Why teach?

It’s the end of the school year.

Contrary to what people outside of education think, things don’t wind down as the year ends. Instead, they ramp up, and come dangerously close to spiraling out of control. Holding onto the tail of that spinning mass is exciting — and exhausting.

Each night I tell myself I’m going to bed by 9PM, and at 11 PM I’m still awake, working. When I close my computer and my eyes it seems like only minutes until my alarm announces 5AM.

It’s the end of the school year.

I’m tired. I’m sick with a cold. I’m coughing enough to make my head hurt. I have tons of assessments to catalogue, reports to write, forms to fill out, orders to make, and curriculum maps to tweak for next year. My classroom no longer has children in it, but it has lots of stuff in it. Stuff that all needs to be gone through and placed in its proper spot.

That brief rant may make you wonder why I teach.

Sometimes it makes me wonder, too!

Thank goodness, deep down, under the weariness, I know why I teach. Teaching is me. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. It brings me joy.

Even though I know teaching is my thing, still, it’s really nice when someone else notices and points it out to me. Especially in these moments of fatigue and big work it’s super helpful to be reminded I make a difference. I value each and every one of those comments. But, every once in a while, I’m blown away.

This is one of those times.

A few days ago I got this note in my mailbox.

 

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Wow. Just, wow.

This is why I teach. I teach with that hope that I’ll touch hearts, minds, and spirits. I teach so I might spark a passion for learning. I teach so I can show each and every child that they are strong, rich, powerful, and important … foibles and all.

And, I teach because my students do the same for me.

I’m super grateful this 9th grader took the time to write to me.

I helped her see her worth and power. She helped me see mine.

Wow. Just, wow.

 

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No Fretting Shields

Take a look. What do you see? What do you think is going on?

Yes, my students are writing. Yes, they have folders around their work. Nope, I’m not trying to keep my kindergarteners from cheating. I’m trying to keep them from fretting.

They want to be good at everything they do. They have big beautiful brains, and they use them in remarkably wonderful ways. They are constantly learning, discovering, and figuring out. The progress they have made since September — heck the progress they make every day — is fantabulous. None-the-less, they still fret.

I see the doubt, worry, and anxiety well up in their eyes. They don’t say anything out loud, but they stop writing, look at me, look at their paper, look at their friend’s paper erase, rewrite, and look at me again.

I imagine this conversation happening inside their awesome heads.

“Wait, what? Is that how you spell that? You mean I should think that? Is that the strategy I should use? Oh no, maybe I’m not right. Maybe they’re right and I’m wrong. Maybe Miss James will think I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe I really don’t know what I’m doing. Ohhhhh nooooo!”

Phew! I want that internal conversation to stop. I want them to see and know how remarkable they are, how marvelous is their thinking, strategizing, struggling, and even failing. I constantly encourage them to trust themselves. I talk about strategies, and why they were powerful.

It doesn’t help. I mean, of course it helps some. They do try more, and perhaps stress a bit less, but wow, they do still fret.

Finally, I had an aha moment. I broke out the folders.

One of my girlies asked what they were. Another said “They’re so we don’t cheat.” Many eyes turned to look at my face. Almost as though they couldn’t believe I would even suggest they would do something so nefarious.

Before they could say anything I said, “I know a lot of people use these so kids don’t cheat. I’m using them so you don’t fret.” More eyes turned to look at my face. I continued. “You know how to do so many things, and you’re learning more and more every day. You have big beautiful brains, and you know how to use them. But, if you happen to look at a friend’s work and notice it’s different from yours, you fret. Instead of trusting yourself, or being ok not knowing it yet, you fret. And then you erase or change all your amazing work. So, I thought we could try some no fretting folders.”

One of them touched the folder and asked, “No fretting folders?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “No fretting folders. You put them up, and just do your stuff — without fretting about what the people next to you are doing.”

She repeated her question, but now it was a statement. “No fretting folders.” She paused a moment, and then with glowing eyes, and a huge smile, she said. “They’re like shields. They’re no fretting shields, Miss James!”

No fretting shields! Indeed. Perhaps next year we will each have our own personal “no fretting shield.” We can decorate them and keep them in our cubbies. We can decide when we need to use them. I wonder if that would increase the power of the shield. I think it just might.

