Reflections on the Teche

Poetry Friday: Back in the Classroom

September 22, 2023 by margaretsmn

Poetry Friday is hosted by Carol at Beyond Literacy Link

I’ve had a wonderful week getting back into the classroom. I have some new students as well as the ones I taught last year. I teach gifted ELA pull out for two elementary schools. The hardest part of the job is packing up the cart and moving to the next school. Once I am there, though, all is right with the world. I am meant to be a teacher!

On Wednesday I led my kids through “This Photo Wants to be a Poem.” We use Fanschool and I place the same photo from my blog post to Fanschool. The kids write their own poems in the comment section. Two of my students who signed into gifted this week had never written a poem before. I find joy in the process. I think I spread that passion to them. Their responses were amazing.

This week was Ethical ELA’s Open Write. I wrote about one of my students in response to Barb’s prompt here. A comment from Kim Johnson gave me an idea for the ending metaphor. This is a wonderful community of teacher-writers. Join us in October, 21st-25th.

Volleyball Team

Last year in fourth grade
she would skip recess
awkwardly reading in a corner
of my classroom.

Fifth grade offered a volleyball team.
She arrived with a brightly colored volleyball,
tossed it with confidence,
leaning on it while writing.

“I’m on the volleyball team this year.”
We talked about the serve I could never master.
She showed me how it’s done now–
from the palm-up wrist rather than the thumb.

A flower blooming
through a crack in the concrete,
hoping to find its way
to shine on the court.
Margaret Simon, draft

Posted in Gifted Education, Poetry Friday, This Photo Wants to be a Poem | Tagged Ethical ELA, moonflower, student poems, volleyball | 17 Comments »

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Moonflower

September 20, 2023 by margaretsmn

Moonflower in the butterfly garden, by Margaret Simon

In May, my student Avalyn took on a project to create a butterfly garden at her school. When I returned to school this week, she couldn’t wait to show me how the garden was doing. It was full of flowers. The largest was this moon flower. My friend Mary had donated a small plant in the spring and now it is huge! Yesterday we found a fat green caterpillar on it and researched. The caterpillar is a tobacco hornworm and will become a moth. We also found gulf fritillary caterpillars on the passion vine. They’ve eaten it all. I have a passion vine in my own butterfly garden that hasn’t been touched. I will bring some cuttings to help these little prickly cats along. Raising butterflies is a Joy!

Today write your own poem in any form about the moon, this flower, garden pests, butterflies, etc.

Tobacco Hornworm Nonet

Moon
flower
night bloomer
bright white fragrance
among the children
feeds tobacco hornworm.
Watch how he chomps on the leaves;
Aggressive eater, camouflaged
soon will burrow to emerge as moth.
Margaret Simon, draft

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem | Tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, butterfly garden, tobacco hornworm | 15 Comments »

Spice of Life: Charlie

September 19, 2023 by margaretsmn

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

Have you ever loved a dog? Or the more important question, has a dog ever loved you? Dogs tend to love without any conditions. Of course, they want their treats. Charlie would almost hyperventilate when it was pill pocket time. And how did he know to tell time? 6:00 AM and 6:00 PM, he would start with the begging.

“Lord, help me be the person my dog thinks I am.” I bought this bumper sticker years ago and taped it on the utility room cabinet. Charlie thought I was delicious. He wasn’t a face licker, but show him your bare toes and he would lick till it tickled.

Strangers were new friends to Charlie. The repairmen that visit our house look for Charlie so they can toss him the tennis ball. He would play ball 24/7 if you let him.

Charlie loved a walk. Sometimes he would get out, and the way I coaxed him back was showing him the leash and saying, “Petey’s here!” Petey was my mother-in-law’s dog and we walked together for years after my father-in-law died. These walks made Petey and Charlie best friends, and Anne “Minga” and I grew closer, too.

This week is Ethical ELA’s Open Write. When I read the invitation to write about food from Stacey Joy, I thought of the cinnamon bread my neighbor (and fellow dog lover) left at my back door. Another neighbor who I walk with these days, Shirley and her lab Claire, made me oatmeal cookies. If you’ve had a dog, you can relate to the empty feeling. When I get up in the morning, I go to the back door, turn the lock, and look for Charlie. He’s not there.

Charlie lived a wonderful life. We got him in the fall of 2007 and named him one of our boy names, after my grandfather Charles Liles. It was the perfect name. He was the perfect dog. I miss him, but I have no regrets. He was 16 and in renal and heart failure. He gave me the look that said, “Let me go.” I will sprinkle his ashes in the butterfly garden.

