Small Celebrations

Today's thought is stolen, or rather borrowed, as I am giving credit where it is due (unlike a handful of students whose essays I graded over the weekend). There's not really much more to add to these concluding words from the book I finished this morning. Well...maybe this: take some time to read professionally...whatever you do. Find or create ten to fifteen minutes every day to better yourself by living vicariously through someone else's real experiences. You can avoid a few mistakes and discover a few new tricks. That said, here is what I found today about celebrating writers. I also think it applies to all aspects of life:

(taken from “Closing Thoughts” in Celebrating Writers: From Possibilities Through Publication by Ruth Ayres with Christi Overman)

            “‘…You have the power to decide if the day is going to be pleasant. It is completely up to you. You can make choices that lead to a pleasant day or choices that lead to unpleasant consequences. Either way is up to you.’

            “The same is true in our classrooms. There are many things we cannot control. We cannot control educational mandates. We cannot control fathers drinking and mothers leaving. We cannot control standardized writing assessments.

            “But we can choose joy.

            “This is the heart of celebration. We choose joy about the excess periods in a student’s writing, because a month ago there were none. We choose joy about the three meager lines of writing, because yesterday there were crushed pencil points and tears. We choose joy about the misspellings, because all of the sight words are accurate.

            “In the face of so much need, we can make a choice to celebrate. There will always be an error, a refusal, an inadequate paragraph. Student writing will never be perfect. We live among the mess. We can choose to wallow in the doom. Or we can choose joy.”

Book Connections:
1. Let the Celebrations Begin by Margaret Wild (Julie Vivas)
2. The Table Where Rich People Sit by Byrd Baylor (Peter Parnall)
3. Touching Spirit Bear by Ben Mikaelsen

We'll see if anyone gets the connection with the picture:

(Taken from http://hazyoasis.deviantart.com/art/Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy-290665440)

Great Lessons Come in Small (Mongoose-sized) Packages

This is the story of the great war between good and evil. Well, kind of. It starts in a much smaller package,  a simple metaphor that 7^th graders always bought into when we read Rudyard Kipling’s “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi” (1894), even if they did so unknowingly. 

(taken from http://www.mysteryplayground.net/2013/12/rikki-tiki-tavi.html)

I was first introduced to this story many years ago as an elementary school student—perhaps third or fourth grade when I devoured Kipling's The Jungle Book (not Disney) and Just So Stories. Soon after discovering the story of the mongoose, I was lounging about trying to avoid the Las Vegas heat on a Saturday afternoon, when to my surprise, Chuck Jones’s animated version of the story,(narrated by Orson Welles) came on. My Looney Tunes and Grinch addictions had already established my Chuck Jones obsession. Like a bird transfixed by Nag, I was glued to the TV.

Fast forward 30 years and my students were equally hooked by this story of deadly snakes and little Rikki. Most students admit they like it, even if they pretend not to pay attention. One of the last years I had 7^th graders, I asked one class—the majority of them reluctant readers—why they liked this story so much. Predictably, many of them said that they liked snakes or the fighting. One girl, Cecilie, shyly spoke up and said she thought the story was an embodiment of good versus evil.

Wow! Where did that come from?

As I’ve thought about that particular conversation, and discussed similar themes with my (new) science fiction and fantasy literature class this semester, I know she’s right. This theme of good triumphing over evil is a universal draw for kids of all ages, even if they parade as adults; it’s a story so old it’s the essence of our existence. Well, at least some people think so. 

(lifted from http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/the-emperors-new
-groove/picks/results/554659/whos-sholder-angel-devil-like-better)

Regardless, it really makes for great classroom, boardroom, or break room discussion. My personal favorite literary battle of good over evil is Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings because of its simple complexities: small and simple and good upsets the suffocating reaches of evil. However, I think that a mongoose fighting to defend “his people” from the pure evil nature of these cobras Nag and Nagaina and the brown snake Karait is the same basic story on a simpler scale. And when it comes to external conflicts, it’s one that just about everyone can get behind. Whether you are talking about dark lords, whaling, video games, cowboys, or playground bullies, everyone roots for the “good guy,” right? It’s only natural.

P.S. Watching snakes is pretty cool, even if they give you the heebie jeebies. On a 7^th grade field trip to the London Zoo, my friends and I witnessed two king cobras attacking and then dining on a handful of white rats. When it’s evil vs. evil, nobody involved wins…except possibly some 7^th grade boys snickering behind protective glass.

"Hope Where I Least Expected"

I was digging through some old writer's notebooks that had collected on a corner of my desk--a special spot where I deposit things to sift through later. The Internet went down the other day, and so Later came sooner, and I explored the stacks, finding various projects that had been started, a few brainstorms of others that I'd like to start charging up, and even a few partially-worked pieces. One of those was this Bring Me poem that 7th grader Tyler C. asked me to help him shape after selecting an object from the field behind the school. He asked me if I could share the creation with others. That was about four or years ago, I think; he's at the high school now (for now).

I guess I should keep my promise:

"Hope Where I Least Expected" by Tyler C. (and Joe Average Writer)

(http://www.alamy.com/stock-photo/dead-dandelion.html)

Dying Dandelion,
shriveling up like a 
hopeless twig in a fire
stubbornly striving to thrive
where others left you
for dead,
forgotten and forlorn,
spread
and spring up new
despite field of hate
and despise;
bring me a sign
that life goes on.


(Maybe there's a metaphor for what I found as well.)