SLICE OF LIFE

I'm playing around with my blog.

What, if anything, do I want it to become?

For the next couple of weeks, I hope,

I'm going to experiment with some different things.

Today's challenge is Slice of Life.

I did that last year, but only in March,

when you "slice" away every day.

Some people have continued every Tuesday.

But not me.

Today I am starting again.

My word for 2012 is "Savor."

I want to savor every minute

especially with my guys

who will be gone way, way, way too soon.

On Sunday

I started.

Sunday we went to the Broncos game.

I'm a long time Bronco fan

but I have only actually been to three games

because tickets are super expensive.

And I am a single mom

trying to feed and clothe two ginormous

teenage boys.

But this week we actually got to go.

Brian Dawkins, one of the Bronco players,

gives an award every week

to a high school player who has overcome adversity.

My boys won the award

And so we got to go to the game.

Actually, not only did we get to go to the game,

we got preseason passes

to go down on the field

and watch the pre game warm up

right there

where we could see the players' fancy cleats

and head phones

and watch them stretch out

and then we had amazing seats,

eight rows from the field,

on the twenty yard line,

right by where the players came out onto the field

and in close proximity

(to my boys' delight)

to the Bronco cheerleaders

and then afterwards,

we got to go into the family waiting area

and meet Brian Dawkins

and the boys got to talk to him for almost half an hour.

Now my life with teenagers

is always a little lumpy and bumpy.

The game was on Sunday, January 1st,

And Saturday night was New Year's Eve.

And of course the boys had to go out with their friends.

And of course they didn't sleep much. If at all.

So they were a teeny bit grumpy.

And it was pretty cold.

Although not nearly as cold as it could have been.

And of course even though I said dress in layers

and even made several suggestions

as to what the layers might include

no one wanted to dress in layers

or help carry the blankets

I lugged all over the stadium.

Note: One child did actually use a blanket

after I had watched goosebumps form on his neck

for an entire half.

And of course there was one Kansas City fan

sitting right in front of us

who had altered his #15 jersey

so it said T-Blow

and he had evidently had partaken of some adult beverages

and spent the entire first half

arguing with another young gentleman

sitting directly behind us

who had also evidently partaken of adult beverages

and the guest relations guy

had to come several times

and tell them to stop

arguing with each other.

And of course the boys

didn't want anyone to know

they were with

the short chubby lady

lugging the blankets

and at one point

after the game

but before we met Brian Dawkins

I completely lost them

In a sea of 75,068 people

and had to resort to text messages

to track them down

so I could give them their passes

and we could go down on the field

to meet Brian.

And of course one son got mad at me

because I laughed

because a really cute little g

four year old fashionista

wearing a white fur coat

and a mini skirt

and leggings

and black boots

was totally smitten with my son

and followed him around the player waiting area

standing directly in front of him

and craning her neck

to gaze adoringly into his eyes

for about ten minutes.

And of course after

we had an amazing conversation with Brian Dawkins

and he said

"Do you take good care of your mom?'

The boys left me

to walk the half mile back to the car

by myself

in a pretty questionable part of town

in the dark

because they were cold

and wanted to jog

and I couldn't go as fast as them

partly because they are in much better shape

but also because I was still lugging the blankets.

But I ignored all of the above.

And just concentrated

on savoring.

Because my boys

are

wonderful

and amazing

and they are going to be gone soon

and I will miss them.

WELCOME 2012

Welcome to 2012!

Today marks the beginning of my fifth year as a blogger. When I started Carol W's Corner, I did it because I believe that as teachers should always be learning new things. At the beginning, the learning curve was pretty steep. I learned how to post book covers and photographs (the latter only kind of), I became a CYBILS judge, and I got involved with Poetry Friday. I made some great new friends, people like Mary Lee and Franki, and became better friends with close-to-home folks, like Patrick Allen. Most recently, I have learned to Tweet and become acquainted with a whole new community of amazing readers and teachers.

