I don’t usually choose stock photos for this poetry prompt; however, today I am listening to the downpour that is the early bands of Hurricane Francine, and I can’t help but think about the helpers. Today is the 23rd anniversary of 9/11. I am not with my students to do any kind of lesson due to our weather. I always struggle with teaching on September 11th. To me it is a day that changed everything. I can remember our fairly innocent and carefree life before. This scene is poignant. Firefighters running toward disaster. That is what helpers do.
Take a few minutes today to remember. Then write a small poem in the comments. Depending on power and internet, I may or may not be able to respond. Try to respond to each other.
Our collective history is marked by single moments– a gunshot that kills a president, a footstep on the moon, a plane crashing into a tower. We are moved and changed forever. Remember the helpers. Thank the helpers. Be a helper. Margaret Simon, draft
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I teach gifted elementary students. I think of my classroom door as a revolving one because students from grades 2-6 come in and go out all day long. Two weeks ago I brought in some Gulf fritillary caterpillars in a butterfly net. I placed them on the table and invited my students to ask questions.
This is Marifaye’s sketchbook neatly written with her 5 questions and the answers. (Not all notebooks looked this neat.)
Students gathered around the table and drew what they saw, asking question after question. They became enthusiastic yet frustrated that I would not give them a straight answer. They practiced using Google to research and answer their questions.
This week the caterpillars eclosed (hatched) and once again we observed and drew pictures then released the butterfly.
Danielle, 2nd grade, wrote a sentence. “This is my drawing of a Gulf fritillary. I drew a vine with a flower.”
James wrote a fib poem about the butterfly. (We talked about using more specific vocabulary than words like nice and cool.) Gulf vine flowers butterfly a fritillary flying through the beautiful sky
I don’t always have nature at my fingertips to lead inquiry with my classes. This was a wonderful way to introduce the idea that asking questions and wondering are all part of the process of learning. And releasing was just pure Joy!
This month Mary Lee Hahn challenged the Inklings to write after Joyce Sutphen‘s poem Next Time. Sutphen’s poem has a dreamy quality to it, that if-only-I-could-do-it-again thought process. I was drawn to her lines “Next time I won’t waste my time on anger…Next time, I’ll rush up to people I love, look into their eyes, and kiss them, quick.”
I write about grief a lot. Why is that? Grief settles after a while but is always there waiting to be released again and again. It can be set off by a song, the familiar sound of a bird, or my grandson saying “I want to Facetime Pop.” We have to remind him (at age 5) that Pop died. When I sent this poem to fellow inkling Heidi Mordhorst, she said, “You write again and again about grief because you are still learning exactly this.”
Abby Wambach said recently in “We Can Do Hard Things” that she has made friends with her grief. “grief has become a friend to me, in that I am developing a real true relationship with it, because it’s the access point to all of the most intense feelings that I feel, the most intense sadness, the most intense anger.” So, here I am again and again, writing a grief poem.
I’ll avoid the cut grass where the snake eggs lie. I’ll check the mailbox for menacing wasps. Next time I’ll be wary when the cat calls to me in mournful mews.
Next time I won’t stray from the well-worn path. I’ll acknowledge wisdom of ancestors who learned, felt a spiritual guide. Who denies their purpose?
Next time I’ll read the book start to finish, underline passages in pencil, notes in the margin. Next time I’ll know death comes. It will not surprise me. Gut me.
Next time I’ll answer the call on the first ring. I’ll be there by your side, holding your hand in mine. I’ll let love keep its promise, be my purpose.
Golden Orb Weaver Spider (aka banana spider) by Maggie Simon
I was looking at the photos on my daughter Maggie’s phone and came across this spider. She had taken the photo on a nature walk along the bayou with her children while attending a birthday party. It is commonly known as a banana spider. Can you see its web? I featured a golden orb weaver in my yet-to-be-published book Swamp Song. I wrote the poem as a golden shovel for the golden orb weaver.
A golden shovel is a poem that uses the text of a line from another poem or text. Align the words of the quote down the right hand margin. Use these words to create a poem written around the words of the quote. The poem may or may not be of the same topic of the quote.
Today you can choose to find a quote you like to write about in a golden shovel or write your own ekphrastic poem about the photo. Please post your poems in the comments and give encouraging feedback to other writers.
“Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space”
A Noiseless Patient Spider by Walt Whitman
Golden threads surrounded her throne, detached from her banana-abdomen, woven in curious ways, measureless vibrations like waves of oceans swallowing flying insects of space. Margaret Simon, all rights reserved
Writing in a community of writers has led me to so many wonderful connections with other teacher-writers from all over the world. I discovered the writing community at Ethical ELA in the spring of 2020 when we were all isolated. Being able to find meaningful writing prompts and support from others helped me feel less alone.
Now, four years later, I am honored to be involved in a book project. I have two chapters in a book that gives teachers an understanding of how poetry can be healing in our classrooms and beyond. Words that Mend is here, alongside its sister books 90 Ways of Community and Just YA.
One of my chapters in Words that Mend appears in the section Teacher Healing titled Walking through Grief with Poetry. I wrote about my grief journey after my father’s death and how writing poems helped me process that grief. The comments others left for me on my poems felt authentic and caring. Healing from grief doesn’t happen quickly, if ever, but finding a space for sharing my thoughts in poetry gave me a purpose. And having this book now out in the world gives me purpose.
The second chapter I wrote is titled Write Along with Me, An Invitation Accepted. I wrote about how one of my students used poetry in my class to carry her through grief and how she reached out to me to start a small after school writing group. In that chapter, you can find writing prompts that worked for me as I worked with her. In fact, each chapter includes a section for a prompt for teachers and students.
Penny Kittle wrote this about Words that Mend:
“My time reading Words that Mend was not only worth it, it has multiplied my thinking about teachers as writers in profound ways. These chapters contain the lives and experiences of teachers—written like a colleague who pulls up a chair to sit beside you—and you lean in, listening with intensity and joy. What a gift this book is: it holds so much. Words that Mend is the invitation each of us needs to write in community. In celebration. In support. In discovery of what it means to bring poetry into the lives of all those we know. There is a particular generosity in this book: one of personal experiences, yes, but also the hesitations all writers feel to show their lives in writing. You will find beginnings here (even a notebook page of first thoughts) that will inspire you to write. You will find lesson plans already worn and weathered by use in classrooms. Do not turn from the gift of Words that Mend: you need it more than you might think you do.”
~Penny Kittle, author Write Beside Them, Book Love, and Micro Mentor Texts
Words that Mend is now available for purchase on Amazon (for printing cost only) and a free pdf download on Ethical ELA here.
Sarah Donovan, Oklahoma State University, curator of Ethical ELA tells our story on YouTube:
We will have an online event at 2:00PM CST on September 22nd to celebrate and write together. Stay tuned!
A few weeks ago I received an email from Laura Shovan introducing me to a new poetry form, the Pythagorean Poem created by middle grade author Shari Green. For anyone who loves a good challenging form, this is for you. I haven’t tried it with my students…Yet.
Similar to a Fibonacci poem, the form is based on a mathematical truth, the Pythagorean theorem. This theorem for you non-math nerds like me is the rule for a right triangle:
Shari took this rule to a poetry level: Using the triple, the poetic form works like this:
1st stanza: 3 lines of 3 words each
2nd stanza: 4 lines of 4 words each
3rd stanza: 5 lines of 5 words each*
* The third stanza must be composed of all the words found in stanzas one and two (in any order; variations okay). The third stanza should be a progression of sorts, a product of the first two in thought or theme or meaning.
I think you could change the numbers of a and b, but the final stanza must use a combination of words from the first two stanzas.
In my classroom and at home, I am keeping caterpillars in safe enclosures. The caterpillars are Gulf fritillaries that hatch and feed on passion vine. I tried this topic for my first ever Pythagorean Poem.
Hidden in wood chrysalis of safety rest for weary
hardworking caterpillars climb munching passion vine leaves grow longer each day prepare for enclosed transformation
Passion caterpillars grow, prepare for weary rest enclosed in safety. Each hardworking, munching vine leaves. Climb into wood-hidden chrysalis– Transformation for longer days.
Every evening after dinner, my husband and I take the puppy out for a walk. Last night my gaze was up at the sky watching small birds circle and swoop above us. I opened my Merlin bird identification app and found they were chimney swifts.
