“Take an object. Do something to it. Do something else to it.”
– Jasper Johns
Find a word you like.
Take the word and write it on canvas.
Mix some colors you like.
Take your word and paint the colors you like into the shape of the word you like.
Paint Jasper Johns Words.
And soon you'll be thinking like Jasper Johns:
“I am just trying to find a way to make pictures.”
Characters do things. They feel things. They hear things.
They say things. They think things. They go places. They can walk, run, leap,
and jump. They may sit and rock in a rocking chair. They may just lie in bed,
sleep, and dream. But the important thing is that characters act. And it is
precisely these actions that show us just what kind of imaginary people characters
are—friendly, sad, nosey, happy, confused, angry, or inventive. And we need to
know because something always happens in great stories. Character determines
the outcome.
Earlier this month, my son Søren sat on the couch chuckling
to himself, turning the pages of an old favorite. It’s Lewis Carroll
re-imagined. Christopher Myers keeps the text the same but re-imagines the
beast as a basketball-playing-Jabberwocky. And the protagonist? Well, he
becomes a small boy with basketball-shaped-stars in his eyes.
What fascinated me about the scene was what happened when
the book was closed. My son smiled, got off the couch to rummage around the art
cabinet for paper, scissors, and tape. Silently he concentrated, cutting shapes
and connecting them until the characters emerged. Then he swept up the scraps,
set his characters to hold the gesture, and walked away from the table without
a word.
I know what he was up to. This was literary analysis at its
best. Carroll’s Jabberwocky is a larger than life, but there is no doubt that the
storm of neologism and nonsense qualifies it as a very difficult read. To most,
Søren’s hive of post reading activity might be deemed at best a responsive
craft. But Søren was actually deep in thought. This post-reading activity was
uniquely contemplative, was Søren’s way of unpacking Lewis Carroll’s poem and
the consequent reimagining of Christopher Myer.
And I know where Søren’s pondering will lead. It will lead
to an idea. Sometimes we begin with a study of someone else’s idea to incubate
an original idea of our own. So it might not be this week, maybe not even next,
but I’m sure Lewis Carroll and Christopher Meyer offered fodder that has been
sufficiently tucked away in the mind of my son.
–Kim
Linda has two little boys, has always dreamed of
homeschooling but she’s brand new to the Guild Method. So she flew to
California this summer so that Sara and I could help her shape her the lessons.
Her oldest son, Zach, was ripe for Kindergarten and so was she!
Back home, when school days arrived, she was ready and so
pictures of little boys water coloring apple trees, little fingers writing
words in salt, little paint brushes encoding CVC words in tempera on butcher
paper in the bright sunshine, and little minds constructing giant floor puzzles
delighted my email inbox. SO cute! Sure, there were tiny kinks to adjust here and there, but
the transition to school days was a beautiful thing in Linda’s little Ohio Guild.
But we all know what’s coming, right? The very first one of those
best-laid-plans days. So here we are,
nearing October. And a different kind of email was grimacing in my inbox, “…it
turned out to be a super frustrating experience…Grrr.” It seems Zach recognized
that he was face-to-face with a pencil-to-paper challenge and he took an about
face.
I smiled, “There it is…!”
Linda was super excited to begin our Fall Discovery Guide with her son. I still am. I am super excited for
her rocky beginning because it tells her precisely where Zach is strong and
where Zach is weak. Now the trick is to slowly strengthen him so he sees the
uphill climb as an adventure.
Our Earlybird Discovery Guides are recommended for a range
of Kindergarten and lower level primary (grades 1 and 2) children who are in
the process of acquiring foundational decoding and encoding skills, but not yet
reading and writing independently. What this means is that the material must be
approached with the child’s ability in mind. The important thing at this stage
of academic development is to challenge the child to press into work that
requires discipline without crushing the marvelous innate passion for learning.
Here are the tips I
offered Linda—Easy as 1, 2, 3:
1. Pace important work over 5 days.
Tackle the writing in
15-minute increments. Shrink some of the responsibility for writing, but not
the problem solving and idea making.
Monday
Read the story.
Have Zach draw the characters and to describe their
personality traits—how they think, act, feel. Capture three “trait” words from
his stream of communication and write them out so he can copy them into his
guide. Give him 15 minutes to do the copy work.