I'm trying to decide, however, what I want to do with my blog. It feels pretty routine and old hat, and I don't feel like I'm pushing myself or learning anything new. Most of the books that I read and review are books that I have discovered are books I have heard about through other blogs, and I'm pretty sure that the people who read my blog also read those other blogs. I have thought about revamping-- doing book reviews a couple of times a week, maybe doing Slice of Life with two Writing teachers, doing some kind of a response to a professional book, or classroom vignette. I also wonder about taking a day to incorporate more of spiritual life, and spiritual journey, which would probably offend some people, but oh well. I'm just not sure, given the demands of full time teaching and full time parenting, how much I can manage.

I am also trying to decide who I want to be be as a reader in 2012. I know that some folks in my world of Kidlitosphere are going to read all of the Newbery winners over the next two years. I know there is a whole other group of people reading all the Caldecotts. Last year, I read with Paul Hankins and the Reading Centurions Group over on Facebook. I will probably do that this year, but if I am going to do it, I need to be better about tracking my books. I started using Goodreads last year, and I like it, but I'm not really faithful about using it-- last year I noted 135 books, but I'm sure I read closer to 300, if I include picture books.

I also know I need to do more with technology. Last year, I started a new blog. My goal was to post a picture every day. I did it for about three days, then stopped. And I really want to get better at that; I think I'm probably the only person in America who really does not quite have the hang of how to move pictures from the digital camera to the computer. Maybe this year… And I want to get much, much better at using my iPad, especially in my classroom. And maybe even learn how to play Words with Friends…

So I am entering 2012 with a lot of unknowns. I do know is that I want to slow down and savor this new year. A lot will be changing. My school is closing, and I will need to find a new job. I don't know whether that will be classroom, or interventionist, or administration or something completely and totally different. Son #1 will be graduating (at least I hope he will!) and I am waiting and praying to see what doors will open for him. Son #2 only has one more year. And the boys' sister is a junior in college, and at some point will move out of the teeny tiny bedroom in our basement and head out into the big wide world…

Fitting with that theme of slowing down, my first read this year is a professional book, THE ART OF SLOW READING, by Thomas Newkirk. I'm only a couple of chapters in, but so far it's brilliant. Tom doesn't advocate that a reader should read everything slowly,

(Slow reading) has to do with the relationship we have with what we read, with the quality of attention we bring to our reading, with the investment we are willing to make. It is based on the belief that good writing is never consumed, never fully understood, and that though we often read for the efficient extraction of information, this extraction is not the most meaningful or pleasurable reading we do. Slow reading repays even repeated readings and speaks to us in new ways with each engagement..." (p. 2)

There is usually an ebb and flow to slow reading, times when we are immersed in the narrative flow, and times when we pause to reflect or reread or just savor the moment…Although I am convinced that slow reading is essential for real comprehension, it is also clearly crucial to the deep pleasure we take in reading and the power of reading to change us. As John Miedma eloquently puts it: "By opening yourself to a book in this way, you invite ideas and feelings that enrich and expand your interiority. Reading is the making of a deeper self." (3)

I'm only a couple of chapters into this book, because I am reading the book slowly and savoring Tom's brilliant thinking. I know, however, from a quick skim, that later chapters are going to talk about six different ways, e.g. marking text, memorizing, reading like a writer-- to help readers learn to read slowly and deeply, and be changed by texts. Seems like some really good stuff, and I know I'll learn a lot.

Here's to a terrific 2012.

May you savor each moment richly!

POETRY FRIDAY- A FEW FOUND POEMS

This week, I am unpacking a few of the boxes of books, that have been in the corner of my bedroom for about three months. Unfortunately, unpacking books, for me, often involves more reading than unpacking, and that is pretty much what has happened this time. Ran across Anne LaMott's PLAN B: FURTHER THOUGHTS ON FAITH, which I loved the first time. LaMott's brand of Christianity is about as shiny, and pious, and squeaky clean as mine, which is to say it's none of those things, at all. Anyway, I decided to make found poems…

"Through this Craziness"

"How are we

going to get through

this craziness?"

I asked Father Tom.

There was

silence.

For a moment.

Left foot,

right foot,

left foot,

breathe.

I don't know

who can lead us away

from the craziness

and barbarity.

But I know

that in the desert

you stay out

of the blistering sun.

You go out

during the early morning

and in the cool

of the evening.

