Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
When something bad happens, something that brings you harshly back to reality, letting you know one day you will lose the life you have now, look for butterflies.
Two weeks before, when all was blooming and life was full of daily walks among wildflowers, we took into our classroom black swallowtail larvae.
This is a dependable cycle, metamorphosis, changing, eating itself into a chrysalis, camouflaged, unrecognizable.
Then like a miracle, beauty breaks free out of nature’s cage reminding us we long for flight.
Black Swallowtail Butterfly released into our school garden. photo by Margaret Simon
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Mother’s Day is a hard day for many women. My Mother’s Day was hard this year. That hard was unexpected. I have three daughters who are each mothers now. Isn’t that something to celebrate? Yes, of course. Not to mention my beautiful grandchildren! My husband and I made a small effort to celebrate his mother with lunch and gifts of plants. I am in the middle, not really a mother anymore. Not mothered anymore. The above quote talks about this shift. It’s big and hard.
Elizabeth Gilbert sent a prompt for her followers to write from: “Dear Love: What would you have me know about mothers today?” Here is a portion of my letter from Love.
You want to keep your arms wide for them, but you can close them around yourself. You have to become lovable only to yourself now. There is freedom and grace in this stage. You did your best. You left your loveseed and fertilized it to grow in them as mothers. Turn your loving toward home, dear one. Open arms are there for you.
My own mother, as many of you know, is living with Alzheimer’s. I have opened a fundraiser page for The Longest Day, an event for the Alzheimer’s Association. I think all of us have been touched by Alzheimer’s. You can donate at my personal page here. For a $50 donation, my ADK sisters and I have made purple beaded bracelets.
Here is a photo my brother sent of my mother from Mother’s Day at her memory care home.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
We are nearing the end of the school year, so last week I panicked. I have to get the end-of-the-year narrative writing done for my SLT (Student Learning Target). I’m calmer now because yesterday I realized while working with my second grader that there has been growth, even while I wasn’t really paying attention. He completely filled one page and has more to say.
My students write a Slice of Life every week. They post on a blog site formerly known as Kidblog, now Fanschool. This weekly practice is graded, but the rubric is rather basic. More of a get-‘er-done checklist rather than anything meticulous. I forgot that the practice of writing weekly creates improvement.
Yesterday I heard my older students claiming word counts.
“I wrote 500 words!”
“I can top that easily!”
These claims were not so much competitive as they were evidence that I had nothing to worry about. They’ve learned to elaborate, to use transitions, to add dialogue, to end with a satisfying conclusion, not because I have told them to, but because that is what writers do.
Like the gladiolus my friend dropped off at my back door, their long stem of learning has blossomed and continues to grow. I am proud to be the holder of the blooming flowers. I must’ve done something good.
Glad Elfchen Students bloom when you let them be the flowers they Choose.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
A piece of paper can be history. When our girls were growing up, we taught them to write thank you notes by doing them regularly. And we usually made them by hand. My oldest daughter continues that tradition with her children, especially Leo who is five now. He can draw well and can spell his own name. A handmade card can become a piece of history.
Last week my friend Jim was texting me about Maggie, my oldest daughter, asking for her contact and when she would be at her office in town. I had no idea what this was about. Later Maggie texted me for Jim’s address. I still was not sure what was going on, but I figured Maggie was writing him a note.
Then I received two pictures from her in our sisters group text.
Maggie sent photos of the relic from 1993. Our family had attended the first Live Oak Tree Festival, which was held again this weekend. It’s now a part of our city’s long list of spring festivals. Jim created it after Hurricane Andrew (circa 1992) had taken many of our precious live oak trees. The live oaks saved New Iberia from the complete devastation of that category 5 storm. We owed them a festival. Now in its 31st year, it’s grown to more than a petting zoo, donkey rides, and paper making crafts. I was touched by Jim’s gesture. I wouldn’t be surprised if Maggie frames the handmade thank you note.
Maggie at age 8 composed the note.Martha was only 3, so Katherine likely signed her name.
Dear Mr. Jim,
Thank you for the tree festival. My favorite part was the papermakeing and Katherine liked the African dancers in the mud. Martha’s favorate thing was the glueing fabrik leaves on trees and the music. We hope you do it again next year!
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Monday was Earth Day and the weather could not have been more perfect. A cool front came through, so our temps were in the 60’s. I took each group of students outside for writing time. I opened the Merlin app and we talked about the birds’ songs we heard. It was a good day for listening, teaching, and writing. State testing starts Wednesday, so I was happy for the opportunity to sit outside and forget our worries.
Kailyn’s notebook page
Earth Day is also my father’s death day. He loved double numbers; his birthday was 11/11/33. He passed away on 4/22/22. Ethical ELA’s prompt gave me the space I needed to write about him and his love of trees.
Dark Clouds by John Gibson
Earth Day Dedication
My father’s compass pointed to the trees, how the branches bent and blocked light shadows dotting landscape.
Once he told me trees grounded him in the present, reliable– long standing safety for Mother Earth’s children.
Yesterday I heard the “kow-kow-kow” of a yellow-billed cuckoo stopping in our tree from its journey across the Gulf.
The journey of life, as the cuckoo calls, is hard and easy. Some days you find rest, take a breath, sigh for Mother Earth and sing loud. (Margaret Simon, draft)
Fifth grader Kailyn blows India ink into a mysterious shape.
