February Face

February is a hard month for me.  It is the middle of winter: the snow is no longer a novelty, and the cold and gray gets to be too much for my spirit at times.  I try to lighten up the days literally with candles and sunny yellow tulips from the local supermarket.  I’ve grown fond of eating tart lemon curd pudding.  I’ve grown too fond in fact!

This past Thursday, February 25th would have been my mother’s 99th birthday.  She died almost eight years ago at the age of 91.  She had a nice long life, but not long enough for me.  I miss her every day.  I miss her smile, her shining eyes, her chats about books and kids and recipes.  She was my first teacher, and she was also many children’s teacher for over twenty years. She loved her 2nd graders and would regale our family with story upon story of their triumphs and tribulations. Later, I would regale her with stories of my own students.

It was one February day when my dad called to say that my mom had had a heart attack.  She was seventy-one at the time.  I remember rushing to the hospital where she had to undergo a quadruple bypass operation.  I was terrified but tried to hide it.  She looked at me, grabbed my hands, and looked me in the eye, “Don’t worry.  I am no ready to go.  I am going to make it through.  I’m not going anywhere.”  And I believed her. And she was right.  She had an incredibly long and difficult recovery, but in May that year on Mother’s Day, she was finally released from the hospital and began a slow and steady healing process.

February brings with it a bunch of conflicting emotions for me. Time to celebrate my mom’s birth, time to remember and honor her, but also time to miss her and long for her soothing voice and calm reassurance.  She would tell me everything was going to be okay, and I would believe her.  This February, her 99th year, I wanted to find a way to celebrate her life.

A fellow blogger, Julie Cox, wrote a post last week about a Shakespeare book, Shakespeare for Every Day of the Year by Allie Esiri.  She started the post with the quote from Much Ado About Nothing:

Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what’s the matter

That you have such a February face,

So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness

When I read those words and suddenly a sad, icy facial image came to mind.  I smiled to myself. I immediately knew what I was going to do to honor my mom and her love of books and children. I would have my 4th grade students draw and write about February Faces.  During class, I explained that I was reading Julie’s blog and came across Shakespeare’s quote.  I wanted students to understand that inspiration for writing can come in many different ways and to always be on the lookout for writing ideas.  I read the quote and asked the children what they thought a February face might look like. A multitude of adjectives came flying towards me: sad, grumpy, depressed, icicle hair, hard beady eyes, pale blue skin, happy, wrapped in wool, loving February 14th.  I loved that I received both positive and negative images of February.  After I read the quote, the students said that they wanted to read it aloud.  It wasn’t something I planned for but something they all added to the lesson.  It was an important way for them to connect to Shakespeare’s words.  Many students volunteered, some donning English accents and projecting their dramatic best.  This naturally added to their engagement.  Before I set them out to write their own poems, I modeled what I thought a February face looked like, drawing a simple sketch on the board.  Then I asked the children to help build a poem together. These are two examples of the group poems we created.

After we created the group poems, the girls set to work drawing their February faces and composing their poems.  They worked diligently and I cannot wait to see what they finally create.  One student called me over to her desk and asked if the February face had to human and gave me a mischievous smile.  When I looked at her paper, she was in the process of drawing an Ice Dragon. “Brilliant idea,” I whispered.  “Keep working.  I want to see what you create!”

More than concentrating purely on the product, I think it is essential for kids to experience the process of generating and idea, brainstorming possibilities, and thinking outside the box to create one’s own images, whether they are visual or written.  At first, when I said my writing idea this week was from Shakespeare, they all squirmed in their seats a bit.  They thought Shakespeare was going to be too hard for them.  But in the end, they realized that they could understand Shakespeare and respond to his words with unique and well-thought out ideas.

This week, I will give them plenty of time to share and respond to each other’s work. I hope Shakespeare will be a source of inspiration for them for years to come.

Shakespeare for Children

  • A Stage Full of Shakespeare Stories by Angela McAllister
  • Hamlet for Kids by Lois Burdett (Shakespeare Can be Fun! Series)
  • Illustrated Stories from Shakespeare by Shakespeare
  • Shakespeare 16 Books Children’s Story Collection Set by Tony Ross
  • Shakespeare for Kids: 5 Classic Works Adapted for Kids: A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Macbeth, Much Ado About Nothing, All’s Well that Ends Well, and The Tempest by Familius
  • Tales from Shakespeare by Marcia Williams
  • The Shakespeare Book: Big Ideas Simply Explained by DK Media Company

Write Now: Building a Community of Writers

I cannot remember a time that I did not like to write. Putting a pencil in my hand was giving me my turn to speak.  I loved creating imagined worlds, pouring my heart out, and writing about what could have been and what might yet be.  Writing expanded my horizons.  I get to live more life by writing.  Sometimes it baffles me when the small children in front of me have trouble finding an idea or organizing a thought.  I study them intently, hoping to find a magic strategy that will get them to see themselves as people who enjoy writing.  Magic does come, but not in the way I think it should or would.  Magic comes by writing every day. Allowing space in your day to put the pencil to the page or the fingers to the keys. It comes from allowing yourself to tell your story to others through your hands.

It had been more than forty years since I was part of a community of writers.  In college, I took part in writing groups, collectives, workshops.  After college that stopped, and I wrote for myself, not sharing with anyone until I forced myself to put the piece in an envelope and send it to strangers, who would return it most often with a kind rejection. That did not feel right. I started to think of those stories and poems as rejected, not good enough and that made me avoid writing every day.  But I have an intrepid heart and a yearning to be heard so I eventually picked up the pencil and started writing for myself and my invisible audience.  Over the years, I have written with and for my students.  I encourage them to have intrepid hearts and tell their stories. We build communities and we cultivate gardens of ideas to write about. 

The simplest magic strategy is to LISTEN.  When we listen to kids, whether they struggle to write or easily skip along the page, we can help them move along as writers.  We can connect to them and start the conversation.  Sometimes we go off topic. Okay, many times we go off topic, but that’s just the point.  Our magical winding conversations always lead to wild writing that excites us and beckons us to write more.

Another simple strategy that works for me all the time is to READ.  When I was a very young writer, I would read and imitate.  When I was a young adult writer, I considered that way of writing to be cheating, so I stopped reading.  Do you know what happened then?  My words became stiff and wooden; my ideas were flat and dull.  When I picked up books again, it kickstarted my imagination, and I was off and writing again.

I am so grateful to be part of a blogging community this year.  As much as I love to write every week, I love to read the posts of my fellow bloggers.  I have a connection to them even though we have never met. I have shared their joys and their sorrows, their book recommendations, their recipes for apple cake and jerk chicken taco, their photos of gardens and pets, and oceans and grandchildren. I am fortunate to have this treasure of ideas waiting for me each week. 

Last week, Fran Haley posted a photo of her dog, Dennis, and a poem called “Little Dog Dreams.” This small piece of writing got me to thinking how I could help my 4th grade students out of their winter doldrums.  They have been sitting listless behind their shields of plexiglass for weeks now, and I needed something to perk up their imaginations.  Fran’s little poem was just the thing!  I knew my nine and ten year old girls would fall in love with Dennis and that would spur them to write “Little Dog Dream” poems. 

First, I showed them the photo of Dennis circle up in a comforter, head bowed, ears inside out, a picture of perfect sleep.  Then I read Fran’s small 8-line poem.  We talked about how Fran constructed her poem: two stanzas with four lines each.  We talked about the rhyme scheme and noticed Fran’s word choice – vivid adjectives and strong verbs. Next, we brainstormed words that might go into a “Little Dog Dream” poem.  Our list looked something like this:

Now the girls were ready to write.  They quickly got out their pencils and started to compose.No one had trouble getting started.  They began talking to each other – telling funny dog stories.I had forgotten to leave some time for talking and sharing, but they did so naturally, and I let it be.  Soon the room was quiet and poems began to appear on their papers just like magic.

Emily and Hadley wrote acrostic poems:

Lovable

Incredible

Totally Adorable

Tiny

Loves a belly rub

Energetic

Delightful

Outstanding

Graceful

Lauren and Maddie tried their hand at rhyming:

 LITTLE DOGS DREAM
 by Lauren
  
 Little dogs dream about an owner who cares
 Little dogs don’t dream about teddy bears,
 They are not selfish. They’re happy and proud.
 They are happy to be alive and they don’t ask for much
 Now it’s your turn. Put yourself in the dog’s shoes.
 You would love treats and teddy bears, but
 No! I bet that you would be happy with an owner
 Now imagine you on the streets with no owner.
 I bet you would not ask for much.
 You are happy to be alive.
 Now come back!
 Come alive!
 And imagine that dog life! 

