Tag Archives: poem

Exploring Acorns: A #writeout Adventure

When life gives you acorns…make art and poetry!

Most weeks I work with my friend and colleague Carol over Zoom since we live in different parts of the state. So when we got to meet in person a few weeks ago, I was delighted to be gifted with a bag of acorns to explore with my students. The acorns where Carol lives are huge…and they have the caps that look like knitted beanies.

So, in honor of #writeout, a collaboration between the National Writing Project and the National Park Service, we got out the acorns and the hand lenses AND our sketchbooks to really study them carefully. We also read two wonderful picture books: Because of an Acorn by Lola Schaefer–a book about the interdependence of the ecosystem where acorns thrive–and Acorn Was a Little Wild by Jen Arena–a fanciful book about an adventurous acorn who after an encounter with a hungry squirrel preparing for winter, ended up as an adventurous oak tree.

And…we had to watch the wonderful video with Ranger McKenzie from Sequoia National Park about how oak trees drop tremendous numbers of acorns every few years…all at the same time in a process called masting, and that scientists have figured out that trees “talk” to each other through their root systems.

All this science and nature provided the perfect foundation for an art project inspired by Andy Warhol and the Pop Art movement. Today the first graders in my classroom used scissors, construction paper, oil pastels…and wait for it…white glue to create the most adorable acorn art. Scissor work can be challenging for young learners, and to add to the scissor demand I didn’t provide a template. Instead I showed them how to trim the square of paper into the shape of the acorn nut…and another square of paper into the shape of an acorn cap. A few students expressed frustration, but with some encouragement and insistence that they keep trying, all students were able to cut out acorns and their caps independently.

We added some whimsical texture with oil pastels…and then the most challenging part, they had to use white glue to attach their acorn pieces to the background we had assembled. Trust me, white glue can be downright scary in the hands of young artists! But with admonitions to use the glue sparingly, we were successful!

Of course we had to do some writing. Poetry seemed in order–after all this year’s #writeout theme is Poetry for the Planet and I was wanting to keep it short…so we attempted a first grade version of Haiku–a three line poem (without worrying about the syllable count). Here are a few first grade attempts.

J wrote:

Acorns are hard

cozy as fall nears

Spiny as a hedgehog

O wrote:

Don’t fall yet.

Squirrels will get you.

Crunch!

And R wrote:

Acorns look like a balloon that got blown by a man.

Acorns look like a man with a helmet riding a bike to the store.

Acorns look like a top that someone is spinning on the table.

#Writeout we’re off and running! We’d love to know how all of you are celebrating nature and the outdoors in your classrooms and in your lives!

Friday Fun: NPM24 Day 5

Have you ever written a sevenling? Me either. Leilya’s prompt over at #verselove suggested we write about a Friday date night–and try on a short form. Sevenling was a suggested form, and one I was unfamiliar with. And Friday date night turned into Friday road trip…in the form of a sevenling.

On the road (again)

In the car we sit, miles accumulating like snowdrifts

Mind numbing, body cramping, time freezing

Traffic and Google navigation mishaps punctuated with alltheswearwords

We burst into song, another oldie even I know the lyrics to

Seeking attractions from concrete dinosaurs to indie bookstores

Adventures found in unexpected places

In the hate/love struggle of roadtrips, when I’m with you love always wins

World’s largest flip flop, Rainbow sandal store, San Clemente, CA

SOLC Day 22: Taking Time

Taking Time

She breathes in

The daily brine

Ionic medicinal

Clearing the mind

Walks at a brisk clip

Quieting

Relentless wrist taps

To close the fitness rings

Is there time to linger

To look closely

At the spiral of shell

Notice its glossy curves?

Slow down to watch

The dragon lifts

On the elevator of wind currents

Overseeing the shoreline

Pause, look, listen, watch

Don’t congregate

Breathe in, pay attention

Make ever moment and every ion count

®Douillard

Stars Emerge

Writing is hard.  Teaching writing is harder. And every once in a while the effort of teaching writing and supporting and inspiring writers comes together in ways that make your heart sing and tears flow.

I had one of those moments yesterday.

The first, second, and third grade bloggers were hard at work in our classroom.  The room was filled with the productive hum of writers at work.  I moved around the room, helping with inserting youtube links to the digital stories we had created, troubleshooting technical issues, and helping those emerging writers get their ideas pinned to the digital page.

One of my students called me over, asking for help with a formatting issue.  And that’s when I noticed the poem.  “Where is the poem from?” I wondered.  “I wrote it,” he replied.  “Will you read it to me?” I asked.  And he did.

Stars

A poem

Two stars diverge sending each other down to earth like eagles mating, gripping each other so hard that before they descend and hit the ground they turn into dust. As all the stars shine and shimmer with a shine so big it blinds eyes.

The portal of time, a hole, may it be a dimension to another world? Might it have different forms of life? Or does it hold the keys to the past as you turn the engine?

May it be a beach of darkness or is it truly where your body is when you pass away.

Still a star inside, you shine, a star big enough to fill this sad place with colors and light up the world.

Are all the stars just a puzzle or are they illusions that move and move as you play the game, the game of life?

I have loved watching this writer go from a reluctant and troubled writer to a creative, confident, and willing writer over the three years in our class.  Writers don’t follow easy, uncluttered pathways, instead, like stars and diamonds they emerge from from pressure and heat and time and the tumultuous intricacies of the universe.  I am so lucky to spend three years with my students, it often takes that long for writers to emerge–finding both confidence and voice as writing instruction, practice, and a supportive writing community come together over time.

I’m still thinking about Brit’s poem…great writing does that.  It ignites a fire in the reader, kindled by the writer.  It’s burning bright and hot.

photo-102

You might want to stop by Brit’s blog and leave a comment.  I know I will.