Tuesday
Work on the vocabulary matching exercises together. Then,
read the sentences with the missing words and have Zach choose between two of
the vocabulary words to complete the sentences. Write the words that complete
each sentence for Zach to copy during his 15-minute “Important Work” time.
Wednesday
Read the story again, this time stopping periodically for
Zach to tell you what is about to happen.
Work with Zach to complete the comprehension sentences from
the Word Bank. Write the words that complete each sentence for Zach to copy
during his 15-minute “Important Work” time.
Thursday
No reading today… unless, that is, Zach asks you to read the
story again!
Today, for the sentences in the Comprehension section that
are to be completed with original phrases—dependent clauses—let Zach dictate
while you inscribe. That’s right, NO writing for Zach! As you complete each
sentence, write slowly, and say each word aloud as if you are sounding out
letter that forms the word. In doing so you will be modeling the art of
encoding language.
Friday
Have Zach re-tell the story in his own words. Then, read the
creative writing prompt for the Writing Exercise. Pass the Earlybird Guide to
Zach and let him “draw” his story with colored pencils. When he is done
drawing, let him dictate a two or three sentence to you. Inscribe his ideas…NO writing
for Zach!
2. Think Longitude.
As Zach becomes more comfortable with writing—and this
will take time, think longitude—allow him to take over bits and pieces of the
writing you are doing for him.
3. Reach for the Stars!
Create a Star Chart and a prize box filled with
dollar-store trinkets. For every ten stars, Zach gets to go shopping. Here,
Linda came up with the terrific idea to use beans in a jar, clink clink clink,
what boy would not love this noise? Thanks Linda!
There’s a phrase I’ve learned to grip tightly over the
years. Recently, my dear friend, Christian, added a quirky little “whoa,
horsie” sass to the phrase. This made me chuckle, “Yes!” The phrase is
“stagger, tortoise.” Now you try it. That’s right. Now, say it again, only
louder, “S-t-a-g-g-e-r, tortoise!”
–Kim
Television from WaterhouseGuild on Vimeo.
Each poem is a one-of-a-kind collage of sounds that tickle the tip-of-the-tongue and a rhythmic hammering that sparks a tap-of-the-toe.
Poetry is a larger part of our world than we often admit. It’s the songs we sing, commercial jingles, rap, billboards, and YouTube. Poetry is headlines, Facebook, and blogs. Poetry is in great books and essays. Poetry is everywhere!
And so poetry is worth our while—worth reading, worth writing, worth speaking out loud, worth memorizing.
“Memorizing?”
This past winter, when I challenged my writing apprentices to memorize a poem, I had to endure another collective groan, “Noooo…!” And when I showed them the poem they would have two weeks to memorize, they went pale and were silenced.
The poem “Television” by Roald Dahl was the perfect poem for this project not only because we were exploring the theme “Unplug” in our writing workshop, but because if was long enough to prove the vast potential of their ability to memorize.
The lesson began, “Memorized poems fill the pantry of our imagination with food that is sure to sustain us in lean times. If you don’t believe, read Frederick, by Leo Lionni.”
I went on, “I know, these days we’re not used to memorizing long passages of traditional poetry. But, wait think about all the memorizing we do on a daily basis!”
We generated a list and I saw color return to their cheeks.
Row, row, row your boat…
The wheels on the bus go round and round…
Peter Piper picked a peck…
Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there…
I shared a story about my oldest Hannah being able to recite all of Beatrice Potter’s Peter Rabbit when she was three simply because I read it to her so often, “Memorizing is something you are equipped to accomplish!”
Still, I was struck by downcast attitude of my writing apprentices, as if this was the most arduous task on the planet. Can you say “Mountain from a molehill?” It was actually painful to watch them shilly-shally.
I’m happy to report that by the end of week one most of them found their footing. By the beginning of week two, they were having so much FUN that I announced we would be making a film of the project. We would turn Dahl’s poem into a documentary.
Here’s how I helped them break the memorization into manageable bits:
1. Begin with a close reading. This poem is a very long single stanza. Count the sentences in the poem. Translate each sentence into your own words. Write out each translation on a piece of paper.
