With clouds so low
you have to crouch
tunneling through
moisture as thick as mud
Afternoon rays
raise the ceiling
pelicans wing their way overhead
perfectly centered
between
blue skies
and
blue seas
Spring whispers
in the sea breeze
dancing intricate patterns
with shore bird partners
All the while my heart
beats out rhythms of summer
a song of longing
and anticipation.
©Douillard
I’m not in the classroom on Thursday, so no stories of poetry with my students today. But yesterday we did have quite an experience in the science lab. You might remember that a week ago I wrote a post about grunion, our special little southern California fish. Well yesterday…sure enough, we had the opportunity to replicate the motion of the ocean and hatch tiny transparent grunion right in front of our eyes!
A spoonful of sand (that we hoped were laden with grunion eggs) in a glass baby food jar, some ocean water til almost full, twist the lid on, and then some gentle swirling or shaking…and voila! We noticed the eyes first, and then my students’ eyes opened wide. The wonder was apparent on their faces…and in their squeals of delight. Our science teacher promised she would take these babies back to their home at the end of the day. It was such fun hatching these very special fish, and getting a close-up view of nature in action. I suspect my students will remember this experience for a very long time!
And for Day 4 of National Poetry Month, a Tanka:
Grunion
Laid in midnight sand
rocking waves hatch fish babies
new eyes view the world
peering through briny water
can the babies hear the squeals?
©Douillard
I wonder if any of my students wrote grunion poems today.
It’s hard to top a day like yesterday…at least when it comes to poetry. Today’s schedule was crunched, another minimum day and my last classroom day until after Spring Break. But we still made space for a bit of poetry inspiration. Today I read a few poems from When Green Becomes Tomatoes by Julie Fogliano. Interestingly, she titles each poem in this lovely book by the date she wrote it, taking us through the seasons of the year. We read April 3 (which was eerily a description of a day very much like the one we experienced today…I love this first line: “today the sky was too busy sulking to rain…”), June 15 (a piece about tasting sunshine), and July 10 (the title piece with the refrain “when green becomes tomatoes”). And in a typical 8 and 9 year old fashion, my students, when they turned to their own writing, wrote about their birthdays!
Isla (who happens to share my birthday) was determined that her June 2nd birthday falls in the summer. She wrote this piece inspired by when green becomes tomatoes:
June 2
When summer turns into my birthday
The sky is happy!
life is happy
it is the time to get…
everything I want
(more than sad)
(more than happy)
The best
When leaves are green and light is here
no thunder, no lightening
just…
wind blowing and birds chirping
when summer turns into my birthday
And Leah, who’s birthday falls a bit later in the month, gives a more tentative prediction using “I believe” to frame her poem:
June 23
On June 23rd
I believe it will be cloudy
with a hint of sun.
On June 23rd
I believe it will be hot.
On June 23rd
I believe flowers will bloom.
On June 23rd
I believe it will be my birthday.
I took my poem in a little different direction, thinking about how my three precious grandsons have grown from babies to active, sturdy three year old toddlers in what seems like a blink of an eye. Just where does the time go?
April 3
When babies become toddlers
tiny fingers that used to grab mine
build towers as tall as they are
then topple them with belly laughs
When babies become toddlers
goos and gaas turn into words
that turn into stories
of wonder and adventure
When babies become toddlers
reading becomes play
finding objects, chiming in
anticipating
devouring each word, each page
with minds instead of mouths
When babies become toddlers
those once tiny feet patter
running faster than seems possible
running towards childhood
leaving babyhood behind.
©Douillard
Today we turned to William Carlos Williams for inspiration. Using the book A River of Words: The Story of William Carlos Williams by Jen Bryant, I introduced my students to William Carlos Williams. I wanted to continue the focus on the ordinary as well as show a poet who continued his writing while working as a doctor. I’ve been working to dispel the myth that poetry has to rhyme…and this book definitely helped make that point!
Once we learned a bit about Williams, we studied two of his poems to use as mentor texts for our own poems. The Red Wheelbarrow surprised my students. It seemed so short and so simple at first glance…and then they started to notice. The word glazed really caught their attention…and made them think of doughnuts rather than rain coated wheelbarrows. Then we started to play around with how to put our own content into a poem like The Red Wheelbarrow. My third grade students could hardly contain themselves…they were so excited about writing! Here’s a couple of their efforts:
With Caleb’s you can see the influence of living by the sea
The Colorful Afterglow
So much depends
upon
a colorful
afterglow
swarming with
bright colors
beside the turquoise
ocean
Luca captured the beauty of the ordinary
The Tree Full of Leaves
So much depends
on
a tree full of
leaves
being a home to
animals big and
small
standing tall over
the dirt path.
And Sloane turned her attention to a rock and strayed from a “so much depends” first line to create her own version of a poem inspired by WCW.
The Rock
So much pressure
is on
the rock by the river
feathered in river water
beside the ringing sound
of the river
We then turned our attention to Williams’ This is Just to Say. They noticed right away that it seemed like a conversation–that the poet was talking to someone in this poem. And that he seemed sorry…but not really sorry. This poem seemed to give them permission to be playful…and even try out teasing their teacher!
