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Slippery Slide

See more Poetry Friday at Jama's Alphabet Soup.

See more Poetry Friday at Jama’s Alphabet Soup.

Most students in the middle grades know the name Lemony Snicket, so when I introduced his article from Poetry magazine, they were primed to listen. In this article, Lemony Snicket introduced adult poetry to children. He says, “Poetry is like a curvy slide in a playground — an odd object, available to the public — and, as I keep explaining to my local police force, everyone should be able to use it, not just those of a certain age.”

We read aloud the whole article. My instructions for writing were simple, “Steal a line that you like and write from there.”

The poem I wrote is a Cento, in which I took a line from each of the poems in the article.

An open door says, “Come in.”
The room I entered was a dream of this room.
I’m in the house.
I’m still here?
There is no need for you to come and visit me.
You are food. You are here for me to eat.
There will never be enough.
Nothing anyone could do to stop it coming.
The next obvious question:
“Does anyone want to be my sack of potatoes?”
Think of a big pink horse.
There are monsters everywhere.
What is it the sign of?
It is what it is.
That’s Poetry to me.
Thank you, I have enjoyed imagining all this.

Some student samples:

If I would be walking
down the road that
you told me to imagine,
would it be full of gumdrops,
and rainbows covered
in sprinkles and chocolate
fudge on a marshmallow
cloud that tastes like
strawberry icing or maybe
chocolate ice cream on the
hottest day of the year,
or would the road be
full of dark nights, but no stars
and gravestones, with lost kids,
and a grey, lonely path with
cracks in the middle
that can swallow
me up in one bite, with
eyes looking at me in
every direction?

If I would be walking
down the road you told
me to imagine,
which road would I be walking?
If I would be walking
the road you told me
to imagine, would my road
include you?

–Brooklyn

Electric green and red tears
reflected like rainbows over water in the daylight
right before rain
a warning of good fortune
telling us it’s okay
–Kendall

Stir Up and Notice

Join the Tuesday Slice of Life!

Join the Tuesday Slice of Life!

Stir Up
Notice
These are the first words I wrote in my journal in the Festival of Words poetry workshop with Naomi Shihab Nye on Saturday. I was star-struck… for about 5 minutes. Because Naomi is probably one of the warmest, most welcoming, poetry presenters I have ever seen. She makes everyone feel like they belong there. Even the man who had to step out to take a phone call. She spoke to him with concern and said, “Step out any time you need to. I understand.” And the woman who attended without registering. She pulled up a chair right next to her. “You are no intruder. You are a poet.”

The most wonderful welcome was for my former student, Kaylie. I got special permission from Naomi to bring Kaylie to the workshop. Everyone else there was my age or older, but that did not intimidate Kaylie. She shared like the confident poet that she is. She even read her award winning poem from the LA Writes anthology. Our hearts were full. Can you tell from our picture?

Kaylie and me with Naomi.  Love her!

Kaylie and me with Naomi. Love her!

Inscription to Kaylie from Naomi Shihab Nye

Inscription to Kaylie from Naomi Shihab Nye

Here are a few quotes from the wisdom of Naomi Shihab Nye:

I’ve kicked the word busy out of my vocabulary. I am embracing the word befriend.

When was the last time you really listened to your heart?

What old story are you telling yourself that keeps you from being free?

An artist is doing the art.

Each thing gives us something else.

What have you lost? What have you found?

You are an amazing poet.

with gratitude for your voice.

Kaylie wrote this poem in response to the first writing prompt, “What old story are you telling yourself that keeps you from being free?”

Free:
I am free.
I have never been bound by the chains of life,
Never been shackled or held in one place.
My pen is allowed to scribble across the page,
And I never restrain it.
I don’t take the time to think about my past,
I only think about bettering the future.
Held aloft on shimmering wings of gossamer,
My head floating through the clouds,
My heart thumps in a song.
As long as I write, my spirit will live eternally.
I will hide my innocence and curiosity inside of bubbles that float behind me,
Keeping this freedom inside of me flowing forever.
–Kaylie B., all rights reserved

Discover. Play. Build.