The Beauty of Imagination

A colleague of mine — who is equally enthralled with imagination, curiosity, wonder, and creativity — shared this article with me. It’s a nice article, with things that made me go “Hmmm…” as well as ideas I definitely want to work with my girls.

My only tsk moment happened when I re-read the article for this post and noticed the subtitle is “Three strategies for helping upper elementary and middle school students develop their mind’s eye.” Perhaps the author thought lower elementary and early childhood children don’t need to have strategies to stir their imaginations. Perhaps she thought her strategies were beyond their young minds.

My experience says nothing could be farther from the truth! (If you’ll allow me to be a bit hyperbolic!) My Kindergarteners enjoy using their imagination, and they benefit from language that values and encourages it, as well as strategies to use it in new ways in their learning and life. So, that said, I hope all grades will give the article a read.

The author of the article, Diana Rivera, studies imagination in the field of psychology. Who even knew you could do that? I think it’s fabulous, but I had no idea! Now that I do, I’m going to be doing a bit more research!

Anyway, I like her suggestions for “stirring students’ imagination.” I will definitely be using her thoughts to enhance my own practice of stirring my students’ imagination. But first, I allowed her ideas to stir my imagination!

I was prepping a read aloud and connected project. I love the Gus Gordon picture picture book — Herman and Rosie. and had decided to use that for my read aloud. I discovered this amazing AUSLAN online reading of the book. If you do nothing else, watch the video, and read along with the book as it shows in the background. It’s really a joy.

I wondered what to do as a project. I’m not one for specific “do this” kind of projects, and everything I thought of left me a little blah. Then I received and read Diana’s article.

Dare I just let the girls use their imagination? Did I trust them, and me, and the process that much? What if it didn’t work out? What if they were disappointed?

I took a breath, or more precisely let out a big sigh, and thought “What’s the worst that can happen?” They may not enjoy my idea. They may not be able to imagine anything they would like to create. I may be disappointed in myself fi I cannot help them imagine, create and have fun. I may have to say, “”It’s an experiment, and sometimes experiments don’t work out as planned — at least not on the first try.”

So with really nothing to lose, and lots to gain, I decided to give it a go!

It was fantabulous!!! At first they seemed a bit perplexed as I explained the project.

Them: “What are we doing for project?”

Me: “We’re going to use our imaginations and think of what we might create that has a connection to Herman and Rosie.”

Them: “But what are we going to make?”

Me: “I don’t know! We have to think about it. Use your imagination. What can you think of in your brain that we could make?”

Them: silence …

Me: “It could be anything. Maybe we want to imagine a place we’d explore and make a map like the one in Herman and Rosie. Maybe we like to sing so we’d make something for singing.”

One of them: “Maybe we can make musical instruments!”

Me: “That is an awesome idea. We can make musical instruments!

Them: “Musical instruments? We can make musical instruments?!”

Me: “Sure. Let’s give it a go.”

It was a beautiful day so we moved outside to our play area. Several girls crowded around the table and set work. As they worked they had to also problem solve how to keep the papers from flying away — it was beautiful because of a rather strong breeze.

The first to make a guitar brought it to me.

Her: “How do I get inside it?”

Me: I was stumped. “Get inside it?”

Her: “Yeah,” she said, as her fingers moved along the string lines she had created, “Inside it. So I can play it.”

Me:”Oh! You want strings?!!”

Her: “YEAH!”

Me: “Wait right there!” I hurried inside to get a pack of rubber bands and some more cutting tools.

We worked together to decide on the number of strings she wanted, and the number of strings that could fit on her guitar. We problem solved — adding popsicle sticks for strength and stability — when the strings caused the guitar to bend in half. Finally we basked in the glow of a mini working guitar.

As she strummed it, she looked at me and said, “Maybe tomorrow I’ll make a guitar pick.”

WOW!!!

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She wasn’t alone in her imagining and creating. Several others created instruments too. Many of them created guitars and my original young guitar inventor was able to act as expert and help them. 