You seek

oasis

shade

safety

refreshment.

In the desert

you stay out

of the blistering sun.

************

"Saying Goodbye"

After the loss of her dog, Sadie:

It still hurts

sometimes,

to have lost Sadie.

She was like

the floating garlands

sculptor Andy Goldsworthy

made in the documentary

Rivers and Tides:

yellow and red and green leaves,

connected to one another with thorns,

floating away

in the current

swirling

drifting back

toward the shore

getting cornered

in eddies,

drifting free again.

All along

you know

that they will disperse

once they are out

of your vision,

but they will never be gone entirely

because you saw them.

****************

"Bulbs"

Planting bulbs

always sounds

like a romantic and fun thing to do

but it never is.

The earth is rocky

and full of roots,

it's clay.

It seems doomed

and polluted

yet you dig little holes

for ugly

shrivelled bulbs,

throw in a handful of poppy seeds,

and cover everything over,

and you know

you'll never see them again--

it's death

and clay

and shrivel.

Your hands

are nicked

from the rocks

your nails

are black

with the soil.

December and January

are so grim…

Yet in spring

daffodils

and poppies

are waiting

in the wings.

POETRY FRIDAY is at Julie Larios' THE DRIFT RECORD.

BIGGER THAN A BREAD BOX by Laurel Snyder

Times are hard. And because they are hard for adults, they are also hard for kids. Now, more than I ever, I need to be able to hand kids books that say, "You are not alone." I have found a new one this week.

Twelve-year-old Rebecca, in Laurel Snyder's BIGGER THAN A BREADBOX, will be a friend, I am sure, for many of my students. Her mom and dad are having a hard time, and finally, one day after school, her mom puts Rebecca and her three-year-old brother, Lew, in the car and leaves Baltimore, headed for her mother's house in Atlanta.

Rebecca, who has always been called Rebecca, misses her dad horribly. And she is a new kid, missing her niche and friends in her old school, trying to be the "Becky" that the popular kids at her new school want her to be. And her mom, drowning in adult issues, is not really there to help.

Rebecca/Becky's life is further complicated by a magical bread box that she finds in the attic at her grandmother's house. She can wish for anything she wants- an iPod, her favorite Baltimore treats, cash, cute clothes-- and as long as it is small enough to fit into a bread box, her wish will be granted. Rebecca uses the bread box a lot, until she discovers the source of all of its riches…

BIGGER THAN A BREAD BOX is one of those books that screams to be shared with kids. It's about family, and fitting in, and growing up, and right and wrong. But mostly, it's just about saying to kids, "You are not alone."

And I know a lot of kids that need to hear that message…

P.S. Karen, over at Literate Lives review Bread Box here, then has a recap of a skyping session between her class and Laurel Snyder here.

THE FRIENDSHIP DOLL by Kirby Larson

Our Christmas vacation has been relatively quiet. I've read and reread and reread the CYBILS poetry nominees, and finally picked my five. We went to Colorado Springs and spent Christmas day with my family. I've spent time with my book club buddies and seen a couple of movies. I've done a little cleaning… What I haven't done, at least as much as I usually do, is read, at least not in the voluminous way I usually do during vacations.

Yesterday, I did pick up THE FRIENDSHIP DOLL, a historical fiction novel by Kirby Larson. THE FRIENDSHIP DOLL follows Miss Tanagawa, one of 58 "ambassador dolls" sent to the United States by Japanese schoolchildren (this actually happened), in 1927. The historical fiction/fantasy line is blurred occasionally, as Miss Tanagawa interjects her voice into the lives of five different characters in five short, novella-like episodes. The first four episodes are set against the backdrop of the Great Depression era, and there is a lot of history embedded.

When Miss Tanagawa arrives in New York, she is greeted by a group of children, including Bunny, a wealthy, high society child, who is disappointed that a Roosevelt heir has been chosen over her to give the speech welcoming the dolls to the United States. Next, Miss Tanagawa travels to Chicago, where we meet Lois, a child who has dreams of flying like Amelia Earhart. After that, Miss Tanagawa is sold at an auction and ends up in the closet of a crochety old lady, whose heart is finally awakened by Willie Mae, a poor young girl whose father has been killed in a coal mining accident in the Appalachian mountains. From there, Miss Tanagawa travels to a museum in Oregon, where she encounters Lucille, who is traveling cross country with her widowed father, following the crops during the Great Depression. Miss Tanagawa plays the role of conscience or comforter.