 
 
 LITTLE DOG DREAMS
 by Maddie
  
 Snuggled up on their own little bed
 Thinking about warm thoughts in their head.
 Running through the cold snow
 Sinking and getting low
 When they reach their owners arms
 Safe but alarmed
 When they hear a weird sound
 They cover it up with howling and jumping around.
 When they get back to their cozy home
 Happy thoughts are what they dream. 

My dreamers, Laila and Caroline, added some imagery:

Little Dog Firefly
 by Laila
  
 Flying in the air,
 A firefly lands on my dog’s nose
 My dog just sits there
 Staring into the starry sky,
 Loving and kind.
  
 Little Dogs Dream
 by Caroline
  
 Little dogs dream of jumping
 Into a pool of treats,
 Little dogs dream of owners
 Petting and loving them.
 Little dogs dream of going outside,
 Chasing squirrels, hugging trees,
 And scaring all the birds.
 Little dogs dream
 What little dogs dream! 

And always practical, Ashley, easily took on the voice of her beloved dog, Gerty. 

 Gerty’s Dog Dreams 
 by Ashley
                          
 Some yummy food better come soon! 
 Otherwise I go to the bathroom on the floor! 
 Ahhhh … YAY…  I see food!!!  
 Wait…  Mom is LEAVING ME 
 Oh no. I have to FOLLOW HER. 
 Even though I know she hates it 
 when I follow her. Whatever. 
 Oh man, Cameron is taking me to her zoom call. 
 Ahhh... why is everyone saying AWWWW?
 What is so cute? Wait is it me? 
 Heh, probably I am so… cute!  
 Is this my purpose? Haha! Yay.                                              
 The next day ...                                                                                
 Wait... what? Why is Ashley screaming my name? 
 Let me go to… Taylor's room!  
 Ahhh… I am trapped! 
 Man, I should have gone to Ashley. 
 Let me out Taylor!! 
 Please!!!!!!! Help someone!!! 
 Yay Dad let me go!! 
 Wait, Taylor has me. 
 She is taking me… AHHHH. 
 Ok let's follow Mom again! 
 Mom is moving the furniture again 
 She said it’s the last time!                                      
 That night, 
 Ok let me go to Dad and make him pet me! 
 Ok… just been 10 minutes. 20 minutes.. 
 Dadddddd pay attention to meeeeeee, pleaseeeee!! 
The next day when Emily comes….
 Hmmm… What should I do? 
 I am bored of following mom.. 
 So… Wait, Emily is here!  
 Yay! She is wearing her black leggings 
 now I can shed on her again!!! 
 Mommy gets mad 
 when I shed on her. Whatever. 

And Olivia, who is a devoted cat lover, quietly flipped the theme and wrote this:

 Little Kitten Dreams
 by Olivia
  
 Small kitten sleeping
 Snow covering its white pelt
 Dreaming about prey
  
 Catching sixteen mice
 Running free in the wild
 Freedom is so sweet
  
 Waking up at dawn
 Went to fulfill its wishes
 And fulfill its dreams 

I am so grateful for Fran’s inspiration this week and ever so grateful to be able to spend my weeks writing with children.  They never cease to provide me with magic and promise.  Indeed, I learn from them every single day.

Oh, How I Love Thee: Let’s Shout it Out!

February holds a special place in my heart.  Not because it’s my birthday month, that will come soon enough, but because it is the month of my anniversary, my Grandpa Charlie’s and my mother’s birthday.  She would have been 99 this month!  When February rolls along, I bring out my red:  little heart dishes, candles, flowers, and little things to brighten and cheer this long winter space.

In the classroom, I turn to poetry and talk to the children about loving kindness, first to themselves and then to others. We make lots of lists of the things we love. These lists mostly revolve around family and food. We practice writing odes and shout outs to all the things we love and are grateful for. Odes were originally songs performed to the accompaniment of a musical instrument, and sometimes a brave soul will write a song and perform it.  I love these small moments of celebration: no cake, no presents, just the simple pleasure of the written and spoken word.

To begin introducing odes to the children I choose Pablo Neruda’s “Ode to Tomatoes.” I think the sparseness and brilliant imagery will capture their attention and imagination.  This is how Neruda begins:

 Ode to Tomatoes

 The street
 filled with tomatoes,
 midday,
 summer,
 light is
 halved
 like
 a
 tomato,
 its juice
 runs
 through the streets.
 In December,
 unabated,
 the tomato
 invades
 the kitchen,
 it enters at lunchtime,
 takes
 its ease
 on countertops,
 among glasses,
 butter dishes,
 blue saltcellars.
 It sheds
 its own light,
 benign majesty. 



 Neruda perfectly places each word and gives each the importance it deserves.  After the students choose an object of their affection, I ask them to write a list of all the words to describe that object.  We share the lists and our classmates offer more suggestions.  Then it is time to write. Here are a few the students created. 

 Ode to Horses
 by Maggie 
  
 Horses galloping
 in the middle of the night
 when nobody is watching,
 their manes flying in the wind
 as they go by.
 They talk to each other
 with a simple “Neigh.”
 When the sun comes up,
 they are all tired from a long night.
 Their eyes still glow with delight.
 They have a long day,
 but they keep on trotting on
 because they know
 what the night brings.
  
  
  
 Ode to Candles
 by Evelyn 
  
 Candles
 Out in the living room
 Aspiring to burn the brightest
  
 Standing tall and proud
 Wax running down the side
 Beautiful
  
 When the flame has died
 It goes to sleep
 Dreaming about a great flame
  
 The people huddle round
 Outside the snow falls
 And falls
  
  
  
 Ode to Puppies
  
 Hadley
  
 Oh puppies!
 Your fluffy feet
 And velvety ears
 Make me want to cuddle you all day long!
  
 You make me smile
 When you run around on your fluffy feet
 And when you curl up into a ball to sleep
 You make me want to hug you
  
 Your tiny teeth may nip,
 And your miniature claws may scratch
 But I love you just the same.
  
 Oh Puppies!
 I love your little tail
 As it wags, wags, wags
 And your round tummy
 As you chow on yummy food
  
 You make me laugh
 When you chew on a bone
 And chase your tail
 And lie down on your bed
  
 Oh Puppies!
 I love you
  
  
 Ode to My Goggles
 by Indiya 
  
 During the day my goggles 
 Open their eyes and see
 All the swimmers swimming.
  
 They swim with me
 In the pool
 And protects my eyes.
  
 At night they dream
 Of swimming in the ocean,
 Seeing all the fish and coral.
  
 They wake up,
 Ready to swim.
 Thank you, goggles!
  

Another poem type I came across recently are Shout Outs.  Shout out poems are poems that thank people, animals or things that are personally important. Sekou Sundiata created this type of poetry.  His poem has a lot of music in it. Here is a small part of his poem. You can listen to the entire poem here: SHOUT OUT!

 Shout Out
  
 Here’s to the best words
 In the right place at the perfect time
 Here’s to three hour dinners
 And long conversations, 
 and a beautiful day.
 To the increase, to the decrease
 To the do, to the do
 To the did to the did
 To the done done
 To the lonely.
 To the brokenhearted.
 To the new, blue haiku.
 Here’s to all or nothing at all.
 Here’s to the sick, and the shut-in.
 Here’s to the was you been to the is you in
 To what’s deep and deep 
 To what’s down and down
 To the lost, and the blind, 
 and the almost found.

Here is my attempt at a Shout Out poem.  When teaching poetry to children, I think it is essential to write and create and revise right alongside them so that the class become a community of writers fully engaged in the process.

 Earth Shout Out
  
 Here’s to the seasons turning 
 To the bright spring flowers
 To the cardinals and jays singing in the trees
 Shout out to the clear blue sky
 To the fluffy whipped cream clouds
 To the children running and playing
 To their laughter and wild freedom.
 Shout out to the peaceful world
 To the beautiful earth
 To the golden sun and silver moon
 And to the twinkly diamond stars!
   

