Daughter, Mother – Spring, Summer

May 9, 2023 ~ wordancerblog ~ 9 Comments

As Mother’s Day approaches, I. have been thinking a lot about my mom, Vivian, who died at the age of 91, almost ten years ago. She was a dress designer, seamstress, artist, and teacher. What I didn’t know until this week, was that she was a poet. Poetry was my father’s realm, so I guess she kept her poetry writing private.

My cousin’s daughter has been doing research recently on our family, and she found a newspaper clipping of a poem of my mother’s that was published in her local newspaper in 1953. She was 31 years old at the time and had a one-year-old daughter, my sister Vivian. Ever since I read my mom’s poem, I’ve been imagining her as a young wife and mother and the hope she had which she imbued in her poem, “Summer’s Coming.” It comforts me now and gives me renewed hope.

This week, the Kindergarten students at my school are busy learning to recite a spring poem I wrote several years ago called “Awaken the Peas.” As I listened to the children recite my poem, I realized how similar it is to my mother’s summer poem.

There is so much my mother has given me, and I’m learning more and more about her after her death. I often refer to her as “my first teacher,” and she continues to leave me lessons. I hope she knows that I am listening and will continue to listen until my final winter comes.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!

Object Connections: Janet Wong’s Poetry

March 6, 2023March 5, 2023 ~ wordancerblog ~ 5 Comments

Last week, I had an opportunity to attend a poetry workshop presented by Janet Wong and sponsored by Rutgers University Center for Literacy Development, which is directed by Dr. Lesley Morrow. Janet won the NCTE excellence in children’s Poetry Award in 2021. It is a lifetime achievement award, and one of the highest honors a children’s poet can receive. Before becoming a poet, Janet was a lawyer. Currently, she serves on the Yale Law School executive committee. However, decades ago she decided to change the direction of her life to become a children’s book author. She has published over forty books for children and teens on diverse subjects. This workshop was special to me because, as a member of the advisory board of RUCLD, I had been asked to help Janet throughout the day. I have always admired Janet, and now I got to spend the day with her.

Janet brought two large suitcase of props: flip-flops, popcorn, marshmallows, nori seaweed snacks, gummy worms, a rubber duck, a bunch of bananas, a bag of just-ripe avocados, a can of peas, an apple, an orange, an onion, a clove of garlic, and much more. As she read poems and told the stories behind the poems, Janet would give away objects as gifts to the audience members. This is where my job began. I put on my best “Vanna White” imitation – holding objects up in the air, smiling, and then racing around the conference space delivering the precious objects to participants.

One poem that Janet acted out for us and had participants act out in turn was “Noodle Soup.” It is a short, happy rhyming poem. From the repetition, alliteration, and whimsical rhyme, one would think it was just a funny kid poem. However, Janet told us the story behind this poem. When she was a child, she invited her best friend over for breakfast. Her mother made a steaming pot of wonton soup, Janet’s favorite. When her friend arrived late, she looked at the soup and said, “Don’t you eat ‘normal’ food for breakfast?” This hurt Janet immensely, but she never told her friend.

Another of Janet’s poems, “Waiting at the Railroad Café,” recounts a tense scene when Janet and her family were on vacation and went to restaurant to eat. When the family entered, it was like they were invisible. They weren’t greeted or taken to a seat. They weren’t given menus. They were completely ignored because they were Asian. That experience made a profound impact on Janet.

These two poems come from Good Luck Gold, which was the first book Janet published in 1994. Good Luck Gold & More was published in 2021 and took Janet’s original forty-two poem collection and added fifty more pages of prose explaining the backstory of each poem. I loved that Janet took everyday objects and connected them to times in her life. Out of that connection a poem was born. Many times we read poems but do not know the backstory. The backstory creates context and gives us a deeper understanding of the poem.

After her large group presentation, participants were able to attend a small group session with Janet. That session was designed to give participants a chance to write. Janet and I stacked copies of her various poems and spread a majority of the contents of her two large suitcases onto four long tables. As a warm-up, Janet asked us to match her poems with the objects that were displayed around the room. Then, Janet asked us to choose an object and write a poem about it. As we shared our poems, Janet gave away more objects to the poet-participants. It was clear that Janet has a generous spirit: she gave her time and knowledge freely. She enjoyed gifting people with the objects she had lugged from Seattle, Washington to Piscataway, New Jersey.

