NaPiBoWriWee 2011

Just a quick post to let you know that NaPiBoWriWee 2011 is going on right now! What? You don't know what NaPiBoWriWee is? National Picture Book Writing Week is the brain child of children's book writer, screen writer and musician Paula Yoo who packs more into her schedule than I care to think about. With all of these activities swirling about, she found it was hard to take the time to sit down to write those picture book ideas that were swirling in her head. So she set a goal, gave it a name and invited others to join her. The goal is to write a picture book a day for seven days. If you take the challenge you and finish you will have seven picture book drafts when you are done. Some people have more than that. 


Paula is a great cheerleader. She provides guest bloggers, writing tips, inspirational posts and community through this challenge. Oh, and there are prizes. For those who do finish the challenge, there are a number of books signed by authors or illustrators ready to be distributed. While the real fun is the challenge itself and the community, the prizes are an added bonus. 


I met many of my writing buddies through this challenge last year. We have crossed paths many times during other writing challenges. So this week feels like homecoming week to me. These friends, and you know who you are, have added so much to my life this past year - encouragement, knowledge, information, humor and motivation. We've participated in some of the same challenges, we've visited each other's blogs, we follow each other on twitter. This is one of the many beauties of the internet. So Paula, thanks for starting it all!

This article is also posted at my blog Picture Book Inspirations

Heart of a Poet

 National Poetry Month has been a delightful surprise. The children have inspired me more than ever. We have talked about the “heart of a poet.” They fall in love with that concept. They also fall in love with the idea that words can be beautiful, can show emotion and that choosing the right word is the work of a “word artist.” These are entirely new thoughts to most of them and they grab onto them tenaciously. I am seeing poetry in the words we speak, write and carelessly bandy about. And they do too.

After rewriting Robert Louis Stevenson’s “The Swing” with quite a few classes it became clear that there are many more ways to solve a poetic challenge than I thought possible. While many of the ideas/words/images the children came up with were the same, there were also many unique visions from each class. After brainstorming, each class chose a different focus to finishing their poem. I hadn’t expected this. I mean the view from the swing is simply the view from the swing, isn’t it? Absolutely not. How could I have been so naïve?

In most classes, I needed to really shepherd them the process. One class, however, took charge early. They delighted in beating out the rhythm, and finding words to fill the beats. They refused to be limited by our brainstorming. In the end the children grabbed scrap paper from my desk and feverishly jotted down their suggestions for amending our poem. I have a stack of entries and multiple submissions from most of the class. It is important to note that the scrap paper part of the lesson was entirely their creation.

Meanwhile, a class that had not yet done their three minute rhyme showed me something which tore at my heart. One child could think of just one word and started to weep. It’s not that this child is not used to challenges or cries when he doesn’t win. It was just that he was so inspired by the poetry. He was afraid that if he could not rhyme he could not be a poet. A wonderful thing happened. His classmates circled him, hugged him and affirmed him. They said things wise beyond their years and said them, dare I say it, poetically. His tears dried and he bravely joined us to find out how others did.

I gave my regular spiel, which starts by asking children to raise their hands if they have one or more rhyming word on their paper. Almost all children do. I congratulate them for being one step on the road to being a poet and compliment them on their poetic hearts. I then tell them that the children who were unable to rhyme may be the next stars in the world of non-rhyming poetry. This class actually cheered, jumped out of their seats and clutched their poetic hearts. They were so happy to be told that they already were something. Guess who smiled the broadest? You could not have stopped them from rhyming the rest of the class period. Nor could you have stopped them for looking for beautiful combinations of words.

What did I learn from this? Children love to be told that they are something. Aside from loving to get good grades or get praise, developing an identity is inspiring to them. Writing a sentence may be looked at as a chore. Being a poet seems like an honor. Writing is what poets do. Writing becomes a way of validating who they are. The assignment may be the same – write two sentences that rhyme. But the result is different. Way different. Even if the sentences are identical. When you inspire a vision, an identity and a passion, you inspire so much more.

I no longer think of myself as merely a teacher but more of a ringleader, mentor, inspirational coach. Yes I am a teacher, but I want to be even more. I hope I can do it poetically. 