I encourage students to describe the things they love in unusual ways.  I don’t make them stick to one form and have fifteen cookiecutter poems.  I want them to explore the form and push the boundaries of their thinking. One great book to share with children is Shout!: Little Poems that Roar by Brod Bagert.

 Winter SHOUT OUT!!!
 by Emily
  
 Here’s to the snowy blizzards
 To the skiing vacations
 To the warm winter coats
 Shout out to the Christmas fun
 To the cozy Vermont cabins
 To the tight ice skates
 To the creamy hot chocolate
 Shout out to the warm, doughy cookies
 To the steep sledding hills
 To the family movies, snuggled under blankets
 And to the winter wonderland outside my warm, cozy house
  
  
 Shout out to Pizza
 by Cam
  
 Pizza is cheesy goodness
 Pizza is a great wheel of sauce
 Pizza I love your hot and cheesy flavor
 I love you with veggies on top
 I adore pepperoni too
 I shout to the sky
 Pizza you are the BEST!
  
  
 Shout Out to Ice Cream
 by Andrew
  
 Ice cream you are the dairy king
 You taste better than anything
 You come in a lot of flavors
 All which I savor
 Even though you’re very cold
 That makes you even more bold.
 You can be eaten in bowls,
 And you can be eaten in cones
 And with your toppings that are so delish
 You are my number one wish! 

Odes and Shout Outs are a great way to liven up these dreary winter days. They serve as a little light in the darkness.  They remind us about what we love and why.  They help us to reflect and have gratitude for the big and small things in our lives.

Here are some great books to celebrate loving kindness and Valentine’s Day.

Valentine Books

  • Arthur’s Valentine by Marc Brown
  • Guess How Much I Love You? By Sam McBratney
  • Happy Valentine’s Day, Mouse by Laura Numeroff
  • Here Comes Valentine Cat by Deborah Underwood
  • Hug Machine by Scott Campbell
  • Lilly’s Chocolate Heart by Kevin Henkes
  • Llama, Llama, I Love You by Anna Dewdney
  • Love from the Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle
  • Love from the Crayons by Drew Dayward
  • Love Letters by Arnold Adoff
  • Love Monster by Rachel Bright
  • Love, Splat by Rob Scotton
  • Louanne Pig in the Mysterious Valentine by Nancy Carlson
  • Ollie’s Valentine by Olivier Dunrea
  • One Zillion Valentines by FrankModell
  • Pete the Cat: Valentine’s Day is Cool by James Dean
  • Somebody Loves You, Mr. Hatcher by Eileen Spinelli
  • Snowy Valentine by David Peterson
  • The Best Valentine in the World by Marjorie Weisman Sharmat
  • The Biggest Valentine Ever by Steven Kroll
  • The Day it Rained Hearts by Felicia Bond
  • The Ballad of Valentine by Alison Jackson
  • The Valentine Bears by Eve Bunting
  • This is NOT a Valentine by Carter Higgins
  • Valensteins by Ethan Long
  • Valentine’s Day by Gail Gibbons

Mindful Mending

I have been thinking about sewing lately – mending specifically.  A couple of weeks ago, I came across a book that caught my eye, Mending Life A Handbook for Repairing Clothes and Hearts by Nina and Sonya Montenegro.  It’s cover is patterned and embossed.  I have always been attracted to that type of patchwork – collage style.  Something about the tactile diversity calls to me. The book is as much poetry and personal narrative as it is about actually sewing.  It is so inventive – weaving equal parts of story, poetry, drawings, and sewing together.  I had never seen a book quite like it.  I was enticed and started reading.  The authors’ words calmed and centered me.  I began recalling my history with thread and needle.  Funny how some things you loved to do in the past fade from memory, and then are quickly rekindled with a smell, an object, or a phrase. 

Before my mother became a teacher, she was a seamstress.  She worked to contribute to her family and put her two brothers and then her husband through college.  She was amazingly gifted.  She could look at a piece of fabric, fold it, pin it, cut it without a pattern and produce a blouse, a skirt, a dress, or a jacket.  My sister and I would watch her as if she were a magician – and she was.  She taught me to hem, put on a button, attach a zipper and sleeves.  I became interested in embroidery in my early teens.  I’d spend hours making designs on pillows, t-shirts and many of my jeans.  I wish I had kept those pieces and repurposed them.  I have one faded light green burlap pillow that made for my mom.  It is not my best work, it was one of my first, and I will always treasure it.

I continued with embroidery into college and young adulthood.  Embroidery helped me to stay centered. It calmed my mind. It helped me focus.  I entered the flow of the stitches, the lines and curves of the pattern, the feel of the needle sliding through the fabric.  One of my English professors invited us to create an artwork instead of a paper on Chekov for one assignment.  I took a big risk and embroidered a scene from The Cherry Orchard.  It wasn’t a perfect piece, but it did show that I took tremendous time to create the design and execute the stitches.  I got an A+, and the professor showcased it at our next session.  To my surprise, no one else had taken the art challenge that is why he added the plus. He wanted to reward risk-taking.  His message was loud and clear, and my classmates started to be bold and creative.  More inventive projects came pouring in that semester.

In my twenties, I went to see Judy Chicago’s The Dinner Party at the Brooklyn Museum.  I was astounded by her ceramic designs and needlework.  At the end of the exhibit, there was an announcement about Judy’s next endeavor – The Birth Project.  She was looking for quilters and embroiderers.  I quickly wrote down the information, went home and began producing embroidery samples to submit.  To my great surprise, I was accepted and I worked on a piece called “The Crowning,” for over a year and a half, meeting periodically with the other quilters and Judy when she visited New York.  That was a great experience for me.  I found a community of stitchers from all walks of life.  I also wrote a poem called “Power,” that Judy included in The Birth Project book. And I began to think that my life would turn toward the arts and crafting.

But it did not.  Like my mother, I turned toward teaching.  I continued to create with my students.  I kept containers of threads, needles, fabric, embroidery hoops, yarn for my students to experiment with.  For all the years I taught 2nd and 3rd grade, my classes would create story quilts.  We’d read Tar Beach by Faith Ringgold and a whole cavalcade of picture books about quilts and quilting. Yes, it is chaotic to stitch with twenty 7 and 8-year old children, but it is joyful too.  We’d sit in a large circle and attend to our stitching, everyone concentrating, everyone quiet.  We became a community in a way that we hadn’t been before.  We were creating something together, something that would be joined together.  When the quilts were completed, we presented them to the parents and our school community. I still have a couple of the quilts, but the majority of them were stolen from my car one year.  I always wondered what the thief did with a pile of children’s quilts.  There’s a story in that!

The Sewing Corner in The Wonder Lab

For the last twenty years, I’ve been stitching on paper using embellishments of buttons and beads and shells.  I enjoy taking a traditional art and seeing what I can do to change it, to make it my own.  I do these projects purely for myself.  I love choosing the colors and textures of paper.  I pour over the many different threads and floss I marry into the design.  The buttons and beads are a particular favorite.  One year, while vacationing I Vermont, I found a woman who made her own clay buttons.  They were rustic, asymmetrical, and perfect. 

I don’t embroider or mend as much as I would like to.  It seems there never is enough time.  I’m usually rushing and sewing is a slow activity.  I guess that is why I was attracted to Mending Life.  It was that object that sparked the memories that are in my hands.  Embroidery is an integral part of my life almost like writing is, but I didn’t realize that until this week, until I read the Montenegro sisters’ words:

Making something whole again is also a form of healing, and we humans have a deep desire to heal what is broken.  Learning to mend gives us a new lens through which to problem solve.  A garment or belonging we thought was beyond repair is now stitched back together by our own two hands and we discover we are more resilient than we thought.

That’s what kept me reading – that desire to heal myself and our country.  I wanted a blueprint on how to mend, how to put pieces back together, how to repair something, extend its life, make it last.

One of my favorite parts of the book is when the Montenegro’s talk about “A Spirit of Play.”  They recount how their father who was a carpenter and an artist, repaired everything in their home. He used bright red thread to repair watches, baskets, spoons, chairs, and his old brown leather belt.  By using the bright red thread he was celebrating rather than hiding the flaw.  I love this idea.  Don’t be bashful, bring attention to the old and broken – create it anew. 