Celebration Saturday is here! I am happy Ruth Ayres started this tradition. It makes me stop every Saturday and think about the week in a positive way. Yesterday Ruth wrote:

I think too busy means I’m missing real life. Too busy means I’m swept up by the current panic or the flashy trend.

Too busy means I’m surviving.

Life should be more than survival.

Because when we are trapped in survival, it is too easy to believe we can’t do anything powerful or meaningful or worthy. It is too easy for the day to wrap around us and to feel like the only choice is to react

Life should be more than reaction.

I’m wondering if the way to step over (or maybe to step on) too busy, is to find the celebration.

Her words spoke to me because I feel I went into the panic mode last week and began the crazy mantra that I’m too busy. Her words made me stop. OK, breathe and look around you for things to celebrate.
Last night I made Tortilla Soup. That is something to celebrate, time to cook and time for soup!

flowers

The air has gotten cooler. The flowers in my front flower bed opened up to this cool air. They remind me every morning to open up to the air and see the light.

Brooke bday

Brooklyn celebrated her 12th birthday yesterday. I brought sprinkle donuts and satsumas. She brought homemade chocolate chip cookies. We took a break from all our writing to celebrate Brooklyn. I gave her a journal. She waved it at me and said, “You gave me the gift of writing!”

Before we took the break, V. was writing at the computer. She saw the google doodle and played with the changing ink blots. She announced, “I see a cat with wings.”
I said, “You should write a poem about the cat with wings.”
She got up and threw herself on the pillows in the reading center exclaiming, “I can’t take all this writing!” Hilarious. I had to take her picture.

Too much writing

What are you celebrating this week? Take a moment to stop, breathe in the cooler air, and celebrate your life.

See more Poetry Friday with Diane Mayr at Random Noodling

See more Poetry Friday with Diane Mayr at Random Noodling

Ava Leavell Haymon, Louisiana Poet Laureate

Ava Leavell Haymon, Louisiana Poet Laureate

“Somewhere, out beyond ideas
of wrongdoing and right-doing,
there is a field.

I will meet you there.” –Rumi

Thus is the epigraph that opens Ava Leavell Haymon’s latest work of poetry, Eldest Daughter. Ava is the most recently appointed Louisiana Poet Laureate, and she is coming to New Iberia next weekend to a Fall Poetry Night. (Fist-arm pump) Yes! If you met Ava, the thing you would remember about her is her laugh, and she laughs often.

Ava’s poetry is masterly crafted, yet easily accessible. Lemony Snicket selected one of Ava’s poems, The Witch has Told You a Story, to feature in his article, All Good Slides Are Slippery for Poetry Magazine. Mr. Snicket says that “poetry is like a curvy slide in a playground — an odd object, available to the public — and, as I keep explaining to my local police force, everyone should be able to use it, not just those of a certain age.” I shared this article with my students this week. We wrote our own poems by stealing a line from one or more of the poems in the article. This was a great activity and produced some funny poems. Stay tuned.

Ava has given me permission to share two of her poems with you. This first is from the collection Why the House is Made of Gingerbread. I love this collection. Who would have thought that the classic Hansel and Gretel would have yielded such moving and thoughtful poetry?

THE WITCH HAS TOLD YOU A STORY

You are food, she said.
You are here for me to eat.
Fatten up, and I will
like you better. Your brother will
be first. You must wait your turn.
You must feed him yourself.
You must learn to do it. Take him
eggs with yellow sauce, and muffins,
butter leaking out the crooked break
in the sides. Fried meats
later in the morning and sweets
in a heady parade from the oven.