Below is the poem I wrote for my object – a small yellow rubber duck. The poem came to me as I remembered my friend, Arman, telling me how his son, Caram, did not like water and bath time at all. He would cry and cry. So I re-imagined how Caram could become in love with bath time.

As we packed up what was left of her belongings into now one suitcase, Janet encouraged me to keep writing and to join her summer initiative, Think Poetry, which will provide opportunities for teachers and librarians to publish their poems. As we departed, Janet stacked cookies, popcorn, and Nori seaweed snacks in my arms.

“Put them in your faculty room,” she said with a smile. “I couldn’t have had a more helpful partner today. We are a good team.”

I smiled, thanked her, and walked to my car juggling my teacher treats. Janet not only connected people to objects and experiences, she connected people to each other, and that is the true power of poetry.

Some Books by Janet Wong

Picture Books

Poetry Books

Anthologies Created with Sylvia Vardell

A Gift for Story

February 27, 2023February 27, 2023 ~ wordancerblog ~ 5 Comments

John Schu has a gift for story, and he wants to share it with EVERYONE he meets. This past week, I attended one of John’s professional development workshops sponsored by Rutgers University Center for Literacy Development directed by Dr. Lesley Morrow, my former professor and mentor at the Graduate School of Education. Throughout the hour, John drew us in and told us his story through the books he’s read. His mission is to connect readers to stories that will affect and change their lives.

John believes that stories save lives, and he proved it by telling us his life story, weaving events in his childhood to the books that helped him heal and grow. He was a shy boy, a boy who loved musical theater, a boy who loved to play school complete with his own grade and roll book, chalk, and red pens. With his imaginary class he could exert control and have some power over his world.

As he recounted his story, he gave vivid book talks about both current books and old favorites. His generosity is amazing, and he graciously gifted many books to his audience. John has developed what he coins as “the smell test,” because he loves the smell of books. He rates books using “the smell test,” and makes us laugh. Books that get high ratings on “the smell test,” have the capacity to touch one’s heart. Tiger Rising was that kind of book for John, and it led to a strong friendship with its author, Kate DiCamillo. John describes Kate as someone with a “capacious” heart, a term Kate used in her novel, Flora and Ulysses: The Illuminated Adventure to describe a person who is open-hearted, a person who can connect, empathize and heal. Periodically throughout the workshop, John had us chant Kate’s name. What a wonderful homage to a devoted friend. Good friends like good books are invaluable.

As we got to know John, he opened up more and more about why he became a teacher, a school librarian, then a school library ambassador, and then an author. He was funny and energetic and made us laugh; he was poignant and vulnerable and made us cry. What John conveyed in his workshop is what a book does every time a reader opens the cover and turns a page. Story is indeed important.

John had two teachers who served as reading role models. One was Dr. Mary Margaret Reed, who was his 5^th grade teacher. She was exuberant and eccentric and a reader. She knew how to entice children to read, especially a shy boy who needed some friends and some healing. John writes about Dr. Reed in The Creativity Project, which was edited by Colby Sharp. In the book, John wrote a letter to Dr. Reed expressing his admiration and confessing that he stole her copy of Matilda by Roald Dahl because he so greatly needed that book. He still has that copy of Matilda. Another reading role model came to John when he was in college. Her name was Dr. Penny Britton Kolloff. John was eager to become a teacher, and he worked so hard to do his best – maybe too hard. Dr. Kolloff recognized this, and she told John that to be a teacher one must learn self-care as she put a copy of A Fine, Fine School by Sharon Creech in his hands. John keeps a copy of the book displayed wherever he’s worked to remind him to keep in the forefront of his mind personal well-being.

At one point, John asked us our definition of story. I wrote: Story is like breathing in and out. I could not live without story. And when children tell me they hate reading, I remind them that they LOVE stories – and they agree. I remember when I was tutoring dyslexic children, and they would get discouraged because reading was so hard for them. It was such long, hard, and tedious work. They would tire and feel disappointed with themselves. I found ways to encourage them. I would empathize with them that reading was indeed difficult, but I would also remind them that they LOVED stories. They would nod their head and agree. Then, I would read aloud to them to help them energize and enter a story. After I read for a while, we would stop and share our thoughts and have deep conversations about characters, events, and make predictions about what might happen next. It was that anticipation that kept them going. They needed to know what was going to happen next.