Cinnamon Bread

Lisa brought me cinnamon bread
when my dog Charlie died.
Shirley made oatmeal cookies
as though sweet carbs could fill
me, help me forget the lonely

walk without holding a leash,
opening the door without the wag of tail.

Can I take a taste inside
to keep sadness away?

Can I drop a crumb and not look
down for the dog to lick it up?

There are days he lived only to comfort me.
Little ankle licks to let me know I was loved.

Familiar becomes foreign
until time adjusts us,
keeps us upright
ready to be crushed again.

Margaret Simon (dedicated to Charlie Dog Simon)

Posted in Gratitude, Slice of Life | Tagged Charlie, dogs, Ethical ELA, pets | 7 Comments »

Poetry Friday: Breath for Flesh

September 15, 2023 by margaretsmn

Rose has the round-up at Imagine the Possibilities

This week I have felt nearer to normal. I’ve been thinking about teaching and preparing lessons for my return on Monday. I’m pushing away concerns that I have no control over. Yesterday I invited a neighbor, a retired teacher, to cut and paste magazine words onto Jenga blocks, an idea that originated with Paul Hanks and used by Kim Johnson. (See this post.)

I get a lot of poems in my inbox. Some days it’s too overwhelming to read them all. Some days I find inspiration in a line or a form or an idea. This week I found a first line from Ching-In Chen’s poem Breath for Metal.

Breath for Flesh

This a story
I’ve kept
inside my soft
body. I’ve discovered

breath dissolves
fever–practiced pulling
in, hold, hold,
hold–
sigh.

I am being gentle with her,
speaking softly
through tears
like a light rain in fall.

Release
is real.
Margaret Simon, draft

Posted in Poetry Friday, Writing | Tagged #healingtime, #poemsofpresence, Ching-In Chin, Poets.org | 19 Comments »

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: September Sunset

September 13, 2023 by margaretsmn

I chose to find beauty every day in the month of September. It’s everywhere, if you look. I’m sharing my photos with #septemberbeauty on Instagram. The photo I chose for today came in a text from my daughter who is overseeing a photo shoot in Florida for her ad agency. She was scheduled to go when Hurricane Idalia arrived.

I am lucky that my three daughters communicate almost daily in a group text with me. They send videos and photos and general check-ins. Last night Martha sent a photo of baby June at 8 months gnawing on a piece of pork. They are in the stage of trying out different foods with her. We all enjoyed the funny image.

Katherine sent a beach sunset photo with the message, “My evening.” We know she is working, so the image is not quite as stress-free as it looks, but I found it beautiful and hopeful.

South Walton Beach, Florida by Katherine Simon

I sit beside you
feel your pain; smooth ruffled fur.
Loving to the end.
Margaret Simon, haiku draft

I didn’t mean to place my sadness here, but poetry is like that. It pulls it out of your soul. My dog of 16 years is dying. I’m struggling to let him go.

Please write a small poem of your own in the comments. Encourage other writers with your comments.

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem | 42 Comments »

Spice of Life: Old-Fashioned Cards

September 12, 2023 by margaretsmn

When was the last time you wrote a card or letter and put a stamp on it and raised the little metal flag on your mailbox? With emails and texts, it’s easy to send a quick message to a friend. But when someone is sick or going through a tough time, many (women for the most part) turn to the old-fashioned card in the mail. I have quite a collection of cards from my multiple health issues. And many of them came from my blogging community.

I recently got a notice from WordPress: Happy 14th Anniversary! I have been blogging for 14 years. When I started, I had no idea what I was getting into. A writer friend was doing it, mostly to review books. So I tried it out. Found Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Challenge and through that community found Poetry Friday. I coordinate the Spiritual Thursday group and This Photo Wants to be a Poem.

All along the way I thought I was self-serving, getting my writing out in the world, craving comments and recognition. But something entirely unexpected and beautiful happened. I built a community of friends. Friends who see me, know me, care about me, and send me cards when I’m sick.

Today I celebrate You! You are a buoy, a gift of friendship, and my circle. Thanks for the comforting words, the beautiful cards, and especially for the thoughts and prayers. I am healing and taking each day step by step. I believe my experience will help me be a better friend to my widest of circles.

Cards left to right, top to bottom, from Connie Castille, Dani Burtsfield, Michelle Kogan, Linda Mitchell, Laura Shovan, and golden plant butterfly from Jan Annino.

(Message from Jan)

Down near the bottom
of the crossed-out list
of things you have to do today,

between “green thread”
and “broccoli” you find
that you have penciled “sunlight”
Tony Hoagland in How to Love the World

Posted in Blogging, Gratitude, Slice of Life, Writing | Tagged #gratitude, Blogging community | 8 Comments »

Poetry Friday: Erasure

September 8, 2023 by margaretsmn

Creative endeavors are returning to me. It feels good and right. I recently read the poems in The New Yorker of August 28, 2023. The poem What’s Poetry Like? by Bianca Stone was popping out to me as a perfect erasure poem. I enjoy whittling down to essential words. I found another poem here with a slightly different meaning than hers. I hope she is the type of poet who knows the highest form of flattery is imitation.