His vigilance, an ice pick of hunger
pricking his sides, will melt
in the unctuous cream fillings.
He will forget. He will thank you
for it. His little finger stuck every day
through the cracks in the bars
will grow sleek and round,
his hollow face swell
like the moon. He will stop dreaming
the fear in the woods without food.
He will lean toward the mouth
of the oven, the door
that yawns wide every afternoon
to better and better smells.
–Ava Leavell Haymon, all rights reserved

The second poem comes from Ava’s latest work Eldest Daughter. I haven’t read them all yet, but the ones I have are so full! Full of childhood fears, sensibilities, and humor. LSU Press says “she combines the sensory and the spiritual in wild verbal fireworks.” And to hear her read them, you see the fireworks glow in her eyes. She is a delight, and I can’t wait to introduce her to my town.

THE CHILD BORN

with a caul
the child who eats the skin that forms on scalded milk
the child who bites cuticles instead of fingernails
the child who sucks her hair at night
the child who sings in her sleep
the child who does not mind the squeak of blackboard chalk
the child who swallowed a blue bead
the child who will not throw up
the child who refuses to listen
the child with the gristle knob at the arch of her ribs
the child who knows where the matches are
the child who looks too long at her father
the child who likes to spit
the child who looks in the eyes of the dog
the child who sits for hours
the child who sometimes laughs when she’s by herself
the child whose cold hands
the child who eats clay
the child who can look cross-eyed
the child who starts fires
the child who hides in a chinaberry tree
the child who listens
the child who grows quieter and quieter
the child who can be trusted with knives and scissors
the child who never reaches under her bed
the child who goes where no one is
the child who cuts things out
the child who hums little songs no one can recognize

Ava Leavell Haymon, all rights reserved

Fall Poetry Night will be Saturday, November 16th at 6:00 PM at A&E Gallery. Other poets reading will be Mickey Delcambre, Suzi Thornton, Diane Moore, and Margaret Gibson Simon.

Ava reading from Eldest Daughter on YouTube (This one is for adults only despite what Lemony Snicket may say.):

Wonder

Join the Tuesday Slice of Life!

Join the Tuesday Slice of Life!

reading sky

Wonder

I am reading Wonder by R. J. Palacio to my morning ELA class. We are moving through it slowly. I set aside time at the beginning of school. Then we got busy. But recently, as we are getting deeper into the story, the students remind me and keep me committed to daily reading aloud.

Last week we got to the second section written in the voice of Via. Via starts, “August is the sun, and we are the planets revolving around him.” This was a tough chapter to get through. I had to take a few deep breaths. The only place Via has ever felt the center of the universe is with her grandmother, and her grandmother dies suddenly.

Palacio’s book is real. The kids get it. They know what it feels like to be in a school like August’s school. But most children do not know what it is like to grow up with a disfigured face or to have someone in your own family draw attention when out in the world. Via describes this feeling. At home with August, she feels normal. She loves him like the little brother he is. She doesn’t understand how people stare, how they don’t see beyond his face. That is, until she does understand.

I read to my students books that move me, that will hopefully move them. What I wasn’t thinking about when I decided to read Wonder was Brooklyn. I have written about Brooklyn before. Back in 2012 when she joined my gifted class. I was impressed then about how she handled herself with such gentle poise and strength of character.

Brooklyn, like Via, is in the universe revolving around the sun, her brother. (See this post: Dare to be Different.) Bryce is a senior in high school and has accomplished amazing feats in sports. He is an international gold medal athlete in weightlifting and javelin. Bryce competes in para-athletics because he has cerebral palsy and walks with crutches. Bryce does not go unnoticed. People stare. Brooklyn says the little kids don’t bother her so much , but when she sees an adult stare, she wants to punch them. She knows that they stare in ignorance and curiosity, but it still makes her mad.

This day, when we finished reading, Brooklyn came to me for a hug. Her eyes were teary. She said, “I get it. I know how Via feels.” And then it hit me. Of course she does. This is Brooklyn’s life.