Thanks to a grant from Alpha Delta Kappa educational sorority, I funded a field trip for the elementary gifted students in Iberia Parish. The purpose of the field trip was to expose our students to the mystery and magic of art.
The students were able to tour an exhibit at The Hilliard Museum in Lafayette, LA. They saw the art of George Rodrigue, who was born in New Iberia and became world famous with the creation of his Blue Dog series. The students were fascinated to learn of Rodrigue’s origins and how he created amazing paintings throughout his life until his death in 2013. They recognized the iconic Blue Dog from a sculpture that we have in a downtown park dedicated to his memory.
They also viewed the art of Beili Liu who used the element of water to create an abstract hanging of paper above their heads. She also made blue cyanotype prints of objects from the ocean to draw attention to the problems of pollution.
Denise Gallagher, a local author, illustrator, and graphic artist led the students in an abstract activity using small straws and India ink on paper. Enjoy the gallery of art. Some students wrote poems to accompany their creations.
I believe that children should be exposed to art and learn that they are creators. Denise and Callie, the educational docent at The Hilliard, helped our students feel comfortable and inspired by art. The students were pleasantly surprised and proud of their creations.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Inspired by Molly Hogan’s post, “Diary of a Maine Spring,” I am finishing the Slice of Life March Challenge with a diary of a sunset paddle on the Bayou Teche. I’ve lived almost twenty years on this bayou named “Teche” (tesh) for the Native American word for snake. Not so named because there are snakes (there are), but because of its winding shape.
With our busy lives, work, school, activities, dancing, grandchildren, we don’t paddle our backyard as often as we “should”. Saturday offered us a window of time and a perfect weather day, low 70’s and clear skies.
My husband steers the canoe. I sit in the front and paddle most of the time. He allows me, encourages me rather, to stop and take photos. He even pulled the boat closer to the shore to take a photo of the white spider lily which is blooming now. I’m glad you can’t smell the huge dead garfish that was also on the bank caught up in cypress knees.
I nurtured my inner peace (One Little Word ’24) for a few hours of the evening. I let go of all and let God show me Creation at its most beautiful. An Easter vigil, of sorts. A perfect end of a perfect spring day. A sure sign of resurrection and life.
On Saturday, early in the morning, I set up a booth with two of my regional SCBWI friends. We offered our books for sale and some fun crafty activities for kids at the Lafayette Farmers & Artisans Market.
Rainbow paper is magical.Me with Mamere dollMy only sale of the day!
Middle grade novels and poetry books are not best sellers in this market. My friends who have picture books sold more than I did. But I didn’t care. It was a beautiful day!
When I saw a middle grade girl, I asked her if she would like to write a poem. She looked eager, so I gave her a card with a prompt from Bayou Song, a Things to Do poem. She did it! I told her she was the poet of the month and posted it on Facebook. Her mother recognized immediately that we were all teachers and said, “This is a magical space.” That comment and her daughter’s poem made every minute worth it.
Francisco from Argentina is spending some time in our little town. I invited him to teach some of our students about the instrument he plays, violin. He visited the school on Thursday for Multi-Cultural Day. To get the students engaged in the understanding of how music words, he used a most basic and familiar tune “Happy Birthday.” He asked them questions that led them to understand you first have a note, a sound, then a beat, a melody, but he also talked about how that song is so much a part of our culture that we all know it.
We all sang along. Everyone knew the words.
In her weekly newsletter, Maggie Smith wrote about how art can be synchronistic, that the universe crisscrosses and shows us something new. “Art begets art begets art.”
On Friday, Amy Ludwig VanDerwater posted a lesson and video on her blog “The Poem Farm”. She called the method for finding a meter to use in poetry “Tapping it Out.” For my students, this essence of how song influences poetry was inspiring. I was inspired, too.
My poem came from the beat of “I’m a Little Teapot”.
Looking at the raindrops falling down, One on the windshield One on the ground. When I find my jacket, cozy warm, I thank the clouds for their swift storm.
Margaret Simon, draft
Thanks, Amy and Francisco, for inspiring us to see the magic of a simple tune, how music is in our hearts everyday.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I wrote a book years ago about a girl who loved a chicken. Her name was Blessen. Blessen still lives in my heart. I don’t know her, but I know her because I created her. Here is a child I don’t know. She is hugging a chicken. I love the image and I borrowed it from Facebook. I don’t have permission to publish it, so please do not take it.
Can you create a character in a poem today? A child who loves chickens or all animals? Who is she? Explore her with a fictional poem. Today I am choosing the form of cherita which is a 6-lined poem broken into 3 stanzas. (stanza 1: one line; stanza 2: 2 lines; stanza 3: 3 lines.) Cherita means story, so the poem should tell a story. An example from Mary Lee is here.
Curly locks and black feathers
hold on to each other– friend to friend
Cherishing a moment before the parade when black feathers will fly.
Margaret Simon, draft
There is a weird tradition here in South Louisiana at Mardi Gras when country folks chase a chicken for a gumbo. It’s a drunken, barbaric affair that I struggle with. Many believe it is harmless fun.
Leave your own poem (cherita or other small poem) in the comments. Give encouraging responses to other writers.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She is a retired elementary gifted teacher who writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 