Poetry

Poets play love
essential moment, shared
written

resuscitate wildlife
disappearing ourselves

Poetry finds deficient
words, immortal
hunt

you’re trying to get back
bittersweet tongue,
all the emoting,
all the surrender

reckless
insight, hidden
wisdom slips into truth

the form itself
words that sing yet-

unspoken things wafting
waiting to be opened.
Margaret Simon, erasure poem from What’s Poetry Like? by Bianca Stone
The New Yorker, August 28, 2023

The Poetry Friday round-up today is with Amy Ludwig VanDerwater at The Poem Farm.

Posted in Poetry, Poetry Friday, Writing | Tagged Bianca Stone, erasure poetry, The New Yorker | 18 Comments »

Spiritual Journey: Grace

September 7, 2023 by margaretsmn

Spiritual Journey posts are gathered by Patricia Franz.

Patricia sent the Spiritual Journey bloggers (all are welcome) her topic for September: “Life at the speed of grace.” This topic is fitting for me as I have been forced to slow down to a full stop because of illness. I have moved beyond why and into acceptance. Each day in September I am posting a photo on Instagram of #Septemberbeauty.

I’ve never thought of September as a beautiful month. It’s still hot. The school year is usually moving along quickly after Labor Day. But when I stop, when I look, notice nature and my immediate surroundings, I can see beauty.

Hummingbirds come in September. Since I’m home, I can sit for a while and watch them frolic. Yesterday, the male and female at my feeder mated right before my eyes. It was like a hummingbird tornado, how they twirled in a fury dance. Then flew off in separate ways.

Patricia wrote a small poem here. I’m borrowing a line to do a quick write of my own.

Grace is Here

Grace abides here–
a hummingbird mating dance
a flutter of evening owl.

Grace fills me–
supermarket flowers
a friend tells a story.

Grace heals me–
words in a poetic card
light from the window.

Grace meets me
in this lonely space
God listens.
Margaret Simon, draft

Posted in Gratitude, Poetry, Spiritual Growth, Writing | Tagged #grace, #Septemberbeauty, Patricia Franz, spiritual journey | 10 Comments »

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: After the Storm

September 6, 2023 by margaretsmn

Patricia Franz sent me this photo a few weeks ago following Hurricane Hilary near La Jolla, CA. The photo was taken by her friend Lynette Barravecchia. This photo has a definite Pacific Coast vibe about it. I live near the Gulf Coast, and the Pacific behaves very differently, much rockier with large waves are to invite surfing. I don’t think I would feel safe wading into the waves. I love to watch them, though.

After the storm, near San Diego, California by Lynette Barravecchia.

A ghostly mist
rises over ocean flow
bidding mystery
Margaret Simon, draft

Where does this photo lead you? Are you drawn to the invitation to write? Leave your small poems in the comments. Encourage others with your responses.

Posted in This Photo Wants to be a Poem, Writing | Tagged Hurricane Hilary, Lynette Barravecchia, mist over Pacific Ocean, photography, small poems | 19 Comments »

Spice of Life: The Artists

September 5, 2023 by margaretsmn

I often find that when I read poetry, I am inspired to write poetry. Yesterday I read the poems in August 28, 2023 issue of the The New Yorker. I loved Major Jackson’s poem The Nature of Memory. In this poem, he describes a happy memory using the specific names of his children. His final line grabbed me: “I hope they love themselves loud as that day,/ light-drunk, kicking up sand. I opened my notebook and poured out the story of Sunday afternoon as I observed my grandchildren Leo (4.5) and Stella (2.5), and their friend Nils, side-by-side creating their own art under the watchful yet permissive eye of my daughter. Did I ever allow such free art in my own children? I hope so.

Love Themselves Loud

I watch the side-by-side
play of toddlers. Leo like a turtle
crouched on the table laser-focused
drawing a rocket heading to earth, a round
blue and green ball. Stella paints her hands
pressing layers of color into a star of hands.
She moves

to her feet making them pink
like her beach shoes. Nils beside
her paints his hands and feet green–
his body a canvas for a green monster.

Later they come together
in toddler madness jumping from the top bunk.
“Only jump onto the bean bag.”
No one is injured before the game changes
to Lego building and pizza.

I hope they love themselves loud
as this day painting a landscape,
making their mark.
Margaret Simon, draft