John told us a great story about the anticipatory joy that reading brings. He recounted a time when he got a book in the mail and be became so absorbed in it that he spent the day taking the book with him to his living room chair, over to the refrigerator, back to the chair, then into the bathroom, then back to the chair and round and round again and again until he had only five pages left. That’s when a monumental decision loomed: finish the book or make it last a little longer. As avid readers we do not want the story to end. So John decided to go to sleep with the five pages unread. Of course, he tossed and turned in bed. He needed to know the ending of this now beloved story. He got up, went downstairs, sat in his comfy chair, and read the ending, tears flowing down his face. The story was complete. The book? The One and Only Ivan by Katherine Applegate. The story had changed him like all good stories do. John spent a lot of time telling everyone he could about The One and Only Ivan. It was a treasure he wanted to share. He even got a chance to meet Ivan and have Ivan autograph his copy of the book, by signing with his thumbprint in green.

This day with John was well spent. I now have a longer list of books to read, I have a box full of books from Amazon on their way, I have a renewed love of story, and I have found a kindred spirit and book whisperer extraordinaire.

Books by Mr. Schu

Connect with Mr. Schu

Some of the Books that Pass Mr. Schu’s Smell Test

Celebration in the Wonder Studio: Lunar New Year

January 29, 2023 ~ wordancerblog ~ 4 Comments

A dozen girls gather at recess time to work in the Wonder Studio. They are in the midst of painting, decorating, and constructing projects of their choice. This week, I added a box in the shape of a dragon’s head to celebrate Lunar New year. I quickly cut the box to look like a dragon with a wide pointed-tooth grin. The girls collected some found objects to make the dragon’s eyes, nostrils, and teeth. Then we all took turns collaging bright colored tissue paper all over the head in layers upon layers. Once completed, the dragon would be hung right outside their classrooms to celebrate Lunar New Year.

I have done this dragon project with countless students over several decades. I love this tradition because it always sparks children’s imaginations and makes the classroom atmosphere festive. I think the best way for young children to learn about other cultures is through celebrations (food, storytelling, and art). These are powerful ways in which to hold memories. When I was a classroom teacher, this art project would be the anchor for deep research into the holiday and the Asian culture. We read widely and began to understand these cultures and traditions more organically.

These days, I’ve noticed that with more and more emphasis on curricular initiatives there seems to be less and less time to celebrate, less and less time for conversations, and less time for connection. The classrooms are a rush of activity, one lesson after the next – go, go, go. Don’t stop. Don’t think. Don’t feel the struggle and joy in learning.

I’m glad I can eke out some time for kids to converse and create; some time to experiment and play; some time to celebrate the small things. They need to know the joy of taking a risk – of taking a cardboard box and transforming into something whimsical. There is magic held within that simple box, and I want children to experience that creative power.

As they worked, they began asking questions about Lunar New Year. They began talking to each other naturally. Some of them knew quite a bit about the holiday and supplied lots of information with facts and personal experiences. Questions grew and so did the students’ understanding. They wanted to know more. They wanted to become part of the celebration.

Books About Lunar New Year

Stirring the Senses – Part 2

January 17, 2023 ~ wordancerblog ~ 4 Comments

Last week, I planned a winter sensory poetry lesson for out 2^nd graders. I decided to start with a slideshow of winter photographs and then brainstorm words that they might use in their poems. My goal was to quickly set them off to write so they’d have plenty of time to compose their poems and share them.

This week, I executed my plan. As I presented the slideshow, the girls looked intently at the photographs, which were a mix of nature scenes and people and animals in the snow. After watching silently, they shared their ideas as I wrote them down. We were collecting sensory words from what we had seen in the photos. The words would act as a jumping off point to create images for their poems.

Before they began to write, they asked some questions. One girl asked if she could use rhymes and I nodded my head. She sparked an idea in my head because I don’t normally compose rhyming poems. Since I always write when the children write, I decided to challenge myself and write a rhyming sensory poem. I think it is an important part of the writing process for children to see adults writing alongside children. I made sure the girls were all actively thinking and writing, and then I sat down with my own ideas. One student came over to see what I was writing, but I quickly redirected her to her own writing and told her that I would share at the end of class.