The sun was setting and coloring the clouds a deep purple and pink. After a few attempts, I captured some of these “swift” birds against the canvas of the sky.
Write a small poem today inspired by this photo. Please share it with us in the comments and respond to other writers. Thanks for being here.
A Swift Fib
Small swifts circle purple sky speckling the evening with dazzling twittering delight @Margaret Simon, draft
A fib poem has a syllable count that follows the Fibonacci series (1,1,2,3,5,8…)
This week was my second week of teaching this school year. We are settling into the routine. My classroom door revolves all day long with incoming and outgoing students. Nevertheless, I am establishing some routines. One of the expectations each week is “This Photo Wants to be a Poem.” On Wednesdays I post a photo here on my blog, but I also post it on our Fanschool site.
My friend Dani Burtsfield is a teacher in Kallispell, Montana. Last week she hosted poet Allan Wolf for her annual reading conference. She took Allan on a hike that she had taken me on a few years ago, so she sent pictures of them. I was wishing I could teleport and be with them, especially since our temperatures are well into the 90’s these days. If you know Allan and his poetry presentations, you know how he creates fun wherever he goes. Dani sent me some pictures.
Allan Wolf photo by Dani Burtsfield
On my students’ blog, I post my own poem as a model, and each student writes their own poem in response. One of my new students is a second grader. I taught her how to write a haiku. First we collected words. Then she spoke lines using the words. We counted syllables. I think she was pleased with her poem.
Crystal clear water you can see mountains through it beautiful blue lake
by Danielle, 2nd grade
Avalyn, now in 5th grade, wrote similes and used repetition. It amazes me how seemingly simple poetic elements can work together to become a beautiful poem.
Like an oversized crystal it falls Like the morning mist it falls Like a Maiden priestess it falls Like an opal river it falls by Avalyn , 5th grade
The final example I want to share made me laugh. Kailyn wrote from the perspective of the waterfall itself.
I love spitting on people, it’s just the way I flow. Paparazzi all around me, trees for hair. My life has been a sequel, the water in me loves to go, go, go! I can just relax and be lazy. If you visit me, you might want to watch what you wear.. by Kailyn, 6th grade
Dani, Allan, and Randy at Virginia Falls in Glacier Park, Montana.
My friend Dani Burtsfield lives in Montana near Glacier Park. She sent me this photo from a hike she took with Allan Wolf, a poet who was visiting as a presenter for her reading conference. She had taken me on this same hike in the summer of 2018.
I don’t know the specific name for these falls, but I thought a postcard poem would be a good form. This week is Open Write at Ethical ELA and Jeania White led the prompt “Postcards from Places I’ve Never Been”.
Postcard from the Falls
Missing you as I feel the spray of cool water on my face remembering we took off our shoes to put our toes in and spread our arms out wide to hold a Montana waterfall.
Margaret Simon, draft
Imagine this place on a postcard and write a small poem in the comments. Please respond to other poets with encouraging words.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
School has started so that means back to the butterfly garden. Summer has left it overgrown and in need of attention.
On Friday my student Avalyn and I got to work. Here she is with a mammoth sunflower we planted in the spring.
Avalyn and the giant sunflower.
I started picking up the layers of mown grass around the edge of the planter box. I uncovered a nest of eggs.
Nest of eggs in dead grass
Avalyn and I, along with a few curious teachers, began a quest to find out what these eggs were.
They wouldn’t be bird eggs. Bird eggs are hard and round and usually in trees with an attending mother bird.
What about turtle eggs? Turtles usually dig a hole, and they lay near water.
Lizards? Too big.
We finally landed on the scariest option, snakes.
With my cell phone flashlight, Avalyn (Unlike her teacher, she didn’t mind touching and handling the egg.) candled the egg. Candling is a way to see inside the egg. She showed her classmates. We could see the embryo and veins and a shadow of a swirl.
Avalyn shows her classmates how to look inside an egg.
I know that having a garden is good for the social and emotional needs of gifted students (all students, actually) but I hadn’t prepared myself for the possibility of snakes.
I’m relieved to report that the eggs were hatched or eaten, certainly not viable, come Monday morning.
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 