One of the next days as she was dismissing, she popped her head back into the room and asked “Why are so many people making guitars, Miss James?” “I’m not sure, but I think it’s because they really liked your idea, and your guitar.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at me.

I continued, “What do you think? Do you think maybe you inspired them to create guitars?” A smile I will remember forever illuminated her face. She  shyly shrugged, and left the room, aglow, saying “Maybe!”

Perhaps, along with asking myself “What’s the worst that could happen?” I should have also asked “What’s the best that could happen?”

Several remarkably wonderful best things that could happen were shown to me by all my creators — most especially the smiling, glowing girl.

We can imagine things and create them.

We can help each other.

We can inspire one another.

And best of all, we can learn that we are inspiring!

What if?

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I bought this the other day, framed it, and placed it in my classroom. It’s not always this noticeable. There are usually two sweet potato plants, and a pencil sharpener the girls love, next to it. Still, I was a bit surprised no one asked me what it said, or why I put it there. Maybe it was because it was spring break, maybe we were just busy, maybe they thought I’d mention it to them. Who knows.

I’ll be sure to mention it to them when we return. There are so many great What if? questions we can ask ourselves. To name just a few: What if I choose to be kind instead of less than kind? What if I just give it a go? What if I believe I can? What if I let others help me? What if I help others? What if we do it this way? What if I don’t know? What if I do?

Maybe my girls didn’t ask me about it, so that I could ask myself about it. So, until I mention it to them, I’m mentioning it to myself.

What if? 

It’s such an amazingly awesome, and at the same time, frustrating question. Say it to yourself.

What if? 

The awesomeness is the possibilities that are held in that question. The things that might become if we ask What if?

And yet, I think the frustrating part of What if? might be the exact same thing. What if? has the potential to open so many doors, windows, opportunities. But, what shall we ask? What will happen if a door or window opens? What will change? What will be challenged? How will I respond?

What if? is a remarkably powerful question when we are thinking, considering, designing, inventing, and/or creating. It’s a gigantic part of the creative process. “What if we do this? What if we do this instead? Let’s try.” Then it comes back again. “Now, what if???

Lately though I’ve been asking myself What if? in a very different regard. I’ve got to have some tests done to see what is going on with my cancer. What if? rears it’s somewhat ugly head in my mind. What if? What if it’s the cancer? What if I have to do treatment? What if it’s not the cancer? What is it then? What if … What if … What if? 

At some point in my mental conversation I shook my head, and let out a strong, loud breath. It was as if, in some way, I embraced all my what ifs? and let them be, just for a moment. Kind of like in the creative process, you can’t allow yourself to get lost in the what ifs. At some point you have to let out a strong breath, take a look at the situation, the problem, the idea, and the what if? answers. Then you need to choose one, or start a new path.

Unable to choose one of the what ifs I imagined, or feared. I chose a new tack.

What if they find the cancer is more active? That’s ok. They are brilliant. I am brave, and, to quote a friend, a bad ass (cracks me up every time). And perhaps more importantly I am supported by God and all the awesome people I am blessed to have in my life. It will, somehow, be ok.  And, hey, if I have to do treatment, I’ll also have to take time off from work, and while I love my job, that will be nice.

What if I have to change some things in my life? That’s ok, too. Miracles happen. Life is good. Perhaps there is a beautiful surprise right around the corner. Everything is going to be alright.

What if it’s not the cancer? Hallelujah! Now we have more information and will be better prepared if it ever is the cancer. It’s not like I ordered these tests. Those brilliant doctors I mentioned did.

What if I did a bit more breathing, and a bit more listening to the blessings, joy, miracles, and positivity that is all around me? What if I closed my eyes, and allowed myself to be held — by the Saints, angels, God, the Blessed Mother, and the fab people around me? It’s tough to imagine doing that at times, because, let’s review, I am a brave bad ass who really enjoys being in control!

But that, is the beauty of what if? Being able to see, and do, things in a different way.

I’m going to give it a try. What don’t you?

What if? 

 

Breathing and a Kindness Circle

The week before winter break was filled with changes to our classroom schedule. It may not seem like much, but extra rehearsals, making and wrapping gifts for parents, making cards for parents, and adding glitter to the cards, were filling our already full days to overflowing. We were all feeling excitement, joy, anticipation, and let’s be honest, some stress. And, if you’ve ever experienced that, you know, it’s all good, until it’s not.