Mr. Montenegro’s red thread was its own version of the Japanese ceramic repair process called kintsugi.  Broken pottery is repaired with gold lacquer, which highlight the mend instead of trying to make it invisible.  This makes the piece unique and beautiful in its own right. Kate Roberts also speaks of the healing power of kintsugi in her book, A Novel Approach: Whole-Class Novels, Student-Centered Teaching and Choice.  She artfully and thoughtfully explains:  The metaphor is an easy one: we embrace the flaws in our lives; we make beauty of the breaks. The reality is harder. My father couldn’t do it. His cracks grew over the years and even as he saw his life breaking apart, all he could do was lament what could have been. I have tried to learn from him. I have tried to use my cracks to become more open than I was, more empathic… I have tried to fill the breaks with gold.

I love this idea of repairing, mending, stitching together with “gold,” so the broken thing becomes beautiful and whole again.  Maybe that was why I was drawn to sewing and embroidery all along.  Maybe I was trying to repair my broken parts, trying to make something new and useful and unique.

One of my paper quilts, Five Buttons
 Mindful Mending
 
 Clothes sit in a pile
 On the edge of my bed,
 Waiting for attention.
 I sit down next to them:
 The khakis with the torn hem,
 The sweater missing its button,
 The shirt that split it’s seam,
 The sock with a hole in its toe,
 The old pair of worn-out jeans
 With a huge tear in one knee.
  
 I take a deep breath,
 I rather be doing something else,
 I inhale again… and exhale,
 I refocus my attention,
 Pick up the pants,
 Examine the hem,
 Thread the needle with
 As close a khaki colored thread
 As I can find – and start.
 I pierce the supple surface 
 Down and up, down and up again and again
 The thread slides through the fabric
 Until the hem secured.
  
  
 My hands take up the sweater
 It is my favorite: black, red, and white
 Thick and warm from Norway
 With embossed silver buttons
 One is missing now
 I find another in my button box
 It is not quite the same
 Will anyone notice?
 Does it matter? Do I care?
 I snip off the top button
 And put it in the place of the missing one
 Then I take the mismatched button
 And place it on top in full view
 Like that’s where it was meant to be
 I wrap heavy black floss around and around
 The button shank keeping it 
 Snug - sure not to fall off.
  
 My husband’s blue striped dress shirt
 With it’s tiny split seam is next
 I hold it up to my nose
 It smells like him
 I take a deep breath,
 I’m doing something for someone I love,
 I inhale again… and exhale,
 I refocus my attention,
 I find delicate white cotton thread
 And another sharp needle
 I concentrate on make tiny
 Identical stitches one after another
 After another until it is complete.
  
 There’s my old worn sock
 I take it in hands and examine it
 Is it worth keeping?
 The hole is quite large
 But the rest of the sock is perfect
 And they are my warmest
 They make my feet happy
 I search for charcoal gray yarn.
 But find only Prussian Blue.
 I begin to knit with my darning needle
 Chains of wool connecting loops
 Upon connecting loops
 This work is different
 I am not so much as attaching
 As I am creating more material
 I am making a toe-shaped space
 Prussian blue, all its own.
  
 My mending pile is gone
 Only my worn jeans are left
 The tear is huge and threatens
 To extend mid-shin.
 The fabric is flimsy and thin
 I think a patch is possible.
 I place a pretty blue and pink print
 Underneath the tear 
 Stitching it quickly in place
 Then I take up an abundance
 Of pastel floss and create blossoms
 Around the knee and down
 Along one side of my pants leg
 I keep adding flower upon flower
 Pink, yellow, blue, pale peach,
 A vine of mint green winds in and out
 My needle pokes and pierces,
 Loops and slides until it is picture perfect.
 My mending is done for the day.
 I take a deep breath.
 I inhale again… and exhale,
 I refocus my attention.
 
 
Mending Still Life

Books About Mending

  1. Fibershed: Growing a Movement of Farmers, Fashion Activists, and Makers for a New Textile Economy by Rebecca Burgess
  2. Fix Your Clothes: The Sustainable Magic of Mending, Patching, and Darning
  3. by Raleigh Briggs
  4. Joyful Mending: Visible Repairs for the Perfectly Imperfect Things We Love by Noriko Misumi
  5. Mend! A Refashioning Manual and Manifesto by Kate Sekules
  6. Mending Life: A Handbook for Repairing Clothes and Hearts by Nin and Sonya Montenegro
  7. Mending Matters: Stitch, Patch, and Repair Your Favorite Denim & More by Katrina Rodabaugh
  8. Modern Mending by Erin Lewis-Fitzgerald
  9. Slow Stitch: Mindful and Contemplative Textile Art by Claire Wellesley-Smith
  10. The Geometry of Hand-Sewing by Natalie Chanin
  11. The Hand-stitched Surface by Lynn Krawczyk
  12. Wear, Repair, Repurpose by Lily Fulop
  13. Wild Dyer by Abigail Booth
  14. What Will These Hands Make? by Nikki McClure

Quilt Books for Children

  1. Cassie’s Word Quilt by Faith Ringgold
  2. Early American Patchwork Quilt Designs by Susan Johnston       
  3. Eight Hands Round: A Patchwork Alphabet by Ann Whitford Paul
  4. Sam Johnson and the Blue Ribbon Quilt by Lisa Campbell Ernst
  5. Sweet Clara and the Freedom Quilt by Deborah Hopkinson
  6. Tar Beach by Faith Ringgold
  7. Texas Star by Barbara Hancock Cole
  8. The Bedspread by Sylvia Fair
  9. The Josefina Story Quilt by Bruce Degen
  10. The Keeping Quilt by Patricia Polacco
  11. The Patchwork Farmer by Craig Brown
  12. The Patchwork Path: A Quilt Map to Freedom by Bettye Stroud
  13. The Patchwork Quilt by Valerie Flournoy  
  14. The Quilt by Ann Jonas
  15. The Quilt Story by Tony Johnston
  16. The Seasons Sewn by Ann Whitford Paul   

Room for Writing: Entering A Poem

Though I’ve been writing stories and poems since I was four years old, I sometimes find it hard to actually sit down and write.  Often I walk and write in my head or just upon waking, write in my mind the wonderful idea I had while I was dream-waking.  Sometimes, I make the time to write them down, but most times they slip away, and my day gets filled with daily minutia.  As I’ve grown older, I try to be more consistent with my writing, because I am keenly aware of time and life slipping away.  Writing is important to me, and I need to be mindful of giving it the room it deserves in my life.  Without writing I know I would not fully be me.  Without writing, I would not be able to think through my problems or create new things.  Writing needs a conscious, breathing space.  Writing needs time.

Many of my writing ideas come from books I’ve discovered.  In the pre-COVID years, I loved to browse my favorite indie bookstores, wandering and reading hoping to come upon an interesting find.  I miss those days.  Buying books on Amazon is not the same experience.  I hope those bookstores find a way to survive because they were an important part of my inspiration.  It was in one of these now defunct bookstores where I found the little yellow treasure, FEG: Ridiculous Poems for Intelligent Children by Robin Hirsch.  In this book, Hirsch includes the poem, “Entering a Poem,” which is a brilliant and humorous way of introducing poetry to children.  It begins:

You enter a poem
 Just like you enter a room.
 You open the door
 And what do you see?
 A sink, for example,
 A bathtub, a toilet
 (Does a toilet belong in a poem?)
 And you say to yourself, “Aha
 It’s a bathroom.” 

Needless to say, I bought the book immediately and shared it with everyone I know.  I wanted to see what I could do with this subject.  I began to think of the old row house my husband and I lived in decades ago in Princeton.  It dated back to the early 1800’s and had a quirky charm.  It is this place that I thought of as I wrote my poem.

 When You Enter A Poem
  
 You enter a poem
 through the basement.
 Walking down several steep steps,
 you inhale a musty odor –
 the damp darkness.
 You reach above for the string
 that will turn on the light,
 you can’t find it.
  
 You shuffle and stumble,
 trying to adjust to the light.
 You begin to see outlines –
 shadows of things
 Could that be your old wagon?
 Is that a box of your books?
 You bump into an old rocking chair,
 you always loved that rocker.
 You’d sit on your mother’s lap
 as she told you stories,
 a cobweb gently touches your face.
 You swat it away.
 Where’s the light?
 You find the string and pull,
 but it does not go on.
  
