
head poised for the catch.

One of the goals of my week off was to repaint my bathroom.  Today, I went to the paint store.

Pick a paint color
Refresh my bathroom walls with
Gratifying Green.

My after school writing students do not have their break until next week, so they came over to write.

Counting syllables
Grace, Isabell, and Patrick
write their best haiku.

Living on the bayou, I watch the daily barge pass by.  Today’s barge was named Louisiana Sunrise.

Watch the barge go by
Louisiana Sunrise
churns the brown bayou.

Can you make a haiku of your day?

Taking the back way
Paddling on the water-way
soft bayou sunset

This video was posted by the 30 Day Poetry Challenge.  It speaks to the art of Western Haiku.

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Blackberry Time

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, tagged , , on April 3, 2012| 5 Comments »

30 Day Poetry Challenge #3: Find the nearest book.  Turn to page 8.  Copy the first ten words and create a poem.

From page 8 of The Hunger Games: “a few blackberries from the bushes around us. And may…”

Blackberry Time

A few blackberries from the bushes
around us and may
I hold the flavor
on my tongue
now turning purple.
The juice running down through
my fingers staining
my jeans.  The vine grows
like a weed
among thorns
with this small gift of plump purple bites
never asking permission
to invade the flower bed.
Like the love of a teenager,
sweetness grows out of pain.

And a prompt from Bud the Teacher: “Some apples are gifts for special people.  Others are poison.  Which one is this?”

Comment: Sometimes when kids leave home, they leave behind disgusting things.

An Apple

Did you leave
the half-eaten apple
in the drawer behind
the peaches
rotting slowly?

Now that you are gone,
shall I take a bite
to remember you by?
No one is worth
the risk.

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Full Moon Alert

Posted in Slice of Life, Uncategorized, Writing, tagged , on March 31, 2012| 2 Comments »

Read other Slice of Life writers at The Two Writing Teachers

Happy Birthday to my naturalist friend, Jim Foret. You keep me on the alert for full moons, endangered trees, and nesting birds. You inspire everyone you know to be more alert. Here’s a little poem for you:

Full Moon Alert
for Jim Foret

The full moon rises
glorious among
a respectable row of planets–
pregnant moon.

The alert comes again.

He is the custodian of the night sky–
calendar keeper—
friend to the birds, the bogs,
butterflies and bees.

He counts the Purple Martins,
announces the Mississippi Kites.
He hears the sacred drumbeat,
tells the stories, and inspires all.

Humbly hold someone’s hand
and show her the moon.

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Student of the Year

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, Writing, tagged , , , on March 30, 2012| Leave a Comment »

I am so proud to be the teacher of the Louisiana Regional Student of the Year. I am privileged to teach gifted students. This means that once a student is identified as gifted, I pull them out for services each year throughout elementary school. I have had Kaylie in my class now for 2 1/2 years. We have gotten very close. On Tuesday, she found out she had won the Regional Student of the Year. First she was nominated by her school, then she competed at the parish level, then the regional level. Now she will be in competition for the State Student of the Year. This is a pretty amazing accomplishment for an 11 year old girl. She is amazing, though.

On Wednesday, Kaylie came early to class. We sat quietly absorbing the news. She told me she gets two free nights’ stay in Baton Rouge and a savings bond. She looked at me and gently said, “It’s because of you that I got this.”

I gave her a hug and said, “I don’t believe that for one minute.” But she went on to explain. She said she was not a writer when she came to my classroom. I made her a writer. That statement has been my lifelong goal.

Once at a turning point in my teaching career, my husband asked me point blank, “What do you want to do?”
I responded, “I want to teach writing. One day I want to hear an author on NPR thank me.”

Kaylie isn’t on NPR…yet. But this moment made my heart swell. I opened the door. She has stepped in royally. Writing is a major component of the Student of the Year competition. At each level, she has to write an essay on a prompt in a given amount of time. Obviously, she does not give in to the pressure. What a gifted writer she is!

Kaylie has won a number of writing contests. The most memorable for me was the LA Writes! state youth writing contest. She won first place with a poem she wrote in my class. We were celebrating National Poetry Month and the daily challenge was to write a bad poem. I used Billy Collins’ poem Litany as inspiration. Kaylie went to the computer and composed this brilliant first place poem:

Perfect Nonsense

*after Billy Collins’ Litany

You can be the watering pail in the pine tree.

You can be the left shoe on the roof.

You can even be-somehow-just-maybe the buttered slice of burnt toast on a Sunday morning.

You are NOT the billowing clouds.

You are DEFINITELY NOT the sandy aftertaste when a wave knocks you down.