R. J. Palacio has created a powerful book that not only will help students learn to practice kindness, but Wonder also comforts those children who can relate to the experience of being different and wanting nothing more than to be normal.

Discover. Play. Build.

Saturday Celebration is happening weekly at Ruth Ayres site: Discover. Play. Build.

This week was full of celebrations.
1. Chalkabration Day: Read our spooky chalketry here. We loved having Kaylie visit on this special day.

2. A winner: My 6th grader, Brooklyn, placed FIRST in the Jr. High Division of the Festival of Words Contest with her poem, “I’m Home.”

3. I received an awesome evaluation from a school board observer. Here’s a quote from her report, “You have a strong rapport with these students. There is a bond of mutual respect between you and them. The classroom climate is joyful; the students are encouraged to learn the way that works for them.” Her words brought tears to my eyes. This is who I want to be as a teacher and to have an outside observer see that in me is very rewarding.

awards
4. The Louisiana Book Festival: As you are reading this, I am awarding 65 students for their excellence in writing. I coordinate a state writing contest, Louisiana Writes! The fruition of many hours happens in the State Museum at the opening of the Book Festival. Many proud students, teachers, and parents will be listening to readings and taking pictures of young authors holding shiny medals, an anthology, and a certificate from the governor. A wonderful celebration!

30 days of thanks button It’s time to be thankful, a month of Thanks. Today I am grateful for beautiful weather and for my friends who have helped me lead the LA Writes contest for 10 years, Connie, Sara, Joan, and Ann.

The Festival of Words

See more Poetry Friday with Linda at Teacher Dance.

See more Poetry Friday with Linda at Teacher Dance.

The Festival of Words is around the corner (next weekend!). Naomi Shihab Nye is coming to the small town of Grand Coteau, Louisiana to be a part of this great celebration of poetry. Naomi is a Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets, and she is coming to see us and share poetry with us. I have signed up for her workshop next Saturday and have gotten special permission to bring a student with me.

The Festival of Words was organized six years ago by a small group who believed that Poetry is for Everybody. With drive-by poetry and open air readings, the festival brings the power of poetry to the streets.

The Festival also holds a student writing contest. The contest is open to 6th-12th graders. The highest level I teach is 6th grade. My student, Brooklyn, entered her poem about sugarcane and placed FIRST in the Jr. High Division. I have been teaching Brooklyn since she was in 4th grade, and it delights me to see her writing develop to contest-winning level. I am so proud of her. Her winning poem is here:

I’m home

A green line of cane,
above the tan dirt,
under the bright blue
Louisiana sky.

Colorful, like a
shining rainbow after
a harsh rain,
like a path full of
roses and daisies.
There is a hushing noise,
made by the stalks slowly
and gently rubbing together,
hush, hush, hush.
sugarcane 4
With the touch of the angel’s wing
so delicate and free, reassuring
you that anything is possible.

Always giving off the soft,
welcoming, harmless,
I’m home feeling.
I’m home,
I’m home,
I’m home.

Brooklyn, all rights reserved

From the Festival of Words Kickstarter Site on Why it Matters: “Writing poems and stories gives people of all ages a positive means to communicate, share, and respect each other’s words and individuality. • Creative writing raises student literacy levels • Creative writing teaches problem-solving, analysis, and creative thinking • Students who participate in the arts are more likely to excel academically and professionally.”

Spooky Chalkabration

Join the Chalk-a-bration over at Teaching Young Writers

Join the Chalk-a-bration over at Teaching Young Writers

I love joining Betsy’s monthly Chalkabration at the end of each month. This week my students reminded me! We had a class visitor. Kaylie, who is now a middle school student, had a fall break, so she came to visit. The kids were excited to write with her again and to have her join our Chalkabration. With the theme of Halloween, ideas flowed quickly, and we were off to decorate the sidewalk with our spooky poems.