Sagan knew I would appreciate this one (can you tell what conversation we have over and over again?):
Oops…
I forgot to show my thinking
in my math homework
again
even though it said to
show your thinking
I’m sorry
but at the same time
it’s way faster
and way more efficient
And Piper stretched to see use how far she could take a bit of teasing, making me the subject of her poem
This is Just to Say
Mrs. Douillard
I have destroyed
your classroom
which you were probably
going to use
to teach kids in
Forgive me
I was just trying
to have a good time
Some students played around with different foods, inspired by WCW’s refreshing sounding plums
Nathalie tried cherries
This is Just to Say
I have eaten
the cherries that
were in the bowl
and which you
were saving for dessert
tomorrow
Forgive me
they were so sweet
and delicious
While Aspen imagined ice cream
This is Just to Say
I ate your ice cream
that was in your lunch
which you were probably
saving for after your
chicken
please forgive me
it just tasted so creamy
and so refreshing
We had so much fun on this second day of National Poetry Month! Here’s my poem for the day:
Feeding Time
So much depends
upon the sea pulling back
revealing shallow
pools
teeming with tiny fish
and crustaceans
beside the hungry white
egret
©Douillard
It’s April 1st, the first day of National Poetry Month and a perfect day to “fool” around with some poetry! Since my students are I are taking a poem-a-day challenge, we needed to generate some inspiration today to get us in the poetry frame of mind.
We started by reading Tiny Perfect Things by M.H. Clark, a book that focuses on the wonder and beauty of the ordinary. Then we headed outside (it was an almost-summer day, 75 and sunny) with our iPads in search of tiny perfect things to photograph as inspiration for our poetry. My students found lizards, beetles, and roly polys. They found apple blossoms shaped like stars, California poppies peeking through the chain link fence, and cotton floating down from the cotton plant in the school garden. They chased the monarch butterfly across the field in hopes of a viable photo. And when we returned to the classroom, they wrote.
It’s conference week, so the days are short. But I’m already loving their first drafts…and their willingness to share. The variety was impressive…and the playfulness so satisfying! Here’s a couple to give you a taste.
Luke’s first draft poem played around with a repeated refrain:
Rose
You catch my eye
how white you are,
with yellow in the middle
and your pod red.
You catch my eye
on a pointy bush
and a soft flower.
You catch my eye,
you stand out.
Of all the flowers,
you are as white as snow.
You catch my eye.
And Alice couldn’t resist playing around with the idea of April Fool’s Day, inspired by her brother’s prank on another student:
Red Rug of Sap
It can be red,
it can be black,
my little red rug of sap.
It lays upon a tree
resting
til it is the day.
Check the calendar!
What is today?
April first! April first!
April Fool’s Day!
Time to stain my finger
red or black
with my little red rug of sap.
My own first draft poem was inspired by the rusty chain and lock around the gate on the side of the school.
Looped and Locked
Metal
weathered, rusted, oxidized
days, years, decades
outside
exposed
to fog
to rain
to sun
to briny sea air
still strong
linked like children holding hands
safety in numbers
comfort in connection
looped around the gate
and snapped shut
with a tiny, perfect
Master lock.
©Douillard
I’m looking forward to reading others’ first day of National Poetry Month entries today!
Thirty out of thirty one days in March I wrote a blog post and made it public. (I missed a day somewhere along the way because I was sick.) Today is the day to think about just what writing a slice of life each day has meant.
I know that writing every day makes writing every day just a bit easier. Early in the month it felt hard to come up with topics, each day felt like a stretch. And then, just like I tell my students, I started to live more like a writer. Each and every experience I have during the day becomes fodder for thinking and writing. I like that writing makes me pay more attention. I notice details, make word associations, connect seemingly disparate parts of my life as I write and reflect.
I know that photography helps me generate writing. It is yet another tool for paying attention to the world around me. With my camera around my neck, the world slows down allowing me to notice what I might otherwise overlook. When I go back later to view the images I captured, new thinking floods my brain, filling in the stories between the shots. I re-view the things I noticed that I wasn’t able to capture through my lens and I see my experiences anew.
I know that the Slice of Life Challenge community is a gift to me as a writer. As I posted my permalink each day, I knew someone would read and comment on my writing. This community is accepting and generous. Encouraging words keep a writer moving forward. As I read slices from others, I shared my thinking with them and learned from their words too. I posted because I said I would, and because I knew that a community was there to listen. That encouraged me to write, to revise, to push myself to continue to grow as a writer and as a responder.
And I love that writing each day creates a record of my thinking and my experiences. I can return to my thinking later, reconsider those thoughts in light of new insights and experiences. And as someone who tends to be an introvert, it invites others into my life in ways I don’t often make space for verbally or in casual in-person interactions.
March and my daily slices end today, but tomorrow I am taking on a new challenge. My students and I will be taking a 30 day poem-a-day challenge for National Poetry Month. So look for a poem from me…and if things go well, poems from some of my students as well, each day of April!