Writing Poetry with Robert Louis Stevenson

It’s National Poetry Month and I’m all agog at the different ways to share poetry. You all know by now that I went wild in January writing a poem every day for Kat Apel’s Month of Poetry. It was such a good time I didn’t sign up for a poetry challenge this month. Instead I’m challenging myself to think of new ways to share the poetry of other people.

Last week I challenged students to a rhyming contest. I gave each student a piece of scrap paper, gave a word to rhyme with and set my timer for three minutes. They wrote down as many rhyming words as they could in the time given. The person with the most rhyming words was given the accolade “King or Queen (insert name here) of the Land of Rhyme” written on a paper crown. You could not imagine how they set themselves to the task. The winner was often a dark horse candidate. Naturally, we read some rhyming poetry afterward.

This week I am working with classes on rewriting a poem by Robert Louis Stevenson to reflect the realities of the scenery from our playground swing set. I shared the poem with students and asked them about the content. Not a single child knew what “cattle” are.

We talked about the beauty of the scene, but how it doesn’t reflect our experience. We then made a list of what we can see from the swing set of our small city school. Though not an inner city, we certainly cannot see a single farm animal from our environs.

We then carefully cut out the sections which didn’t reflect our reality. I had the children clap out the beat of the original poem so that we could replicate it’s cadence. We then adapted parts and added in the vocabulary we had listed on the board. The finished product is a wonderful mix of Stevenson and Students.

The Original Poem

The Swing

By Robert Louis Stevenson

How do you like to go up in a swing,

Up in the air so blue?

Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing

Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,

Till I can see so wide,

Rivers and trees and cattle and all

Over the countryside –

Till I look down on the garden green

Down on the roof so brown –

Up in the air I go flying again,

Up in the air and down!

The Swing

Robert Louis Stevenson & Kindergarten Class

How do you like to go up in a swing,

Up in the air so blue?

Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing

Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,

Till I can see so far,

Buildings and toys and sticks and sand

I feel I can jump on the car.

Till I look down on the school building

Down on the roof so brown –

Up in the air I go flying again,

Up in the air and down!

(their  vocab list - cars, trees, sky, a person, grass, a fence, a bird, a building, the school, sand, a leaf, toys, sticks)

The Swing

By Robert Louis Stevenson and First Grade Class

How do you like to go up in a swing,

Up in the air so blue?

Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing

Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the fence,

Till I can see so far,

Children and playhouse and sand and slides

Everything till the cars.

Till I can see the sandy ground

Down on the roof so brown –

Up in the air I go flying again,

Up in the air and down!

(their vocab list – the woods, the road, the fence, the school, trees that are knocked down, sand, slides a factory, the playground, cars, a building, trees, the windows, the wind blowing, children, playhouse, the driveway, the door.)

I’m quite delighted with the results. They liked the poem on first reading, but they owned it when we were through. 

Six Degrees of Separation

Art by Deborah Davidson

http://etegamibydosankodebbie.blogspot.com/

This week seems to have been a test of the theory of “six degrees of separation” for me. If you aren’t familiar with Frigyes Karinthy’s theory, it states that people are so connected that there are only about six threads between any two people in the world. I can see how Karinthy’s background could lead him to this conclusion. He was an author, playwright, poet, journalist and translator. Not only would the type of activity he engaged in provide a life of voluminous contacts, but the types of activities he engaged in were those which consisted of making connections. If the only activity in his biography was “translator” that alone would explain his belief in the nature of connection.

Debbie Davidson read the poem I included in my last post and asked permission to create art for it. Imagine that! In fact she made two versions. I like them both so much that I included one here and the other at the head of the last post. Debbie is one of those marvelous people who can take a less than perfect situation and mill what positive there is to be had from it. I know I said this in the last post, but I’ll repeat myself. If you haven’t checked out her blog, Etegami by Dosanko Debbie and her series on “Humanizing the Quake” you are missing out on pure beauty. I feel so humbled to have such beautiful artwork inspired by my writing and to read her thoughts on my poem. Heady stuff.