Chalk pumpkinKaylie Chalk

Kendall ChalkMatthew chalk
Me ChalkVannisa ChalkTyler Chalk

Join the Tuesday Slice of Life!

Join the Tuesday Slice of Life!

Kamryn

Kamryn

This is Kamryn. She was the ten-year-old daughter of a colleague of mine who lost her battle with cancer last week. In August of 2011, Kamryn was diagnosed with a inoperable brain stem tumor. St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital gave her two years when she was only expected to live 6 months. St. Jude continues the commitment to cancer research and to providing excellent care for children at no cost. This is only possible through donations.

gtw13-logo-email

I did not have the opportunity to meet Kamryn. Her mother taught part time last year to be available to her daughter, and we spent lunch time together often. She was easy to talk to and seemed to be at peace with Kamryn’s condition. We connected because we both have 3 daughters. I came to love Kathleen and was so saddened to hear of her loss. No one should ever have to bury a child. I went by the funeral home after school. Kathleen greeted me warmly. The atmosphere was celebratory. Teachers had brought gifts for her other daughters, and many children were running around. It was as if Kamryn created an atmosphere of joy.

In November, St. Jude is holding a walkathon. I have joined Kamryn’s team. Please consider supporting this cause and donating through my page: St. Jude Give Thanks Walk.

I talked to my 5th and 6th grade students today about Kamryn. Nigel remembers her from his class in first grade. They were excited to plan a fundraiser at the school. We will hold a school walkathon. The kids had the idea to make a button to sell as well as a color page for donations. Nigel jumped over to the computer and started composing a letter. He wrote that we should honor Kamryn and support her parents in their loss. Even young students understand that we can turn grief and helplessness to action and helpfulness. I have a good feeling about this fundraiser. We’ve decided to be Shining Stars for Kamryn.

Discover. Play. Build.

Today is Celebration Saturday over at Ruth Ayres’ Site, Discover, Play, Build.

Yesterday was a wonderful fall day! The air was clear and crisp. A perfect day for a field trip. The gifted program for our district takes the 4th-6th graders on a field trip every other year to St. Francisville, LA and Natchez, MS. Early Friday morning at 6 AM, our students and teachers, along with some parent and grandparent chaperones, boarded a chartered bus and headed north to St. Francisville.

atchafalaya sunrise

In St. Francisville, we toured the haunted Myrtles Plantation home. One of the stories we heard was about a slave who had her ear cut off. This ghost apparently steals earrings, actually takes only one for her remaining ear, and is especially fond of hoop earrings. And sure enough, one of the moms had on hoop earrings. One was gone, Poof!, by the end of the tour. I had the freezons, which is Cajun for chills.

Students pose at the outdoor fountain.

Students pose at the outdoor fountain.

After touring and walking the beautiful grounds of the Myrtles, we headed down the road to Grace Epicopal Church to their old cemetery. There the students did gravestone rubbings. Next week we will research these and write historical fiction stories.

Candice rubbinggravestone rubbing

In Natchez, we ate lunch on the grounds of the Grand Village of the Natchez Indians, and the kids had the chance to run up and down Indian mounds and learn about the pottery and basketry of the Natchez Indians. A favorite souvenir for my boys were arrowhead pendants.

Then on to Longwood Plantation. Longwood is an impressive site, the largest plantation home in Natchez; however, the only completed part is the basement. The Civil War broke out, and the owner died of pneumonia. His widow raised 8 children in the completed part of the basement which was only 10,000 square feet. Imagine the completed house would have been 30,000 sq. feet. You go up the stairs and can see the framework of the incomplete mansion. It is most fascinating. Again at this plantation, the students sketched. Back at school, they will compare and contrast the life of a child at each plantation we visited.

Longviewsketching at LongviewNigel sketching

Even though the trip was long and we didn’t get back home until 8:30 PM, the friendships made and nurtured as well as the history learned and appreciated made this field trip a valuable experience for everyone.