And you are most DEFINITELY CERTAINLY ABSOLUTELY TRULY NOT the pancake swimming in syrup on the hottest day of the year.

Whereas I, I am the dandelion that gently blows away.

I am your mamma’s ruby red lipstick for dinner at her best friend’s house on Thursday night.

And, as you know, I am the spit-on microphone that sits lazily in the studio.

I am me.

You are you.

We are US.


A link to Kaylie’s Slices of Life.

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Where I’m From

Posted in Poetry, Slice of Life, Writing on March 29, 2012| 12 Comments »

Read other Slice of Life writers at The Two Writing Teachers

Teaching poetry and writing poetry can be frustrating and hard.  We struggle together trying to make our words sound right.  Yesterday I tried to write a rhyming poem about writing poems.  I got advice from my students. When I read it to them, they smiled apologetically as if they were saying, “I love you, Mrs. Simon, but that poem’s no good.”

So I tried a “Where I’m From” poem, the form inspired by George Ella Lyon.  My after school kids were successful, and they cheered at mine.  So we are sharing them with you.

Where I’m From

I am from ladder-back chairs around the kitchen table,
from Ding-Dongs and ham sandwiches in a baggie.

I am from the back porch swing and telling stories,
from tall pine trees, St. Augustine grass, and the Sycamore.

I’m from “Bless this food,”
music in the left hand,
from Dorothy and John.

I ‘m from dinner at the dining table, and Tiger football,
from “sit up like a person,” and “elbows off the table.”
I’m from cornbread dressing, green peas, and pecan pie.

I’m from the river overflow of the great Mississippi
to the barge on the bayou,
Southern girl with Southern strength,
holding on to time.

Where I’m From
by Grace

I am from healthy foods, Dial soap, and Crest toothpaste.
I am from a field of sugarcane, growing tall and sweet.

I am from an old oak in the back,
azaleas in the front, irises around the pond.

I am from opening one present on Christmas Eve
and blond moments with Donna and Mallory.

I am from Sunday mass at eleven and
lots of football watching.

I am from “Keep your elbows off the table,”
and “Shoot fire!”

I am from fights with my dad over Oreos, and
with my mom and sister over artichokes.

I live in a big white house surrounded by love and
more animals than most people I know.

Where I’m From
by Darby

I am from the Lazyboy couch,
from biscuits and bacon.

I am from the flower garden with bright summer colors,
from wine vineyards and orange trees.

I am from the math wizards, Stanley and Kory.

I am from Sunday Catholic church.
I am from always use your manners
to the Golden Rule.

I am from the pizza eaters.
I am from always finding the bright side of life.

(Quote of the day from Darby when we were making pre-writing lists: “I like to write poems, but I don’t like to think about them.”)

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Chicago Bound

Posted in Slice of Life, tagged , on March 28, 2012| 7 Comments »

Read other Slice of Life writers at The Two Writing Teachers

Our youngest daughter, Martha, will graduate from college in May with a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology.  This year has been all about selecting a graduate school.  Her goal is to get a Masters in Social Work.  She researched and found that Chicago has the top program.  So she applied.  When she was filling out the application in December, I never imagined that she would get in, and we would have the difficult job of telling her she couldn’t go.

So, you guessed it, she got in.  And she was given a scholarship; however, the scholarship would only cover close to one third of the total cost.  Our answer was no.  Too much money for a degree in a field that doesn’t make much money.  And loans were out of the question.

Weeks went by as Martha waited to hear from other schools.  She received an acceptance from University of Texas and was turned down by University of Washington.  We were rooting for the UT option.  After all, my husband is a former Longhorn.  But Martha had other plans, or rather, other dreams.

Chicago came through with a work-study program that made a small difference in the cost.  She talked to her father.  She is the baby of the family, after all.  That was not the only thing going for her.  She knows what she wants and why she wants it.   We decided to meet the amount Chicago was offering and allow her to borrow the rest.

Now I have to get used to it.  Not an easy task.  It’s really not about the money.  My paycheck has been paying tuition for a long time.  What’s two more years?  So why am I having so much trouble with the idea?  Do I think she’s not old enough to go to a big city like Chicago?  Is it the harsh winter weather that scares me?

I think part of me is just plain jealous.  She is getting to live her dream.  I never would have had the opportunity, nor did I even think about it.  I’ve never dreamed that big.  I both envy and admire her for being so strong-willed to think Chicago was a possibility and to make it all happen.   I am proud of her beyond belief.  And to be completely honest, I’ll miss her terribly.  To quote God’s message to me when I was sending my first off to the big city of New Orleans, “She is not leaving you.”

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