 You know the poem is in here, somewhere,
 you reach out your hands
 and feel your way around -
 the cool, rough cinderblock walls,
 the smooth, curved oak chest
 the ragged, chipped-painted pipes.
 Your eyes are getting accustomed to the dark.
 You can now make out the wooden ceiling beams,
 the various pieces of furniture stacked with boxes
 the small, odd door on the far side of the room.
 There is a sudden scent of lavender 
 from some abandoned blooms
 forgotten in an old vase.
  
 You walk on feeling your way
 in the murky darkness.
 You come to the small, odd door.
 It is really just some rough-hewn planks
 crudely hammered together.
 A brass key protrudes from the lock.
 You try to turn it, you try to pull it out,
 but it doesn’t budge.
 You wonder what is inside
 and why it’s locked away.
 You try the key again.
 It won’t turn.
 You knock on the door -
 There is no one on the other side.
 You boldly bang and kick it,
 Throw your shoulder against it,
 it remains steadfast.
  
 You walk back towards the steps,
 You can make your way
 more easily through the darkness.
 A poem is like that –
 Some things become clearer,
 some remain secret,
 you turn and ascend the stairs.
 
 
Whenever I think of a lesson for children, I must try it out first and make mistakes.  Mistakes guide me in how to make the lesson better.  I welcome mistakes.  If my idea comes out too perfect, I don’t trust it.  There must be something I’m not seeing, not realizing.  This poem came out all at once, and I wondered if children would be able to create a visual space for how they enter a poem.  I tried it out with some 5th graders, and they easily delved into their poetry place. I think the humor imbedded throughout Hirsch’s poem helped them understand that poetry is accessible.  It can be about toilets and musty basements.  It can ask questions and not provide all the answers.  Indeed, it should raise more questions and make us wonder.

When sharing this idea with students, I first read aloud both Hirsch and mine own “entering a poem” poems.  We talked about how each poem was constructed and the form, language, and images the poets created.  Then I asked my students to think about a poem as a room in a home or space somewhere.  How do you get inside?  How do you begin to understand it?  I asked them to write an “Entering a Poem” poem. I told them that their “room” can be any type and anywhere.  It could be a bedroom, kitchen, secret room, tunnel, spaceship, a place outdoors, – whatever they imagined it to be.

 When You Enter A Poem
  
 by Lauren
  
 When you enter a poem...
 It’s like entering a kitchen
 First you stick out your hand, 
 Reach for the cabinet with the bowls.
 Take one large bowl and one small bowl.
 Then comes the eggs, flour, sugar, 
 chocolate icing, and honey 
 out of the refrigerator. 
 Next, beat two eggs 
 and some honey in the small bowl.
 Then mix the sugar and the flour 
 in the large bowl. 
 Time for wet ingredients!
 Put them in the large bowl 
 and mixed them together.
 Pour the batter in the pan,
 And put it in the oven.
 A half an hour later, 
 Take the cake 
 out of the oven
 and ice it
  
 Making a poem is like
 Making a cake
 Keep adding ingredients
  
  
  
 Come into the Poem
  
 by Maxine
  
 Come into the poem,
 It is a cool pool,
 Blue and deep.
 Dive down
 Make bubbles
 All the way.
 The fish swim
 Between your feet.
 The slick seaweed
 Wraps around your shoulders.
 Something sparkles on the
 Rocky ocean floor
 But you cannot reach it.
 The current takes you
 In another direction
 The water is murky
 It's hard to see clearly
 Then something beautiful
 Comes into view,
 Into the Poem,
 Cool and blue and deep,
 Delicate and full of wonder,
 A starfish on the sand
 Dancing gracefully
 Into the Poem. 

I look forward to playing with this idea with more groups of children.  What rooms will they create?  What fresh language will they invent?  How will they show me a new way of thinking?  What will they teach me next?

Zen Toolbox Redux

January is almost over.  We have elected a new president.  We have for the first time in history a woman vice president.  The COVID virus has several new vaccines, and they are slowly being distributed.  My family members and friends continue to be safe and healthy. I should feel hopeful.  I do not.  I feel drained. I have taken on two positions at school this year – learning specialist and curriculum coordinator – two giant jobs, and back in August I was certain I could handle both if I kept myself in balance. 

Now, I am not so sure.  It seems that there is premium on students who need support.  I am not the only one feeling stressed, anxious, and in desperate need of a shoulder, outstretched hand, or warm smile. This week, a student cried giant tears, which rolled down her cheeks soaking her mask. “I always get in trouble at school,” she declared. 

When I asked her to explain what happened to me.  She said that she couldn’t but that she could draw it.  So I gave her a piece of paper and some markers thinking she was going to draw the problem she was facing. Instead, her markers created brilliant springtime flowers, deep green grass growing wildly around a happy, fat house, with bright jaunty windows, a crooked chimney and a red door with the number 32 above it.  When I asked, “How is this the problem you are telling me about?” 

She looked at me like I had two heads and replied, “It’s not.  You see it’s 32, not 42 like the school.  I live at 32 Jockey Hollow Road and that’s where I want to be.”

I smiled under my mask.  She was a clear as clear could be. She did something wrong, and she wanted to escape back to safety. And safety to her was to be at home with her parents.  I was so glad she had a safe place.  I needed to help her feel that way at school more often, instead of feeling like the kid who’s two steps behind and doesn’t know where she put her pencil again, and the teacher is waiting, and her classmates are saying her name impatiently. Again. So I listen and I problem solve, and I offer her some kindness. When we get back to the classroom, they are doing art.  She returned to her seat and picked up her scissors and glue.  Her shoulders relaxed.  She had regained a bit of her balance.

I can empathize.  I often feel like that student did:  I’m going to be in trouble.   I can’t keep up.  I’m tossing all the plates, but I cannot catch them.  I try in vain to create pockets of peace and pleasure, but they are fleeting.  I remember my mother’s words: “Be good to yourself.”  I try. I do try. I remember the list I made in August, a Zen Toolbox to keep me content and on track and not to slip into the girl with her shoulders hunched up to her ears, running from task to task, holding her breath.  I look back at the toolbox and see the list of books, art, and music.  They are useful tools, and I have returned to their pages often to gain some inspiration. But now, at this time of year, I need another plan.  A more active direct plan, one in which I can push out the walls of my stress and create an artistic positive and more hopeful space.

I know it is imperative for me to do this.  I’ve read the literature on teacher burn out. According to some recent research, 66% of teachers want to leave education and 41.3% of new teachers leave teaching within the first five years on the job.  Given those numbers, I feel quite successful because I have been teaching for forty-two years.  I must have a secret, some ancient wisdom I can bestow on my fellow teachers. 

This week, I came up with these ideas.  They are not so much RULES, as they are affirmations about who I really am and the important work I do each day with children.  If I am to connect with my students and lift them up, I definitely need to make sure that I am being good to myself.

 1.    Create tissue craft paper collage studies.  Do a couple a week.  Remember to play.
 
2.   Treat myself to flowers at work often.  Do not make excuses.  Buy them on Monday.
 
3.   Whenever I feel stressed at work, pull back, go inside myself, take a walk, write or draw for 15 minutes.  No one needs me for 15 minutes.  Take the time.
 
4.   Remember to stay professional. Be about teaching and not personalities.
 
5.    Continue walking, exercising, stretching every day.  Try to exercise before school – at lunch and after school whenever possible.
 
6.   Make a list of writing projects and finish them.
 
7.    Remember creativity.  If I don’t do writing and art, my spirit dies and I become bitter.  The best part of me is my childlike enthusiasm.  Celebrate that!
 
8.   Make a list of art dates – schedule a day each month to do some extended art dates: sketch, collage, print making, water color, finger paint.
 
9.   Try something new every week: a new vegetable, a new shampoo, a new song, a new way of looking at the same things.
 
10.  Be an observer.  Go out into nature, breathe in calm, write what you   see, write what you feel.
 This is what I played with this week. Some reflections on nature and the healing power of trees, trying to find the quiet places. 
 Forest Senses
  
 The trail is laden
 with rain soaked stones -
 brown, gray, pale green
 and rust colored pine needles
 and last fall’s leaves
 now brown and brittle
 returning to the earth.
 The forest canopy -
 a colossal verdant umbrella
 letting the rays of the sun
 only in certain sacred spots.
 A huge elm has fallen,
 its two main branches
 now rest on its trunk
 like two great arms
 reaching out 
 still seeking salvation. 