I also heard from Ann Dixon, Alaskan children’s book author. Amidst the back and forth of catching up with each other, I found out about her blog, Kid Lit North: Where Ravens Roam and Writers Dream It introduces books about northern climates and sheds light on places and events I can only dream about. Years ago during an emergency landing in Anchorage and subsequent surprise overnight stay there, my eyes were opened to the beauty of Alaska. I had always wanted to return, though I prefer to make it a planned visit next time. Through Ann’s books, website and blog I catch a glimpse of the trip I would like to take.

Last Sunday, I headed into Boston to the Boston Museum of Science to see the exhibit “Race: Are We So Different?” It was a thought-provoking exhibit questioning the notion of race. Though many of the things I saw and heard were issues I had given thought to and pursued through reading, the way the exhibit was put together brought ideas together in a powerful way. It is clear that we are all more closely related than we may think at first. The reflections people offered about the richness of their heritage was inspiring, moving and sometimes humorous. The lines between us blur. There are only 12 letters between I and U. I would highly recommend this exhibit.

I also saw the movie “Australia” in the IMAX theatre. The film focused on how Australia and Antarctica were at one time joined and how one became a cold barren land while the other became a harsh desert climate. I learned plenty from the film, including the surprising information that kangaroos and koalas are descendants of the same animal. I also learned about the profusion of pelicans during years of plenty. The connection between life and the land is intricate and integral.

Still, I was disappointed not to see more of the vibrant wildlife that fellow participants of MoP (Month of Poetry) featured in their poetry or conversations. In the evening, I spent time chatting with Australian children’s book writers Kat Apel and Jo Hart about the wildlife they see where they live. I should have known…how can a continent so large and diverse be introduced in a mere 50 minutes? Granted, there is much truth to what the film asserts, but I was looking for a more inclusive view of Australia. One which included the gamut of climates, flora and fauna.

Later in the week, I had an experience that really ties it all together. The power of the internet in connecting us is something we take for granted, but sometimes it is borne out in ways that delight and amaze. When Debbie sent me the first illustration I asked her a bold question – did she know a friend of mine who was rumored to live in her neck of the world. Turns out she didn’t, but a friend did and so after many years I’m back in touch with a dear friend. It was a delightful and awe inspiring experience. I’ve never met Debbie. Just made her acquaintance on twitter a month or two ago. The world is a small and big place. We are connected to each other. Thank goodness. Thank goodness.

Viva, Japan!

As those of you who participated in Month of Poetry know, I owe a debt of gratitude to Japan for not only writing material, but also a way of seeing the world – a change in heart. During Month of Poetry, I found my voice in writing poetic memoir, much of it about experiences I had during the ten years I lived in Tokyo.

About a month ago, a tweet led me to this blog post titled No-divorce expat: a mixed identity becomes permanent . The article struck me motionless for a while after I read it. Much of my identity revolves around my life experiences, especially those of living abroad. My outlook is more global and much less regional than they were previous to those formative years. I still don’t separate myself from the places I have lived or the people I have met.

So the news of earthquake, tsunami, and radiation have had me glued to news feeds. Worrying about the folk I know there. Wishing them well. I’ve written nothing, but encouraging emails and inquiries. Mostly, I’ve been paralyzed.

Undoubtedly you have seen plenty of venues for donating to humanitarian aid for Japan. Many of our children’s literature colleagues have started fundraisers to entice us to participate. By all means do donate, do volunteer.

For those who have watched in horror and need to feel some hope, I’d recommend having a look at Deborah Davidson’s blog Etegami by Dosanko Debbie. She has done a wonderful job of turning her own concerns into a healing, cultural experience in “Humanizing the Earthquake” posts. Not only that, but her whole site is a joy to the eyes. Her paintings are lovely.

  

Looking through my MoP poetry, I could find only one poem which I thought might be appropriate to share at this time. We have heard much of sharing despite the devastation. The gracious willingness to share despite scarcity is what ultimately, will get Japan through this crisis. We see it in the many stories filtering their way to us. Viva, Japan. My prayers are with you.

Mikan

I took a trip to Sado-gashima

All by myself

In winter

rather brave I thought

I had been there before

but never in the snow

at least I knew the road to take

and how to catch a bus.

A snowy day in winter

the cold wind blew in from Russia

I could feel it age my face

More than a wrinkle or two

As I waited at a bus stop

under an awning

in a rice field

I watched the lazy sight

of a hawk loop through the sky.