With reports cards written and parent conferences ahead of me, today was low-key. Sandwiched between errands, lunch out, and a chiropractic appointment, we fit in a noticing walk on the beach.
Today is part of a warming trend in our parts, sunny and clear, breezy with temperatures in the low 70s. Beach goers were out in full force, taking advantage of a beautiful spring weekend. (This has definitely been an in like a lion, out like a lamb March!)
Some days at the beach I have no idea what I’ll take a photo of. I have tons of beach photos from all seasons, so I’m always alert to something new or unusual in some way. We walked a different beach today, one further north than my usual Moonlight Beach, just because it was on our way from one errand to another. As I walked my eyes were drawn to the maze of stairways from multimillion dollar homes on the cliffs zigzagging their way down the steep bluffs. I took several shots, trying to capture that effect in my photo. (There are more–I was wishing to get an even wider view through my lens!)
As I pressed the shutter, my husband called out to me. “Do you see that? Right there on the ladder…see the osprey?” I didn’t at first (even though I had just photographed that very ladder!), my husband had to direct my gaze to see the bird in the distance. We carefully moved closer, picking our way across the stones in our bare feet. We photographed and watched, mesmerized by this majestic bird of prey. After a few minutes of close observation, we walked back closer to the water’s edge. As we took a last look over our shoulder, we saw it flying away in the other direction. I am so glad my husband saw what I hadn’t noticed!
We continued our walk, and I found my eyes alternating between watching the brilliant cobalt blue sky where sea birds soared and searching the sand and rocks for sea glass. Looking up, I saw a variety of gulls and terns, ravens, and even an egret in flight. And always a favorite, pelican squadrons made their runs up and down the coast.
As we headed back the car I couldn’t resist a close look at the wildflowers growing along the beach path. I noticed the bees busily buried in the centers of these native yellow beauties.
While I ended up spending the majority of my day out and about, it was a day for relaxing and noticing rather than hurrying and worrying. I watched and wondered, taking time to breathe deeply and enjoy time out with my love on this perfect spring day. I can feel my energy levels charging–just what I’ll need for the week of parent conferences that are just around the corner!
I often find myself taking the same photo over and over again. Obviously my eye is drawn to the subject. I do try different angles, shifting every so slightly to capture the best light, something different in the background, or looking from another direction.
Sometimes I’m not even aware that I’m taking the same photo until I’m reminded–by a scroll through my images or a reminder of a memory from Facebook or my photo album.
But today I knew.
My Friday schedule let me take advantage of a nice low tide at midday. I could feel the sun’s warmth as my bare feet traveled over the wet sand and was glad for my light sweatshirt in the low 60s early spring sea breeze. When the tide is low and I don’t feel rushed for time, my turnaround point is lifeguard tower #19. #19 is also a favorite local surfing spot and a popular dining spot for sandpipers.
If you look north from #19, you can see Swamis–another popular (and famous) surfing spot with its iconic palm tree topped hillside. I often take a photo or two with that view…like I did today.
And as I looked through my photos, also back in November and December!
Occasionally, I find myself taking another perspective, giving yet another view of #19. (The tide was too high on this day for my usual perspective, I was forced up the hillside to avoid getting wet!)
I’m not sure what all this says about either the lifeguard tower or me as a photographer. But I did find myself thinking about William Carlos Williams and The Red Wheelbarrow. (April is National Poetry Month and I’m planning ways to motivate my students to write a poem a day for the 30 days of April!) So, using The Red Wheelbarrow as my mentor text, I played around with thoughts of the blue lifeguard tower. Here’s my attempt:
Blue #19
I keep photographing
a blue lifeguard tower
sprayed with sea mist
watching the sandpipers and surfers dance
©Douillard
As I walked down the beach this afternoon my eye caught the juxtaposition of the massive cliff walls and a small stack of beach pebbles. I found myself thinking about magnitude–the contrast of big and small.
I chatted on the phone earlier today with someone from an organization not directly related to education. She was describing the struggles they have in their organization with clear, concise communication of complicated ideas. The same struggles we are always talking to teachers about…from kindergarten to college. Add the equity piece, the fact that some people have tremendous access and opportunity–often based on financial status and skin color–and the dilemma goes from a stack of small stones to an enormous cliff that crumbles and slips at unexpected moments.
Those cliffs keep me up at night, my efforts dwarfed by their magnitude, overwhelming me with the impossibility of the lift. I find myself drawn to the pebbles. They fit perfectly in my hand as I rub my fingers over their surface, smoothing and soothing as I follow the path nature left before me. I pick one up, adding it my carefully balanced stack, wondering how many I can carry before they topple.
Luckily, I’ve come to the place in my career where I don’t have to decide between the cliffs and the pebbles. I try my best to exert influence where I have the agency to do things that matter…even if they only matter to a few. But my eye remains on the issues of magnitude…maybe if I keep stacking those small stones near the small stones of my colleagues and allies our stacks will grow to solutions of magnitude. Those nightmares that keep me up at night will transform into dreams come true. Maybe this art I found on the beach today is a talisman for the future.
Thinking Through My Lens 