As the children wrote, I circled the room looking at their poetry and making observations that I thought would nudge their writing further.

That’s an interesting idea! You’re making an acrostic.
Wow! You are using such strong verbs.
Oh, you are including lots of sound words.

Like each child, like each snowflake, each poem was different, exquisite in its creation. They took their experiences of snow and thought about how it looked, smelled, sounded, tasted, and felt. They thought hard, they experimented with words, and they formed meaning to share with others. This time to play is necessary and important for writers. It connected what they have been reading, to what they have experienced, to what they have learned about composing a poem.

The Conversation Connection

November 29, 2022 ~ wordancerblog ~ 2 Comments

Teaching is a long conversation. It is an interplay of ideas and experiences. I was attracted to teaching because I love connecting with people, learning about their interests, and understanding how they think. I know from my own experiences as a student that the teachers who stopped and took time to talk to me were critical in building my sense of self and developing my reasoning skills. Without those conversations, I would not, on my own, have made the connections needed to grow my thinking.

When I was a classroom teacher, I made it my practice to check-in regularly with each student, not only during reading and writing conferences, but also to check-in on their social-emotional development: how they were feeling about friends and family, how they were able to handle stress. I knew that the way my students felt about themselves greatly affected their ability to persevere and learn. These teacher-student conversations were so rewarding; they built self-awareness, agency, and community. Most of the academic content might not be remembered, but I knew the social connections would be. Students would remember that someone listened to them and valued their opinions.

This week, as I worked with a small group of 4^th graders, I was reminded about how important connection truly is. We were working in the Wonder Studio, and I opened up my adjoining office to make more room for their crafting projects. In my office, I had hung a large display of my class photos over the span of my teaching career. Several students noticed the photos and started asking me questions. I was intrigued by how their questions were so closely connected to their personalities. The first one to comment was my logical reasoner and problem-solver, Jasara. She got close up to the photo and saw the date – 1979. “You have been teaching for 43 years!” she declared. I chuckled. Another student chimed in, “43! My father is 43!” Jasara kept analyzing the photos, but what she focused on were the numbers: in 1985, I was teaching for 6 years; in 1993, I was teaching for 14 years. I was relieved when she couldn’t find any more dates. I was beginning to feel very old indeed.

Then Maren came to inspect the photo. She is confident and competitive. Maren looked intently at all the children’s face. “Which one was your favorite,” she demanded.

“I liked them all,” I declared.

She narrowed her eyes at me, “You had to have had a favorite.”

I started to feel defensive but kept calm. “They were all great kids: Charlie was a great sailor, Ben made me laugh, Stephanie was quiet and thoughtful, Antonio wrote plays…”.

Maren cut me off, “My mother says she doesn’t have a favorite, but I know she does.” And with that she trounced off to get some fabric.

I breathed a sigh of relief. If I were to be completely truthful, I enjoyed the company of all the children. But there are a few who still keep in touch with me, who now as grown-ups take time to reach out to me. So yes, Maren is probably right, but I’m not going to tell her unless she calls me up ten years from now to see how I’m doing!

Darlene was listening to these conversations the whole time. She sat by my side working and listening. Finally, she got up and took a closer look at the photos. She looked at all the little faces of strange children now adults. She also went over to some other photos I had on another shelf. The photos were of some former students, who are now adults, with careers and children of their own.

Then she came back to my side. “I’m going to be in one of those photo frames,” she said pointing. Then quickly added, “But they won’t be here in your office. They will be at your home because you’ll be retired by then.”

I smiled and gave her side-hug, “And we can meet for tea, and you can tell about all the wonderful things you are doing.”

Darlene’s face glowed, “Yes, yes! I’ll tell you about my newest cookbook.” This was an inside joke. I have been encouraging Darlene’s writing through reading and making recipes for the past three years. I have no doubt that her grown-up face will one day grace my bookshelf, as well as several of her award-winning cookbooks!