2. Copy the poem, one sentence at a time and say the sentence slowly as you write.
3. Break the poem into small, manageable sections. Read and repeat one line at a time from a section without looking. Listen to the rhythm. Read the next line from this section, then repeat (without looking) the two lines. Continue on in this manner.
4. Once the entire poem is memorized, breathe life into your reading by going back to your close reading notes. Use your voice to add inflection.
At the end of the list I promised, “Soon you will not only have the poem memorized, but you carry the poem in your heart.”
And they did.
And they do.
So before summer slips too far away, plan an UNPLUG activity or two… and please, please, please, memorize a poem!
As tradition goes, we usher in summer with a collaborative iMadonnari creation.
This year’s inspiration was “Still Life with Apples” by Paul Cézanne.
In our world where
fast paced technological communicating is the norm, our lexicon is shrinking
hand over fist. But the potential of words is a great wonder. Words are salty goodness that pepper writing with flavor.
So this month at the Guild we are, once again, making words.
Last spring I
introduced my writers to the idea of “neologisms” coined by Lewis Carroll. I
began by asking the writers to remind me of the details from last spring’s
lesson. I was surprised that they remembered with great detail the suffixes we
explored so long ago:
» cosm
[From Greek kosmos, order,
universe.]
Universe; world
microcosm, macrocosm
» esque
[F., fr. It. -isco. Cf. –ish.]
An
adjective suffix indicating manner or style
Arabesque, Romanesque
» ism
[Greek -ismos, -isma noun suffix]
A
suffix used to form action nouns from verbs, distinctive doctrine, system, or
theory skepticism, truism
They even
remembered more than a handful of the words they crafted, words like: appleism,
s-e-e-ism, TVism, tablesque, pencilesque, windesque, bouncehousecosm,
balooncosm, and lollycosm
As I sat with the
group, I marveled at their retention, but more significantly at their
delight. can’t say the same
about any of the vocabulary development lessons that I’ve utilized through the
years from various curriculums that shall remain nameless!
The art of
crafting neologisms focuses the writer’s attention on the specificity of words
and their potential to enact ideas in a very meaningful way. And lessons that
are meaningful are lasting.
So we began our
exploration of suffixes, mining for meaning and application:
» able
[From Latin abilis, capable of, fit
for.]
washable, enjoyable, pitiable
ex.
Neologism – baloonable
» nomy
[From Greek nomos, system of rules
or knowledge.] astronomy, economy, autonomy
ex.
Neologism – iPodonomy
» ization
[From Greek izein, to become.]
popularization, organization, generalization
ex.
Neologism – basketballization
»
ology
[From Greek logia, to speak of, study or science of.]
biology, geology, anthropology
ex.
Neologism – pickleology
» phobia
[From
Latin phobia, abnormal fear] claustrophobia, arachnophobia, xenophobia
ex.
Neologism – flipflopphobia
» ward
[From
Middle English ward, specifics of direction] toward, homeward, backward
ex.
Neologism – chocolateward
Bonus Suffix:
» biotic
[From
Greek biotikis, of life, method of living] antibiotic, probiotic, microbiotic
ex.
Neologism – fauxbiotic
Ultimately, I challenged the
writers to create a list of neologisms for each suffix. Now I challenge you to do
the same. And as you do, keep in mind, words are a great wonder! Go and salt the earth.
-Kim
These curious little balls commonly known as water pearls (I prefer my name) are in a word…captivating.
Their usefulness in exploring science and math are obvious and you can find tons of great ideas all over the Internet for incoroprating these little gems into your learning adventures.
Or maybe simply playing with and marveling at them holds just as much educational value.
Sometimes poetry can be found in the most unexpected places.
Q: What is the purpose of poetry?
A: Why an Ars
Poetica of course.
Q: A what?
(Now the fun begins…)
A: Well, being a Latin phrase “ars poetica” is translated
“on the art of poetry” in English. And art by definition allows the imagination to speak. Art shows.
Q: So how does poetry show?
A: Let’s explore.
To begin, compare a
poem to the unexpected and you will begin to see the art of poetry:
A poem is an orange balloon against the blue sky.