Before long three village women

wearing mompei and indigo scarves

came and settled on the bench

right next to me.

They didn’t want to stare

but they had seldom seen a white one

except on the tv

and that really didn’t count.

One woman, much braver

than her hesitant companions

turned and faced me

held out a mikan

round and pocked and shiny bright

she offered it to me

I thanked her greatly

which surprised her

more than a little

I could speak her native tongue

Next I knew they had exploded

questions flew through the frost air

Where I came from?

How I got there?

Why would I attempt the trip?

Once they could

they were only happy

to start a conversation

with this wild, strange foreigner.

When the bus came

we all boarded

they insisted that I go first

We sat together

eating mikans

until their stop came

but I stayed on

When they left me

they left the mikans

and the golden memories

of their gracious gifts

Nurturing Feedback Update

It seems like as soon as you have a concept in your mind you start seeing it all around you. You paid a lot for that designer dress thinking it was so unique, but look around and you’ll see it everywhere. When money is at stake this phenomenon holds little charm, but when it is about self-improvement it is delightful.

A tweep (twitter friend for those not in the know) posted a link to Erica Johnson’s blogpost “Are You Well-Versed in Comment Etiquette?”

I enjoyed reading the article and would have posted a comment had I gotten there before the comments closed. Johnson clearly stated something I have been thinking about lately - feedback is about community building.

I started blogging out of curiosity about the technology, what it could do and how it could be used in education. Later as I started realizing how much I enjoy writing I read about online promotion. We have all heard about how building an online platform is essential for the writer/artist/librarian/educator/human being. We have all heard that the way to increase comments on your blog is to comment on the blogs of others.

Sure, it works. Commenting on blogs does get your name out there and people are more likely to comment. Seriously though, starting the feedback challenge for myself I was not thinking about attracting comments. (Not to say that I don’t care. They’ve been delightful, so keep them coming.) Honestly, I was thinking more about the opportunity for personal growth that comes through engagement.

In public education we expect this of our students. We don’t want them to just be passive receptacles of information. We want them to actually be able to apply what they have learned. We hear about engagement, the application to a product, synthesis. I say this every day. I work with colleagues to provide this to our students. It takes time and effort, but we know that this is valuable to our students.

Why would I not want that for myself?

So far my effort to engage more fully in the conversation have paid off. I find that I am making more connections between the information I am consuming and I find the conversations are more satisfying. I have always been the type of person would prefers intimate dinner parties with a few select friends with interesting stories to tell than cocktail parties where you meet many, but learn little. Giving increased feedback seems to lead me in that direction. 

Classical Children’s Lit Malady

I have always loved the classic children’s works written by the likes of Louisa May Alcott, Frances Hodgson Burnett, L. M. Montgomery and their contemporaries. I love the films bringing them to life, especially if they have Shirley Temple in them.

So I have never found it easy to hear someone talk about Scarlet Fever as a treatable, curable malady. The very words bring about visions of sick rooms, drawn bed clothes, the solemn ticking of a grandfather clock and shadows.

A few weeks ago I was exposed to Scarlet Fever. Last week I battled a serious bout of strep throat. This morning I awoke covered in red dots.

After a trip to the doctor, I have been given flight clearance to mingle as much as I want. The course of antibiotics make me safe to be around whether I have a case of Scarlet Fever or an allergy to the medication.

Still, I find the scenes from children’s literature, the classic and its poorer cousin, dance wildly in my head. The drawings of Edward Gorey taunt me and make me want to have that chocolate bar instead of resisting. Life is short and all that.

Children’s literature can uplift, inspire and inform. These old images, however, are not helping me put this into perspective. On the other hand, seen in a providential light, the images so skillfully wrought by our writing predecessors serve not only to make me wary, but also to incite gratitude. Looking back on the works of the foremothers of children’s literature, I can feel inspired by the deftly written story. At the same time, I am grateful yet again that I live in this time. Grateful for the present of a world in which scarlet fever need not be written in capital letters or dealt with in fear. Grateful for a world in which there is the medication to treat the malady.  Very importantly, I am grateful for the fact that I have health insurance.