Tag Archives: summer institute

What Would You Hold?

During our first Make Cycle of the SDAWP Invitational Summer Institute, we are each answering the question, “What would you hold?” The make requires that we represent the answer to that questions with a photo of something precious held in our hands.

After too much thought and second guessing, here is my photo.

I’m sure that a photo of me holding my camera isn’t surprising to many of you. But I want to press beyond the camera as a tool to make pretty pictures. It isn’t the camera itself that is precious. In fact, sometimes it isn’t even my camera that I use for photography…sometimes my phone works just as well (or even better). But the camera represents a practice that I value. Taking photos encourages me to slow down, to pay attention, to notice the value and beauty in the ordinary…and it gets me writing.

I try to get out with my camera every day: walking, breathing deeply, letting my thoughts roam. With my feet moving and under the influence of fresh air, I can let my worries float away and use my senses to tune into the world outside of my head. I seldom take photos of people, instead I try to capture moments that capture my attention. (The exception would be the many photos I take of my grandsons–none of which I post on social media to protect their privacy.) I often find that the photos I take become metaphors to express ideas I am thinking about.

With my camera I get low, checking out the vantage from the bug’s perspective. I find myself thinking about times when teaching and mothering and living feels like pushing the world up a very steep hill. Images of mythology fill my head and the strains and stresses of the day unkink, letting those tight muscles that run across my shoulders begin to relax.

Out on the playground with my students I get to bring my passions to my students. Photography also helps my students look in new ways, and like it does for me, that looking generates ideas and language for writing. This photo was an example of looking for natural frames for photos–a composition technique I wanted my students to explore.

With camera in hand, I learn…and sometimes I mourn. Regular walks on the beach bring the realities of environmental damage front and center. I see the daily human impact, the excesses of our disposable lifestyle, and get up close and personal with death and destruction. I am forced to pay attention to the lessons nature is teaching and encouraged to learn more as I walk with the rhythms of the tides and the seasons, appreciating the beauty and noticing the destruction.

And I see the power of small children making a difference. Little efforts, like teaching students to compost their leftovers from lunch will help them make the world a better place. (My students thought this photo was gross–but when I explained what it represented to me, they found it more interesting.)

My camera also lets me celebrate life’s pleasures and express my gratitude. My husband is an amazing cook and nurturer. Some days result in food that doubles as works of art!

Mostly, though my camera helps me make space in my life. Space for observation, space for an exploration of the senses, space for listening and learning, and space for making and creativity. It gets me outside and keeps me moving. It helps me connect with others–in person and online. It reminds me to play, to take action, and to appreciate all that life has to offer.

Making Writers

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Sometimes writing feels like standing all alone in the fog–shivering in the damp–uncomfortable and vulnerable, waiting for the worst.

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But it doesn’t have to be that way.

Writers write best in a supportive community, in a place where attempts are celebrated and seeds are planted–some intentionally and carefully like those meticulously cultivated gardens and some flung far and wide like dandelion seeds floating in the wind.

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And writers also need to play and break the rules, find their own voice in the cacophony of others. Occasionally they need a nudge to take those carefully stacked plates and push them over, flinging the words here and there, then gathering them again to make meaning of the shards of ideas uncovered in the process.

Sometimes writers need to lean in close, breathe in the sweet scent of what it means to create new life as ideas emerge from words rubbed together.

At other times, writers need to step back and take in the long view. What new understandings reveal themselves when you look from the heights, from places you hadn’t dare stand before? Writing can be a process of discovery, exploring new territory or old territory from new perspectives.

Writers need inspiration, sparks that send them on wild chases and deep digs. And to be inspired, writers must open themselves–listen carefully, look widely, pay attention to the mundane, and seek out the ordinary. Nothing is too lowly to inspire words and ideas. Consider even the cat, asleep, with its head in a box.

But mostly, writers need to trust that they have something to say–to themselves, to their neighbors, to readers and other writers. They have to trust that words matter, thoughts matter, and the world matters. They must want to write, and need to writer, but most of all, they actually have to do that thing that so many resist, and WRITE!

If you want to make a writer.

***Note: This piece was inspired by the article Hey Matt by Molly Toussant where she writes about her beliefs about teaching writing. This piece was created as a “found photo essay” inspired by a peek at my media library as a way to think about writing and writing instruction.

More than a Game

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Today we played Monopoly. We played in our Summer Institute…a leadership development program for teachers of writing. And as you might imagine, this play had more than one purpose!

There is something wonderful about giving a group of dedicated educators a Monopoly box and asking them to play a game during an intensive professional development experience. In our 4th day of a four week institute, we have already begun to bond, building trust and opening up, willing to be vulnerable even when faced with difficult topics and challenging situations.

The group seemed almost giddy about the thought of playing…even though based on the previous three and a half days, they knew this was not simply a board game break. They started by forming groups of five or six and then selecting a writing utensil from a plate on their table. A colored pencil, a smelly marker, a highlighter, an SDAWP pencil, and either one or two Crayola markers were mystery icons of the game to come. After spending time as a group reviewing the written rules of the game and setting up to begin, the significance of the choice of the writing utensil became apparent.

Those holding the Crayola markers were asked to begin playing…the others at the table were only allowed to watch. In my role as observer I got watch as some started to play with trepidation while others raced forward with delight…”Hurry, let’s get what we can while we can!” After the first player or players had played for five or ten minutes, the second group of players were invited in. At indeterminate intervals and not knowing which category would be called next, the players who waited and watched seemed to withdraw and lose interest in the game.

This version of Monopoly, which immerses players in an experience where everyone plays by the same rules…but the game is still not fair, is adapted from an article by Jost and Jost. Our goal is to get our participants to think about equity beyond what is experienced by individuals and consider the systemic influences of poverty and racism.

As the game continued we saw our participants behave in some interesting ways. Those that entered the game early seemed to play either with zeal…or with the weight of guilt on their shoulders. They frequently assumed the role of helper…often moving the pieces for their late starting peers or even acting with seeming generosity, offering “get out of jail free” cards or waiving some small rents due to them. The late starters either become apathetic about the game or downright devious…sneaking money from the bank or even wishing to land in jail so they wouldn’t have to pay fees that they saw coming as their money dwindled with each turn.

We saw early players become rule sticklers…at one point carefully explaining the rules to a late starter.

When time was called on the game, players were asked to take note of the results and then sent off to reflect on their experience. What did they notice about themselves, their peers, the experience? What implications does this experience have for them as educators, parents, human beings?

Our discussion was rich and layered…and sometimes downright contentious. This experience opened up space for talking about systems: economic, social, educational…and the differences in access and equity that are often dismissed or not considered with our more typical focus on individuals. And we’re not finished with these discussions…because although there are some who might ask, “What does equity have to do with the teaching of writing?”, we know that equity plays a crucial role in who has access to high quality teaching and learning…and who can see themselves as successful learners. This game “hack” is just a beginning for us…we have much more in store in our next three weeks!