A poem is a gift-wrapped pair of well-worn sneakers.
A poem is a baby crying at the end of a nap.
A poem is a collection of musical notes.
A poem is a silver spoon diving into vanilla ice cream.
A poem is honey on the tongue.
Keep going…
Think about how the
poem infuses the senses and you will begin to “show” the art of poetry. Generate
ideas by answering the following questions:
How does poem sound?
Example – A poem is river tumbling stones.
How does a poem look?
Example – A poem is a glass tower in gloaming.
How does a poem feel to the touch?
Example – A poem is nestled in velvet and fingertips stroking bark.
How does a poem taste?
Example – A poem is cayenne smothered in chocolate.
How does a poem smell?
Example – A poem is honeysuckle on a warm spring day.
Where does a poem take the reader?
Example -…to stars hanging in night sky.
Gather
more fodder by imagining a series of “what if” scenarios…
If your poem was on the moon, how would it
survive?
If your poem was on stage, what would it
wear and how would it act?
If your poem was a bird, what would it see?
What if your poem went exploring?
Keep imagining until you have a page of
ideas.
Now, began by
crafting your ideas to single sentences that describe the art of poetry and the
essence of a poem:
Example-
A poem is the clap of rain, the trumpet of thunder and
takes me to stars hanging in the night sky.
Next, break each sentence into poetic phrases. Feel free
to make little word adjustments as you craft your line breaks:
A poem is
clap of rain,
trumpet of thunder,
and painter of stars
clinging to the night sky.
As you see, each sentence will be crafted to a single
stanza. Try another and another. Soon you will have your Ars Poetica.
Archibald MacLeish "Ars
Poetica" (1926)
A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit,
Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb,
Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown
–
A poem should be wordless
As the flight of birds.
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs,
Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,
Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,
Memory by memory the mind –
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs.
A poem should be equal to
Not true.
For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf.
For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea
–
A poem should not mean
But be.
Yesterday
one of my apprentices brought me a gift. She simply handed me the sunny little
package and smiled. Actions really do speak louder than words, but in this case
the action was sparked by the whisper of words. And that whisper was echoing
all the way from Elizabethan England, a whisper from the Bard himself.
This
particular apprentice has been part of my high school literature and
composition workshop for three years. When her parents came to me for help at
the beginning of her sophomore year, she was on her school’s “at risk” list. But,
after meeting this girl, I knew she was not at risk. This girl was not
interested in words—not the reading of words, not the writing of words, not the
speaking of words. This girl was not interested because she could not imagine what
in the world words had to do with her.
I
receive calls on a regular basis from parents deeply concerned by apathetic,
and often dangerous, behavioral tendencies in their uninspired adolescents.
My
heart breaks each and every time.
The
solution to this dilemma is a complex choreography that can only be
accomplished longitudinally, one step at a time. But the dance can’t begin
until I teach the dancer to read. I’m
not talking about phonics—this is not about learning to decode language on the
page. Truth is, illiteracy is much more than an inability to decipher letters
on a page. I’m talking about the insidious kind of illiteracy that begins with
three small words, “Books are boring.” This is the kind of illiteracy that
shrinks possibility.
Choosing
to read is courageous.
More
than one parent has asked me, “What have learning to read and write got to do
with promoting individuality?”
Great
stories are chock-a-block with possibility.
Possibility
has the potential to spark curiosity.
Curiosity
leads to imagination.
Imagination
fuels dreams.
Over
the years I’ve mentored countless young people whose GPA does not reflect their
potential. And this particular apprentice was no exception. So I began as I
always do, I handed her a book.
Great
stories contain the potential to be instructive and experiential. For those who
know how to use them, books will spark curiosity, evoke imagination, and foster
creative critical thinking. Because the intellectual, emotional, and spiritual
components of a story are inseparable, a single story can profoundly impact an
individual. A great story may encourage us to revel in the beauty of creation,
coax us to embrace heroism, fight injustice, may inspire us to love our
neighbor as ourselves. No matter the case, great stories hold the potential for
the reader to glean wisdom. Great stories encourage us to persevere in the
complex tasks we encounter while reaching for life’s potential.