I had recess duty the last full day of school before break. The lunch duty teachers greeted me with smiles and shaking heads. “Good luck with recess. They are really having a hard time.” I raised an eyebrow and thought “Alrighty, then.”

Out on the playground I carefully watched to see if the time outside would help them regroup. Sometimes they just need time to run around, be free, and get rid of their extra energy. This was not one of those times.

What was I going to do? I heard the voice of a former professor in the back of my mind, “If you’re having classroom management problems, look at yourself, not at your students.” Ok, what was I asking them to do that wasn’t appropriate for them at this time. What was I missing? What could I do to help them?

I had less than 20 minutes to figure this out. I went into creative problem solving beast mode. Have you ever experienced that? For me it means relentlessly pursuing a solution, with the energy and drive of a big, powerful beast — cloaked of course, in the gentle trappings of a kindergarten teacher! I thought laterally, divergently, creatively, critically. Heck, my brain was standing on its head trying to figure it out.

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It was time to ring the bell and return to our classroom. I didn’t have it all figured out, but I did have the beginning of a plan. I took a leap of faith. I rang the bell, and trusted my big, beautiful, creative problem solving brain would continue to work as I moved the girls forward.

I stood — breathing — and calmly waited for them to join me. Then I began to speak in a rather quiet voice. I could see the ones in the back of the line straining to hear me. I paused, and with only the slightest elevation in volume, I asked if they could hear me. Many answers of “No!” filled the air. I responded, “Ok, I’ll speak a bit louder, but you’ll have to listen closely, because I’m not going to yell.” They strained with body and brain to hear every word I said.

“When we go in, we’re all going to take off our coats and get a carpet square. We’re going to be silent when we do this. Once we have a carpet square we’re going to find a spot to lie down and breathe. Find a spot that’s comfortable, where you have some space to just be, and breathe. Are you ready?”

There were some quiet questions which I answered with the least words possible.

Them – “Get a carpet square?” Me – “Yes.”

Them – “We’re going to lie down?” Me – “Yes.”

Them – “We’re going to breathe?” Me – “Yes. Once we’re all set I’ll set a timer for about 3 minutes. Then we’ll come together at the carpet.”

I asked again if they were ready. They quietly responded “You beddy!” (Our call and response to “Are you ready?”)

Once we entered the learning space, I barely spoke above a whisper. I encouraged them to find a space, breathe, relax, and just be. Most of them did it easily. Some needed a bit of help. Still others asked “Can we do this every day?!?”

In those few minutes, while they breathed, I was still in silent beast mode —  thinking, problem solving, and breathing. My inner conversation went something like this. “Yes, the curricular content I have planned is important, but will we actually be able to cover it? Will it be a time of joyful learning, or will it be a time of distracted learning punctuated by my constant call to learn? They need time to breathe. They need time to practice self regulation and pro-social behavior. They weren’t going to do it on their own. I need to help them. I need to give them time, and a structure that allows them to succeed. They need to experience success, and the joy of pro-social behavior.”

By the time I rang the chime, my plan was set.

While they put away their carpet squares and gathered on the carpet, I quickly collected my supplies. I joined the circle and began. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been having a tough time these last couple of days. It’s seems like it’s been a lot harder to listen, and harder to be kind to each other. I don’t think that’s the best way to end our time together before we go on break. I’d love if we could leave each other with a time of peace, love, and kindness. So I thought we’d give a kindness circle a try.”

I’d never done a kindness circle before, nor had I ever heard of one, but it sounded good to me. I took another breath, trusted in the power of my words, my intention, and my students, and continued.

“Each of you will get a name — not your own — and you’ll have 10 minutes to make something nice for them on this card. Do you think 10 minutes is enough time?” They all agreed it was a good amount of time.

I forged ahead, “You can draw something, write something, or even make something. It’s up to you. There are only 2 rules — You must keep your name a secret until we come back to the kindness circle to exchange kindness with one another. And, you have to do your best with whatever you make.”