 
 
 Shadow Play
  
 Clouds loom over the ridge line,
 Whipped cotton cumulus clouds
 Casting shadows on the hills,
 Dappled patterns,
 Bright patches 
 On the forest floor,
 Moss-covered stones,
 Glints of reflected light
 On the river’s surface.
 Dark green cool spots,
 Rocky crags and uprooted trees
 Hidden in silent repose. 

Sketchnoting: Making Thinking Visible

I love to doodle.  Whenever I am sitting and people are talking, I am drawing.  I never got in trouble for this.  In fact, teachers encouraged me to sketch while I was listening. It was the only way I could still myself and really listen to what was being said.  Instead of tuning out, I tuned in. Making pictures helped me to remember.  If I couldn’t understand a word problem, I drew out the little story in front of me, and all of a sudden the solution jumped out at me.  I drew graphs, T-charts, and clocks to better understand mathematical concepts.  Drawing helped in science too.  Making pictures of cells and plants and chemical reactions helped me to ask questions and learn more. When reading on my own, I often draw in the margins, not just underline or highlight. If something is really important to me, I draw it so I can deepen my understanding.  No one taught me to do this.  I just experimented and found my own way to represent my thinking.

The first time I heard about sketchnoting as a teaching technique was several years ago in a book called Comprehension Connection by Tanny McGregor.  It was an integral part of the reading strategy of visualization. Since then, Tanny has published other books with her sketchnotes:  Ink and Ideas, and Harvey Daniels’ The Curious Classroom.  Last month, I attended one of Tanny’s webinars offered by The Rutgers Center for Literacy Development. It came right at the right time because the following week I was planning to teach sketchnoting to our 4th grade students.  Tanny showed lots of examples of where sketchnoting can be used to help students see concepts and help teachers see what exactly their students are thinking. 

The emphasis is not of the art but rather on the ideas, and I wanted to be sure I expressed that understanding to our students.  I didn’t want the girls who do not see themselves as proficient artists to check out of the lesson.  I wanted them to feel empowered, to want to take a chance and create. To do this I focused on having students visualize an object or a scene first, and then showed them how to use shapes to convey ideas.  First, I showed them some short video clips of sketchnoting. Then, I shared a slideshow I had created introducing all the elements they would need to sketchnote: banners, arrows, call out boxes, thought bubbles, shapes, lettering, and people. As I shared each element, I asked the girls to create their own version of these elements.  It was a safe space to try things out and make mistakes.  I drew on a whiteboard to model that my drawings did not have to be perfect – they were quick sketches. Once we had all the elements in place, we were ready for our first project.

I wanted to start with something familiar and nonthreatening, something the students know very well: themselves.  As soon as I explained what I wanted them to do, they grabbed their pencils and started to sketch.  The room was completely quiet, illustrating the fact that when students are completely engaged in creating, they can concentrate and bring themselves into the flow of learning.  I was able to step back and watch: They didn’t need reassurance; they weren’t off task;  they weren’t bored; they were thinking and drawing.

After the girls finished their sketches, they added color if they wanted and then shared their work.  They not only shared the content of their drawings and ideas, but also described their design process, which was marvelous. They were doing more thinking about their thinking than I had imagined!

For the next lesson, I wanted to incorporate sketchnoting while reading.  Before my lesson, I visited the 4th grade English classes and sketchnoted in front of them, while their teacher read aloud from a class novel.  I was sure to incorporate the elements they had learned the week before. Then, I asked the girls to critique my sketchnote.  What did they notice?  What did they wonder?  What did they feel? Was there something important I missed? What else might I have included?

When it was time for our second sketchnoting lesson, I chose Jane Yolen’s book, Owl Moon to read aloud because her language is so rich and visual.  Before I read, we again went over the design elements used in sketchnoting, the girls got out their papers and pencils, and they were ready to begin.  Once I finished reading, the girls continued to draw. Some asked me to reread specific parts in the story.  The rereading helped them to add more details. It was another quiet session with total concentration.  At the end of the lesson, they each had a creation they were proud of and were eager to share. As we shared, the students began to see that even though we all listened to the same story, our sketchnotes were very different.  They also noted similarities, places in the text where the message stood out to many students.  This is such a strong way to show main idea and figurative language.  The week after this lesson, during our winter break, I received a holiday card from one student noting: “I’m practicing my sketchnoting.  I hope we do more when we return. It is so much fun!”

Well, how can I ignore that?  My next lesson will be sketchnoting using nonfiction texts both social studies and science.  I cannot wait to see their results.  I cannot wait to keep learning alongside them!

Books About Sketchnoting

Draw Your Big Idea by Nora Herting

Educated Design by Michael Cohen

How to Sketchnote: A Step-by-Step Manual for Teachers and Students by Sylvia Duckworth

Ink & Ideas by Tanny McGregor

My Pencil Made Me Do It: A Guide to Sketchnoting by Corrie Boughcum

Sketchnoting in the Classroom by Nichole Carter

The Sketchnote Handbook by Mike Rohde

Visual Note-Taking For Educators: A Teacher’s Guide to Student Creativity by Wendi Pillars

Visual Thinking by Williemien Brand

Resolution: Free the Hand

There is no must in art because art is free. – Wassily Kandinsky

The best way to describe my educational approach is – Hunter-Gatherer. I get an idea from reading, listening, or just being in the world, and something sparks my curiosity.  That little something leads to something else, and something else, and something else until I’m not quite sure how I got onto the path I’m currently going.  I love the journeys I’ve taken. I hadn’t thought of them as a learning process. I didn’t really think about them at all; I just naturally follow my thinking. When I work with children, I teach them this process to get them interested in reading. We talk about things that interest them, and I invariably will find something more they can read about the subject.  After reading about the topic, I encourage my students to write or create something from what they’ve learned.  I continue to nudge them:  What inspires you? What does that make you think or feel?  How do you want to express yourself?

This method has worked well with students over the decades.  If reading is hard or uninteresting at first, it is the ideas which must grab the child, the ideas that call for her to act and learn.  Often while reading novels with children, we will come across an idea that we want to try out.  A few years ago when I read The House with a Clock in its Walls by John Bellairs and Knee-Knock Rise by Natalie Babbitt with one of my private students, she got interested in how clocks work. We read some articles about clock mechanics and decided that we should try to make a clock.  I had no idea what I was getting into.  Maren wanted to make the clock that was described in Knee-Knock Rise.  It was a cuckoo clock made my Uncle Anson and was described like this:

“But not like any other clock you ever heard!” warned Uncle Anson, his mild face beaming with pride.  He wound it carefully and set the hands near twelve. They stood and listened as the clock began to tick toward the hours. Even Ada, with Sweetheart in her arms, came up to watch. Suddenly, there was a whirring and a click. The egg in the nest opened like a door and out came a little bird.  Jerkily it spread its wings, wings made of real red feather tipped with black.”

Maren and I read and re-read these lines carefully as we planned to make the clock.  In the story, Sweetheart the cat pounces on the clock-bird and destroys the clock smashing to bits of springs and feathers. As Maren read about the clock, she was determined to restore it by making a clock of her own.  And indeed, for about a month we worked on making the clock.  I bought a basic wooden clock kit, and Maren and I set about to create a clock with fancy numbers, a pendulum, and a nest with a bird and eggs at its base.  It does not exactly tell precise time and it cost me what I usually charge for a tutoring session, but it was money well spent, because it is something Maren still keeps next to her bed and treasures because she made it.  She read, she got an idea, she read some more, and she created something beautiful.  This is a lesson she will never forget and so she goes on reading.

My hunter-gatherer approach is my foolproof idea box.  Whenever I get worried that I may develop writer’s block, I start reading, observing, listening and I find that the ideas coming rushing towards me.  I then have to decide which one I will act upon first.  Last week, I was just scrolling through some blogs and one led to another and then to another.  I came upon the 99% Invisible website, which highlights the creative thought that goes into ordinary objects.  It celebrates the people and things that have been forgotten.  From this site I learned about the Japanese-American sculptor, Isamu Noguchi.  Specifically, I became intrigued by Noguchi’s idea of Play Mountain, an abstractionist playground for children. Noguchi expressed his relationship with sculpting this way:

 To search the final reality of stone beyond the accident of time, I seek the love of matter. The materiality of stone, its essence, to reveal its identity—not what might be imposed but something closer to its being. Beneath the skin is the brilliance of matter.