I
took this high school sophomore by the hand and stood with her at the first
page of a book, “In this particular story, as seventh grade comes to a close,
Allegra Leah Shapiro has been selected as a finalist in a prestigious violin
competition and this stirs up all sorts of inner conflict…”
Why
does summer have to be so hectic?
What
does it mean to be half Jew and half gentile?
Why
is soprano, Diedre, crying?
How
can I be a twelve-year-old violinist and have time to be a friend?
Why
is my brother so annoying?
How
has Mr. Trouble lost his song?
What
is this gift from Bubbe
Raisa?
And
what of this great-grandmother I’ve been named after?
Will
I be able to dig deep enough for Mozart?
Can
I undo what has been done?
I
read this to my apprentice believing with all of my heart that Allegra, might
be able to inspire her, if she dared to read between the lines and listen, “You
are not alone.”
“The Mozart Season,” I tell her, “is a
quiet story, one filled with resounding music that just might change your
life.” I leave it there, hand her the book and ask her (well, okay, require her) to read a bit so we can
discuss the story in a week.
I’m
always hopeful, but when a week has passed, I know she might still be at the
starting blocks. This particular type of race is never a sprint.
A
week later I ask, “So have you completed the reading?”
“Well,
no, not really, I mean, well…”
“This
was required reading.”
“I
just really don’t get it.”
Obviously
this is not about decoding the words on the page. This girl knows how to read, thing
is, she has no idea how to be inspired by a story, has no idea how to embrace
the universal truths, let alone apply them to her life. This girl has no idea
how to animate a character like Allegra.
So
I read the opening paragraph on the first page of chapter one: “In Mr. Kaplan’s
studio is a needlepoint pillow, on a chair. On one side of it is a violin. The
other side says, A teacher is someone who
makes you believe you can do it. Somebody who took lessons from him a long
time ago made it. When I was little, I couldn’t read it clearly because
needlepoint letters have odd shapes.”
“Seems
to me Virginia Euwer Wolff is using pretty plain language. This is not
Shakespeare!”
“Um,
I don’t know.”
“Has
anyone ever told you that a great story is a mentor?”
She
is about to roll her eyes, but surprisingly trusts me instead, “What?”
With
I sigh of relief, I don’t miss a beat, “If we dig deep enough into the heart of
a story, dig to its very core, we always discover a treasure. And I believe
that this treasure has the power to inform our life. A book leads us by the
hand on an exploration of discovery that will make us a richer person.”
“But
my mind wanders when I read.”
“Mine
too.”
“Really?”
“Yes.
I’ve worked to slow down when I read, worked to build habits that help me ponder
words, phrases, passages, peculiar shape, sound and meaning. And this work,
this habit of being, has enabled me to value reading. Truth is, I’ve learned to
love stories because I’ve discovered that stories enrich my individuality. I
know you can too. I want to help
you through this book because there is embedded treasure just for you. I want
to help you do the work of extracting that treasure because your individuality
matters. You matter”
She
is beaming, but only for an instant. Then the work began.
That
was three years ago. We made it though The
Mozart Season in much the same way that Allegra got through the violin
competition, gathering strength along the way. We read Pictures of Hollis Woods. We read Milkweed. We read another and another. Last fall we read The Screwtape Letters. This fall we
tackled Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet.
So
when my apprentice handed me the bag of snacks smirking the slogan, “Much ado
about Mango,” I know she’s learned to read, really read. I hear the violins and
see Allegra smile, “Remember,
what’s down inside you, all covered up—the things of your soul. The important,
secret things . . . The story of you, all buried, let the music caress it out
into the open.”
– Kim
Up until recently I thought that the Twelve Days of
Christmas were the twelve days before Christmas. Not so. These twelve days, The
Twelve Days of Christmas, are twelve days after Crīstesmæsse, the Chrsitmastide.
Twelve days came down to us from centuries past to represent
the timing of the Magi, the Wise Ones from the East who followed stars and
discovered something unimaginable—the Christ child in a stable.
And so this year, here in the 21st century, we
are celebrating for twelve days after Christmas anticipating Epiphany or Three
Kings Day.
Here are some ideas how you might too…
Here’s to keeping our hearts contemplating the curiosity of
days, hope and joy for the New Year.
– The Whole Blackbird Team!