They liked the rules and waited — with some impatience — for me to give out all the names. With names in hand they set off to work.

As everyone was settling in, I noticed some angst and tears. I popped over to find out what was wrong. The girl who was crying said, “By accident I said the name of her person. I didn’t mean to do it. I want to switch with her so everything is still a secret.” I affirmed her act of kindness in admitting her mistake, being sorry, and  wanting to correct it. They switched names, and all was right in their world.

The 10 minutes zoomed by. I rang the chime again, and they gathered back together on the carpet with quiet excitement. Before we started, I mentioned that both the giver and the receiver of the card were practicing kindness. The giver was kind by working hard for her friend. The receiver was kind by being gracious. “Perhaps it’s not what you hoped to get. Or maybe you can’t read what they wrote. That’s not what really matters. What matters is that they worked hard to make something nice for you.”

It worked out better than I imagined.  Each exchange was lovely. Givers and receivers were kind and gracious. They practiced beautiful pro-social behavior. They looked each other in the eye. The givers said a little bit about what they made and why. The receivers accepted the gift, gave it a look, commented that it was very nice, and said thank you.

I sat back, took another big breath, and basked in the glow of our kindness circle. My inner conversation was calm, satisfied, and affirming. Taking a risk; pursuing a creative solution like a beast; trusting myself and my girls; taking time to breathe; giving the space and opportunity to be kind, is fantabulous! I gotta find a way to include these super powerful happenings more regularly in our days together.

Beast mode has been called off, but rest assured, the thinking continues. A solution will present itself in due time.

 

 

Borrowed Creativity

I found some fabulous origami paper at a local bookstore. I had no need for it, and didn’t have any origami plans. But, after picking it up and putting it down several times, I bought it.  I decided I didn’t need plans. It was enough that I liked it. If I actually folded the paper into origami, it’d be a bonus!

A few days later the allure of origami folding became too strong to ignore. It was time to collect my bonus. Without a second thought, I borrowed the creativity of others. If you’d like to join me in borrowing some origami folding creativity, check out these links for an open box, a vase, and a cube and octahedron made from sonobe units.

I’m always intrigued and amazed by the way a flat sheet of paper transforms into a three dimensional object through a series of folding and unfolding.

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My origami folding was a creative exploration, a fact finding mission, and a problem solving journey. Through it all there was intense focus, several missteps, flow, and joy. It was awesome.

I’ve often wondered what it is about making that jazzes my kindergartners so much.  This evening of origami folding gave me an inkling of an answer. What I experienced felt like what I see in my Kindergartners when they borrow my creativity in the makerspace.

My Kindergartners love making things. They enjoy working on their own as they follow their own paths. But, they are differently stoked when they borrow my creativity.  I think they experience what I did as I folded.

With borrowed creativity we are able to go places we can’t go on our own. My Kindergarteners and I aren’t lacking in ability or creativity. Instead, we are as yet unaware of this particular path and destination. By sharing and borrowing creativity we find new possibilities, new paths, and new destinations.

These new experiences are ours because others are willing to share their creativity, and allow us to borrow it.  This freely shared creativity is a gift, and I think, a sign of friendship and collegiality. By sharing and borrowing, we are — in one sense — made equals.

I am grateful for the generous creative beings who are willing to share their ideas with me. The new vistas, processes, and products, as well as  new experiences of myself are quite fantabulous. I think my kindergarteners feel the same way.

Long live generous creative sharers, and grateful creative borrowers!

 

 

Simple things

Simple things can be taken for granted and overlooked, or they can induce wonder and awe.

I recently purchased a manual crank pencil sharpener for my learning space. My girls like every aspect of this simple machine. They enjoy manipulating the lever that secures it to our table. They carefully spin the ring of holes to find the perfect fit for their pencil. They work together to help others sharpen their pencil successfully.

It sometimes takes a bit longer to use than an electric sharpener, but the time is time well spent. As they work and struggle to sharpen their pencils, they practice grit, perseverance, curiosity, and kind helpfulness. They strengthen the muscles of their hands and fingers. And, remarkably, they experience wonder and awe!

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The other day, one of them was chatting with me about the sharpener. I don’t recall our exact conversation, but at one point I took the sharpener apart. Perhaps I wanted to show her the insides, perhaps I was just emptying the shavings.