These words led me to further journeys viewing images and videos of The Noguchi Museum in Queens, the Moerenuma Park in Sapporo, Japan, and his California Scenario in Costa Mesa, California. The parks are beautifully simple sculpture gardens and playgrounds allowing visitors to use the structures in imaginative ways.  I had never heard of Noguchi before this, and I wondered how someone so accomplished, so in tune with the way I see art and play, could have escaped my attention.

This excursion of Noguchi’s life and work made me think about how I express myself artistically.   Lately, I have been sketching and I’ve faced some obstacles since what is in my mind hasn’t translated to what I put down on paper.  I’m quickly frustrated with my level of skill and then get mad at myself for not letting myself just create and not worry about the product. Over the years when creating, I love building with scraps of cardboard, handmade paper, twine, beads, wire, and buttons. I let the objects form the art work. I come out of my head and into my hands. 

Clockwork (banana parchment, handmade paper, string, and cardboard)

I started to search for something to read that would help me build on this idea, and I came across Cathy Weisman Topal.  Cathy is an art instructor at Smith College who created a teaching approach called Thinking with a Line. Using simple straight and curved cardboard pieces, Cathy designed art lessons to help children explore the elements of design and structure.  Using these basic printmaking objects, children are able to create and express what they feel and see in their minds’ eye.  Cathy has written many books about teaching art to children and has gathered inspiration from Friedrich Froebel and Rudolf Arnheim, as well as the Reggio Emilia teaching approach.  Her books, Beautiful Stuff and Beautiful Stuff from Nature show children ways to use found objects to create art.

As I started to play with line printing, I thought about how I have always loved to doodle, not intentionally making a shape or object, but just allowing my hand to wander across the page.  Then I asked myself:  What if every day I wrote a meditation and then let my pen travel across paper? I decided to make a resolution this year to keep a journal of line meditations.  I start with writing some thoughts down usually reflecting on my relationship with nature.  Then I use a gel pen to loop its way over the paper without thinking. I have even closed my eyes while drawing because it helps me not to be representational.  I also have drawn to classical music which helps flow and production.  I don’t lift my pen; it is one continuous swirling line. At times, I pause and draw in the air extending my arm moving with the music something similar to what I do when teaching small children handwriting.  We call it skywriting, and I’m think I’d like to try it again using a large sheet of paper with charcoals.

I wanted to see what would happen when I did lift my pen to make a series of lines, and I was pleased with those results too.  They reminded me of the marks I would make as a young child before I knew about how to form letters and words. I used to sit for hours at the kitchen table and write, giving my mother note after note and composing fantastic stories, which would change after each retelling. I think that in doing these daily meditations, I will get closer to that childhood wonder and openness. I hope that over the next year, these line meditations will help me focus on the process of art making and not get preoccupied on artistic merit.  My goal is expression and play because it’s only through play that we can fully learn.

Further Reading:

For Children:

A Line is a Dot that Went for a Walk: An Inspirational Drawing Book by Sterling Children’s

Art and Max by David Weisner

The Dot by Peter Reynolds

Dog Loves Drawing by Louise Yates

Going for a Walk with a Line: A Step into the World of Modern Art by Douglas and Elizabeth MacAgy

Harold and the Purple Crayon by Crockett Johnson

Ish by Peter Reynolds

Lines that Wiggle by Candace Whitman

The East-west House: Noguchi’s Childhood in Japan by Christy Hale

The Squiggle by Carole Lexa Schaefer

What if… by Samantha Berger

When I Draw a Panda by Amy June Bates

For Adults:

Beautiful Stuff! Learning with Found Materials by Cathy Weisman Topal

Beautiful Stuff from Nature: More Learning with Found Materials by Cathy Weisman Topal

Children and Painting by Cathy Weisman Topal

Children, Clay and Sculpture by Cathy Weisman Topal

Concerning the Spiritual in Art by Wassily Kandinsky

Listening to Stone: The Art and Life of Isamu Noguchi by Hayden Herrera

Point and Line to Plane by Wassily Kandinsky

Thinking with a Line Teacher’s Guide by Cathy Weisman Topal

Thinking with a Pencil by Henning Nelms

Poems in a Small Space

Acceptance.  I think that is the gift that I give myself when there are a multitude of things that are out of my control on both a personal and global level.  My small hands, my curious mind cannot solve any of it.  I can accept and move forward.  I can accept and be content that I am whole; I am safe in my own small space.

Poetry has always given me that small space to crawl into – to journey down into a deep, welcoming hole and find myself in an open field at the other end, a field of possibility. It is a place to try out new combinations of words to express what is in my inside because my inside is the only thing I can control.  How will I approach this situation?  How will to react to that setback?  What can I do to right myself again?

Words help me know what I’m feeling.  Words record where I have been, who I was at that moment of time.  They are a snapshot of myself.  They help me reflect and grow.  They allow me to navigate the world and keep me on a steady course.

Every morning I remind myself why I am here.  Mary Oliver’s wise words whisper in my ear: Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?  I am here to write.

 Winter’s Coming
  
 Softly lace crystals dance
 On the chill wind whispering
 Winter’s coming
 Three deer play hide and seek
 With the trees– leaping
 Winter’s coming
 Rabbit in her brown-fur burrow
 Safe and warm dreaming 
 Winter’s coming
 Alder trees arch with the weight
 Of new fallen snow creaking
 Winter’s coming
 Squirrels frolic in the snow
 Fluff their silver tails chattering
 Winter’s coming
 A flock of Canada geese glide
 Across the frigid sky honking
 Winter’s coming
 Meanwhile beneath the deep white
 The steadfast garden lies silent
 Till spring – Hush now
 Winter’s coming 

 
 
 
 Swamp Oak in Winter
  
  
 Silver-white swamp oak
 Stands alone in the clearing
 Branching up and up
  
 Gracefully curving
 While each slender stem embraces
 Curled copper leaves
  
 Like snow-capped cocoons
 Silently contemplating
 Silver-white swamp oak 


 
 
 Hibernation
  
                                      I                                  
  
 Following the path
 Through the woods
 Walking in other’s footprints
 In the shallow snow,
 I feel the tug from the earth,
 A call from the bare branches
 To come rest in the soft snow,
 Sleep till spring.
  
                                       II                                
  
 The woods are silent,
 The sun is iced-over,
 Each branch, each leaf
 Is frozen in space and time,
 A lone woodpecker lands
 Rendering a hollow sound.
  
                                  III                               
  
 The elm stands bare-boned,
 I rest my cool cheek
 Against its smooth trunk,
 Take comfort from its
 Immense strength,
 Sturdy persistence,
 Acknowledging the life within. 

If you are not yet a writer of poetry, I urge you to try.  Observe what’s around you, calm your mind, and narrow your focus. Settle down and relax. You can start small.  If I haven’t convinced you to write, then read poetry.  Fill your mind with its music. Fill your heart with its knowledge. Begin.

Poetry for Adults

  • Aimless Love by Billy Collins
  • A Thousand Morning by Mary Oliver
  • Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude by Ross Gay
  • Devotions by Mary Oliver
  • Nine Horses by Billy Collins
  • Selected Poems by E.E. Cummings
  • Twenty Love Poems by Pablo Neruda
  • The Princess Saves Herself in This One by Amanda Lovelace
  • The Undressing: Poems by Li-Young Lee
  • The Wild Iris by Louise Gluck

Poetry for Children

  • All the Small Poems and Fourteen More by Valerie Worth
  • A Pocketful of Poems by Nikki Grimes
  • Beautiful Blackbird by Ashley Bryan
  • Bookjoy, Wordjoy by Pat Mora
  • Creature of Earth, Sea, And Sky by Georgia Heard
  • Everything Comes Next by Naomi Shihab Nye
  • I am Loved by Nikki Giovanni
  • Let it Shine by Ashley Bryan
  • One Last Word by Nikki Grimes
  • Twist: Yoga Poems by Janet Wong

Books as Breadcrumbs

Last April, I began writing this blog consistently every week upon the invitation of Ruth Ayers.  It was April 10th to be exact – my 64th birthday, and Ruth invited me to join her  SOS – Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog  group, because I had replied kindly to one of her blog posts. This is my 37th blog post since then, and I’ve been thinking about connections.  Specifically, how do people connect us to ideas and how do those ideas make us grow – give us hope and courage? On my blogging journey, I discovered many fellow-bloggers with many amazing, funny, and heart-wrenching stories. I’m indebted to all of them because their experiences help me take on new perspectives and make me see the world in ways I had not yet imagined. One such blogger is Julie K. Cox who writes about family, teaching, writing, and most of all reading. I have found that whatever books Julie recommends, I immediately seek them out. 