I really enjoyed how Kirby Larson structured this novel to capture the lives of several characters during the era from 1927-1941. I was fascinated by how she used Miss Tanagawa as the common thread tying the stories together. I can't wait to share this book with some of my girls next week…

SELF-PORTRAIT WITH SEVEN FINGERS by J. Patrick Lewis and Jane Yolen

A look at the cover of this book pretty much captures it's essence.

1. SELF-PORTRAIT is a biography of artist Marc Chagall.

3. SELF-PORTRAIT is written in verse, but each page also contains a block of text detailing biographical information from that period of Chagall's life.

4. SELF-PORTRAIT is written by J. Patrick Lewis and Jane Yolen, two of the foremost authors in children's literature/poetry.

2. SELF-PORTRAIT is illustrated with Chagall's paintings, as well as an occasional photograph.

Need I say more? Probably not, but I will, a little anyway. SELF-PORTRAIT IN SEVEN FINGERS is one of those books where poetry, nonfiction, art, and photography are pretty much perfectly melded. Lewis and Yolen have taken a series of Chagall's paintings, and crafted 14 poems, each about a different period in the artist's life. Each two page spread includes the painting, a poem, and a block of text with biographical information about that chunk of Chagall's life. Many of the pages also include a glossary type definition of an unfamiliar Yiddish word. The finished product is rich and multi-textured and really fascinating. And yes, it would be perfect for an art class for any age student, from very young (ok, you would probably have to paraphrase a little with very young kids, but I really think they could get it). I'm also considering using it as the main mentor text for a multi-genre biography project with my fourth graders.

On a completely different note, and maybe just because I'm really nosy, I'm fascinated by the collaboration between J. Patrick Lewis and Jane Yolen. I would love to know how this project came about. What inspired the topic? Format? How did they decide on who what would write what? What was the actual process of writing the book like? Did they email back and forth every day? Or…??????? And I wonder if they have any more collaborations planned…

POETRY FRIDAY

I'm a first round judge for the CYBILS poetry category. For the past six weeks, I've been reading and rereading about thirty poetry books that have been published in the last year. One of those books is REQUIEM: POEMS OF THE TEREZIN GHETTO by Paul Janezcko. In an afterword, Janezcko gives readers background about Terezin, a concentration camp, located on the banks of the Ohre River.

(Terezin) became home for the Jewish intellectuals and artists of Prague. As a result, it became a prison in which the arts were tolerated, then encouraged, as a Nazi propaganda tool. Classical music and opera were commonplace, despite the horrors and cruelty of captivity. Lectures were delivered in attics and basements of the barracks. Most of these activities were allowed by the Nazis, who saw these artistic events as proof that they were treating the Jews humanely and allowing their culture to flourish. The reality of the situation was, of course, quite the opposite. Musicians who performed beautifully one night were packed into cattle cars the next, transported to the gas chambers.

Each of the 35 poems in the book is told by different fictional character, either a prisoner or German guard. The poems, sparse and haunting, illustrated by actual pencil sketches and watercolors from inmates, help me to remember and care. They would be perfect for a middle or high school social studies unit on the Holocaust.

"Wilfred Becker/34507"

When Otto's number was called,

Eva wept.

She would go with him.

Insisted.

They would have one more night

together.

She traded half a loaf of bread

for two hours

in a kumbal with a curtain.

Otto asked if I would play

my violin.

"I would be honored, my friend."

"Can you play Johann Strauss?"

I smiled. "I am German, am I not?"

So it was on that frigid night

I played waltzes for them.

"The Blue Danube"

"Where the Lemons Bloom"

"Youthful Dreams"

All played softly

notes like stars.

When they pulled back the curtain

and nodded to me,

I bowed

and played a final waltz.

- Paul Janezcko

Poetry Friday is at Dori Reads