I was unprepared for her response. When the sharpening gears were exposed, she gasped. Her eyes were wider than I’ve ever seen before. She gently grasped the handle — as though she might destroy the wonder, or damage the machine. As she turned the crank, the gears rotated. She was glued to the movement and with hushed excitement said “Wow!”

 

20181025_092203-01I asked if she wanted to try sharpening her pencil. She said yes and began to work on replacing the cover. I encouraged her to sharpen it without the cover so she could observe what happened. Her astonishment and joy were palpable as she sharpened the pencil, adding to the small pile of shavings at the base of the sharpener.

 

I feel similar things when I use a standard wedge sharpener. I love watching the wood and paint sliced off of the pencil — with incredible precision. I like the crisp sharp point, and I marvel at the beautiful shapes of the sharpening scraps.

20181106_104023-01 Simple things. Big feelings. Important experiences.

I want to be mindful of these moments. Mindful in noticing them. Mindful in helping facilitate and provoke them. Mindful in finding small moments, and large blocks, in which we can play with simple things. Mindful about protecting and nurturing the wonder and awe of the simple things.

I think I will begin saving the sharpening scraps in our makerspace trolley. I’m hopeful they will intrigue and inspire my makers.

At the very least, they will bring me joy, and that’s a good thing.

Time will tell.

 

 

It’s All in How You Look at It!

I read to my Kindergartners everyday at lunch. It’s always an adventure in listening, laughing, noticing, discussing, wondering, and, frankly, making proclamations.

Yesterday one of the reads was Happy Dog Sizzles by Lisa Grubb. Part way through the story, the characters begin creating. Lisa used the term “junk” to describe the things used by her characters. She did not misspeak. In many ways, the items being used could be characterized as junk — a broken instrument, a broken lamp, an old hat.

As I read the word junk, one of my girls proclaimed, “That’s not junk!”

Me: “It’s not?!?!

Her: “No!” she replied emphatically. “That’s maker-stuff!”

Her voice seemed to call more of her peers to the page. All about the room there were echoes of agreement. “Yeah, that’s not junk. That’s maker-stuff!”

Me: (heart glowing with love and pride in their fantabulousness) “You know what? You’re right! It is maker-stuff!”

I read the rest of the book substituting maker-stuff for junk.

My Kindergartners are right. It’s all about how we look at it.

As I considered a photo for this post, I gathered up some things forgotten in the back of drawers, or placed in the trash/recycling bin — contact lens containers, a pebble from a walk, a bottle top, the inside roll from tape, an old marker lid, part of a security envelope, the top of a canning jar, a bent paperclip, and an old hair tie.

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With my Kindergartners words and emotions fresh in my mind, I interacted with these items, not as junk, but as items with untold potential.

I purposefully staged the photo. I considered each piece, and placed it carefully on a gold-lined dish. I created pleasant ribbon swirls. I arranged and rearranged the items several times until I was satisfied. Then I photographed and processed the image to emphasize the feeling of importance, beauty, and art.

My kindergartners were right. In our awesome hands — animated by our big beautiful brains, fantabulous imagination, and spectacular hearts — it’s not junk, it’s maker-stuff.

 

 

Fatigue, Eyeballs, and Flowers

I was home sick yesterday. It’s Saturday today, and I’m still home sick. Actually, it’s not so much sickness, as remarkably strong fatigue. Ever since my diagnosis and treatment, I have some days that I can do nothing other than sleep, or lie in a heap on the couch with a delicious cup of green tea before going back to bed to sleep! The fatigue is crazy-powerful. It makes me feel ill in many different ways. It’s annoying, but what can I do? Press on with relentless positivity, some kvetching, and of course some creativity!

Today’s a bit better, but yesterday even creative thinking, and artistic work, had me climbing back into bed. But as someone said “Earth without art is just eh. Go.make.art!” Or as I say, “Life without creativity and art is missing some serious joy!” So fatigue or not, art and creativity here I come!