On Julie’s recommendation, I have read Emily P Freeman‘s A Million Little Things and am currently halfway through her book, The Next Right Thing.  I find her voice both calming and enticing. She beckons her readers to take action gently.  And though she is much younger than me with a totally different lifestyle, I find myself following and considering and feeling like I’m following the right path. Emily talks about the time when she and her husband were in the midst of trying to figure out the next right vocational step.  She talked about how instead of following answers, they began to follow arrows – signs that would lead them to the right decision.  I smiled to myself when I read that. I thought, That’s what I have been doing with my students these past forty-two years!” Only instead of arrows, I’ve laid down some breadcrumbs in the form of books, which they follow until they set down their own breadcrumb trail of books that lead them to new adventures and interests.

Much of my teacher life has been working with struggling readers and writers.  They would choose to do anything else in the world rather than sitting down to read or write.  They would even consider cleaning their rooms or doing the dishes!  But just as Lorraine Skovron, my 5th grade teacher, set me on a path as a lifelong reader with her first breadcrumb, Misty of Chincoteague, I knew I could find the right book to set my students onto their own reading paths.  I knew if I listened very closely and got to know my students as people with unique interests and desires, that I could find books that would connect them to their experiences and to new ideas. 

A number of years ago, I worked with a little girl who was Dyslexic. Reading came hard to her, but she was tenacious and resilient.  I admired her spunk and courage and kept feeding her books.  One day while she was working hard to decipher a text, she slammed the book shut and declared, “I hate reading!”  I took her hands into mine and said, “Oh no, you don’t hate reading!  Reading is hard, but the stories are worth it. You LOVE stories.”  She smiled and nodded, “Yes, I do love stories. Can you read to me?”  And that’s what I did for the rest of the session. I read to her and filled her mind with questions and wonder, helping her restore her energy for reading.  I will never forget that day.  I learned how to help struggling readers balance the focus needed to read the words with the joy those words presented in the form of story.  The story was the key, the story was the breadcrumb or arrow that would lead to a rich life of unbridled ideas.

This year, I work with both struggling and gifted readers and writers.  The arc of my work keeps me on my toes and makes me reflect on what moves I make to push my students forward.  What arrows or breadcrumbs am I laying down?  The first thing I do when working with students is to listen to them and give them space for them to tell me who they are. As Parker J. Palmer says, “Teaching is a daily exercise in vulnerability.”  Sharing my struggles and successes with students help them to open up and share what is easy and difficult for them.  Then together we plan next steps to reach our goals.  This is true for students who have learning differences and students who find academics easy and are searching for more and more challenges. 

Last week, one of my gifted 5th grade students who is reading at the 8th grade level reached a plateau in writing.  She had written a twenty-seven-page mystery and was spent.  Usually, she has a wealth of ideas from which to draw, but for the past few weeks, she didn’t want to write.  She said she was empty.  I let it be because as her tutor and not teacher, I could give her that luxury for a bit.  However, I felt the time had come to nudge her, but nudge gently.  So I asked myself, how exactly I should do that. And as often happens the answer came in the form of poetry.  I asked Maren if she’d like to write a sensory poem about winter.  She eagerly agreed, and I breathed a sigh of relief. After some discussion and revision, Maren wrote this final poem.

Winter Joy

 The snow falls hard outside my window.
 The ice makes the roads slick and cold.
 Neighbors grab their sleds and laugh 
 As they tumble down the hillside.
  
 A large SUV slips down the road, 
 Its roof piled high with skis. 
 An eager little face peeks out from behind the window, 
 A baby doll clutched in her small hands
  
 A toddler, too excited to wait until spring,
 Toddle-bikes down his driveway. 
 His mittens, attached to his coat by yarn,
 Sail behind him like tiny woolen kites.
  
 A woman in a thick coat 
 Passes out warm hot chocolate
 To shivering little faces
 That light up with joy. 

Then I thought, let’s take this poem of which she was so proud and turn it into a story. I asked Maren to choose one stanza that stood out for her the most.  She chose the last stanza. From this stanza, she started a new short story project. This is how she began:

A woman in a thick coat passes out warm hot chocolate to shivering little faces that light up with joy. Sitting down on sleds, they laugh and joke with one another as they drink. A teenager with dark brown hair poking out from under his patterned hat throws a snowball into the trees. The wind whips through the trees, as if calling the children. They put their cups onto the porch banister and zoom down the hill. Faster, faster, faster, until they fly through the air and land in one big pile, laughing and shaking snow out of their boots. 

A small boy in an old camouflage patterned jacket watches from the top of a tree a few meters away, his sandy hair tousled, a content little smile on his face. His own sled, duct-taped and patched in more places than the sled actually shows, lay at the bottom of the tree. Unable to resist, he ignored his mother’s constant reminders to stay away from the other kids and found himself swinging off the branch. He took the frayed rope in his hand and ran up the hill. His small voice was hardly heard among the loud children, but he was accepted into the tight-knit group without any problems. Up and down they go, flying faster every time as they developed new paths and balanced different ways on the sleds. 

I am so eager to see how this story will unfold.  What choices will Maren make?  How do the books she’s reading influence her writing style?

This week, I worked with a gifted 1st grade girl who reads at the 3rd grade level.  We have read two books in the Paddington series:  A Bear Called Paddington and Paddington Abroad.  She loves them!  It is hard to find books for a gifted 1st grade reader which will support both her intellectual and emotional growth.  A Peruvian bear dressed in a funny hat who gets into all kinds of trouble was just the ticket.  After reading the books, I asked Lily to write a sequel.  She chose to write Paddington in China because she knew a lot about living in China.  She dictated the story to me as I typed.  It has two chapters so far and is fifteen slides long.  Her choice of vocabulary was amazing and her style of writing shows just how much attention she gives to author’s craft. Lily is a deep thinker.  I asked her to write a bit on her own when we were not meeting together.  When I looked at her work I found this portion:

“I don’t know,” said Mr. Brown.  “The only way to know is to ask the pilot.”

Judy and Mrs. Bird ran up to the pilot and asked when their conversation came to a stop, “Paddington, why did you run over here to talk to the pilot?

The pilot and Paddington exchanged mysterious glance. “Nothing,” the pilot said,” We were just talking about when the plane was going to take off. It has been delayed a little because the engine broke!”

What the pilot said was true, but it was not all.  What they were really talking about was the best places to go in China because what Paddington really wanted to see was a Chinese person speaking Shanghainese.

“Fine.” Mrs. Bird answered.   In her mind though, her suspicions were raised; almost nothing at all did her eagle eyes miss, and she had seen the glance that was passed between them.  She still didn’t want to offend Paddington so she didn’t say anything.  Almost everyone was depending on her eagle eyes except Paddington so without her saying anything the matter was soon forgotten, at least for the time.  The pilot hurried over to the plane engine and checked it several times before rushing back to the Browns and declaring, “THE ENGINES ARE FULL OF MARMALADE!”

I am getting used to her incredible use of language and her agility with dialogue.  What surprised me was her use of a semi-colon. I asked Lily who taught her how to use a semi-colon.  She said, “I read a lot and I noticed authors using that mark when they had two sentences and wanted to put them together.  It can be used instead of and.”  I chuckled.  I told her that she was indeed correct.  Then she asked me what the mark was called again. I told her it was a semi-colon.  I am in awe of not only how much Lily can retain, but of how much she can figure out all by herself.  When I was in 1st grade I was still trying to decode the mysteries of the alphabet!

Yesterday, we had ten inches of snow, and we got a much hoped for Snow Day.  Bright and early, I received an email from Lily asking me for another book series recommendation. Here is a natural reader.  She is a reader for life. On her snow day, she is asking for books!  In fact, when I asked her what she thought she was going to be when she grew up, she told me that she did not have to be one thing.  She intends to be a doctor, an artist, and a writer.  I have no doubt that Lily will achieve these goals.  I also wish for her days of playing in the snow and the sun. I hope I can lay down some brilliant breadcrumbs to make her journey sweet.