Forest Bathing: Autumn Plunge

October 16, 2022 ~ wordancerblog ~ 4 Comments

The last time I was in Vermont, it was summer – July to be exact. Everything was green in the green mountains, and I was in need of some physical, emotional, and spiritual healing. I had read about the Japanese practice of Shinrin-yoku, or Forest Bathing. I immediately loved the image that came to mind – walking down woodland paths or up steep mountain paths and soaking in all that nature has to offer. My summer Forest Bathing post can be viewed here.

As is our tradition, my husband and I travel up to Vermont in October to witness the leaves changing color in all variations of radiant yellow, orange, russet, red, crimson, and purple. This year was a spectacular display. Whenever we went there was vibrant color – a real-life watercolor – colors blended into each other and the sky was a clear, cloudless blue. I could not wait to get into the woods, to surround myself with color, with the natural signs of the changing seasons. As I walked, I took photos and wrote poetry in my head. This is what my Autumn plunge created.

Ingenuity

September 28, 2022 ~ wordancerblog ~ 5 Comments

Webster dictionary defines ingenuity as “skill or cleverness in devising or combining,” while Oxford describes it as “the ability to invent things or solve problems in clever new ways.” When speaking with children about the word ingenuity, one adventurous student replied, “Maybe it means a new engine.” And in a way, she is correct. Ingenuity is like a new engine: it is revved up and ready to go.

This week, I’ve been forced to relax and reflect at home due to a classic head cold. I have not sneezed this much in a long time! Wandering my small space, I began to think up interesting brews that might make me feel better. I am a tea drinker, so I like to experiment: mint tea with lemon and honey, black tea with orange and cardamom, green tea with ginger, lemon, and honey, chai tea with extra cinnamon and cider, the list goes on and on. I sip cup after cup and feel warm and comforted.

As dinnertime rolled around, I realized I needed more sustenance than tea, so I started thinking about soup. I didn’t look in my many cookbooks – No! That would be too ordinary, too mundane, too reliable. I decided to invent some soup recipes. I needed strong flavors that would clear up my sinuses. First, I made a hardy chicken tortilla soup, full of tomatoes and a bit of jalapeños. The next day, I made a miso broth filled with onions, garlic , ginger, lemon, and snow peas. It smelled so good, that I kept sticking my face over the pot to breathe in the aromatic steam. Then, I thought back to my Italian roots and made a vegetable-based soup filled with pureed basil and garlic, potatoes, and chickpeas. The smell of basil always reminds me of my Grandpa Tony. He was a consummate gardener and grower of basil. The soups were all wonderful. I loved creating them from scratch without any compass. I just let my mind flow and combine the tastes I love.

Feeling a bit better from my soup consumption, one afternoon I took a short stroll around my neighborhood. It was a warm September day – blue skies with a bit of a breeze to let us know fall is surely on its way. Suddenly, I became aware of wild movement. I look across the street and a girl, about eleven or twelve-years-old with long dark hair, is sitting at the top of her driveway on a red stool with wheels. The stool resembles an office chair without a back. In her hand is a large push broom. The girl propels herself down the inclined driveway, using the broom as a kind of oar or rudder. She is whirling and twirling down the drive. She leans back on the stool and is giggling with delight. She uses the broom to steer herself back uphill and does the whole swirling motion again and again. I move quickly on. I don’t want her to see me because I don’t want to interrupt her joy.

As I walk away, I smile to myself. Witnessing that type of ingenious joy reminds me of when I was eleven and twelve. My friends and I loved creating games out of things we found in our yards and around our neighborhood. One time, we made a hammock of old woven rope. It was a wonderfully intricate invention. When I hopped in, it enveloped me rolled me around and out onto the ground while still keeping hold of my left foot. I lay on the ground writhing in laughter. My friends had to rescue me, and that was all part of the experiment. Another time, I found an old skateboard with chipped wheels. I was adamant that it was still useful. I hopped on it down a steep hill with an old hockey stick for balance. Thank goodness for that hockey stick. The skateboard hit a stone and abruptly stopped, and I had to use the stick to break my fall. Even when my inventions failed, I was not deterred. I loved the process of experimentation. I loved thinking up new possibilities.

As I walked back to my home, I saw my young neighbor again. She was still in the process of creating her red stool ballet. Her body was staying back and forth in a curlicue fashion. She was pure poetry in motion. Maybe she was inventing a new Olympic game: a cross between luge and curling or skateboarding and polo. Or maybe she was just having fun!