I’m trying to figure out a design for a bathroom cabinet. I know it will contain the word LOVE in arts and crafts style lettering, as well as some as yet unknown number of arts and crafts style flowers. I thought about the project for a few days, and then began sketching the flowers. I’ve done them before but these will be mirror images of the ones I’ve done in the past. Sounds simple right? Yeah, not so much.

Yesterday I grabbed my grid paper and began sketching a plethora of flowers. Some of them looked a lot more like eyeballs than flowers! Eyeballs! That just won’t do! It cracks me up and frustrates me all at the same time. So I sketch on, immersed in my creative and artistic process.

  • Math — the shapes, the number of grid lines I’m using to create each flower, where the various shapes lie in relationship to the middle of the whole flower.
  • Freedom to make the shapes flow and a bit askew instead of mathematically perfect.
  • Deep observing — of the flower, the shapes, the sweep of the lines, the areas that are outside my original space.
  • The beauty of my pencil — how it feels in my hand, and how wonderfully it skims across the paper leaving my mark with great ease.
  • The process itself — think, try, think some more, look at it a lot, go away, come back, look at it again, rearrange, repeat.
  • And, finally there is me, my breath, my brain, my heart, and the joy and contentment I feel as I create, learn, make mistakes, try again, and eventually succeed.

This is my work from yesterday. Overcome at one point with how much they all really did look like eyeballs I pulled out my watercolors and brush, hopeful the color would help me see flowers. If nothing else I figured the watercolor would bring me joy.

Thankfully the watercolor worked wonders. The eyeballs transformed into  proper-looking flowers, and I transformed into a little less frustrated, little more happy and content me.20181005_140102-01

I want to share this process more and more with my students — in all areas of the curriculum. I want them to experience all I just experienced.

I’m sure I’ve said this before, and each time I have this revelation anew, I try to be mindful of my teaching practice and classroom management. Do I gift my students with time to process, think, create, observe, learn, fail, try again, rethink, and change their minds? Am I transparent sharing my own process with them? Do they know how many times my flowers look like eyeballs?

I try, that’s for sure. But, there is something really intrinsic to my process, that I am not convinced I provide for my students. Is it time to think? Time to be with one problem or project? Time to observe and learn about things on their own?

I don’t know. But, for sure there is something about being in the moment, something about the immersion, the peace, the struggle, and the whole process that I must continue to reflect upon, and bring to my students.

The Joy and Power of Making

The girls and I worked on making banners this past week. We each worked on our own creation, sharing space, materials, tools, and energy.

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It was a choice based activity — join me for the project if you like, don’t join me if something else brings you more joy. The choices continued as we worked on the project.

  • What color shall I use?
  • Do I want one hole or two in each triangle? Will they be right-side-up or up-side-down?
  • Which yarn will I use?
  • Do I want to use washi tape? What color? How much? Where?
  • Will I decorate them? Add words? Images? What will I use for that?
  • How many triangular shapes do I need for my banner?

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A friend gave me three plastic mason jars of washi tape for my birthday. She hoped my girls and I would create something beautiful together. I shared the tape and information with my girls. I told them my friend was curious and excited to see our process and final product. They seemed energized by the information and my sharing of my gift with them.

The makerspace was blazing with creativity, bravery (trying all sorts of things), negotiation (Can I borrow your scissors? Can someone start this washi tape for me? I want that tape too, can we share?), imagination, collaboration, (I can do that! Do you want me to help you?), thinking, sharing of ideas, physical work, laughter, and joy!

At one point, one of the girls brought me her tray and banner.

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“Nice. Did you just want to show it to me?” I asked.

“Would you string it for me?” she asked.

“I can.” I replied. “What are you going to do?”

 

“I’m going to invent another project! Can I do that? Invent another project!”

Invent another project?! How fantabulous is that?!?!!! I made a split second decision to lend her my hands to string her banner, so that she could use her hands to do something more important.

I responded with a big smile, and a good deal of enthusiasm. “ABSOLUTELY!”

She responded with a small smile. Her eyes locked with mine for just a second. Then she moved off to begin her invention.

I love that the gift of washi tape to me, and then to my girls, combined with freedom and joy produced such beauty! Beautiful banners. Awesome experiences. Desire and empowerment to invent new projects!

YAY!