I committed to a 100-day creativity challenge. For 100 days, I will craft one haiku, paint a small watercolor, and then write the haiku on the painting.
I’m a bit behind on the painting as I needed to wait for the paper to arrive before I could begin. However, I am on target with the haiku. So far, 20 haikus grace my notes. It’s amazing to think I’m one-fifth of the way through the challenge. I love that at the end, I will have 100 pieces of art. They are the perfect size for this type of a challenge – one quarter of a sheet of 9×12 water color paper.
I’ve finished 3 cards – painted, written, and waxed.
I love them. They are an easy way to have more creativity, writing, and art in my life.
And, they are a way to challenge, and hopefully quiet, my inner critic, who sometimes seeks perfection rather than process, beauty, goodness, and learning.
For instance, look at the 9.7.26. First I didn’t like the watercolor shapes, so I added the gold lines, and voila, I liked it. Then I added words, and didn’t space out the first two lines of the haiku poem. Ugh. So I looked, wondered, and thought about possibilities. Turns out I’m unsure there is a better placement. I would like the yellow block to the right to have the first line. But then the first and second line are in yellow blocks, while the final one is not. So perhaps what I did is ideal? I don’t know. One thing I do know is, in the future, I might want to lay it out a few times in my mind before writing.
I’m so happy it’s Friday! Fingers are crossed for many opportunities to watercolor over the weekend.
Meanwhile, I will continue to write. It’s been a blessing to write each day – both for the moment of thinking and creativity, and for the opportunity to reread my thoughts from days past. For various reasons, I was thinking I might have many cranky or negative poems. Sometimes life is tough and it can come out in my writing. Frankly, I was worried my relentless positivity was a thing of the past. Imagine my delight when I read the poems and discovered most were positive. Some had two stanzas — one of complaint or less than hopefulness, and then the second encouraging hope, or pointing out previously unseen truths. So, I write, read, and paint on, and I am grateful.
Some of the power skills mentioned in the articles are:
courage tenacity optimism curiosity creativity empathy flexibility collaboration and teamwork effective communication problem-solving critical thinking innovation the ability to gain and use data info listening trust
Josh suggests the rebrand as power skills is appropriate because “in reality, they are the skills that give you real ‘power’ at work.” I would add that the same is true for teachers and students who use them in the classroom.
Give the list another look. Can you see them as habits and positions of power and learning? How so? Look for them in the classroom. Who’s using the skills? When are they using them? How are they using them? When you notice them, look more deeply. What do you notice? What do you think? What do you wonder?
Here are some of my thoughts.
The choice to be courageous helps us be brave, try new things, share ideas, and listen.
Tenacity and optimism help us stick to a task and believe it is indeed true that “I can do hard things every single day.”
Curiosity drives us to explore what we do not yet know, to be motivated by wonder and awe, and to approach things from unique perspectives. It requires flexibility and increases joy.
Empathy encourages us to listen, to give grace, to allow others (and ourselves) to try, use their big beautiful brains, fail, learn, and succeed. Empathy helps us understand more deeply.
Communication is essential for sharing ideas, collaborating, and working together as a team. All these things enhance our abilities to problem-solve, think critically, and innovate.
With this in mind, I want to highlight and modify, including teachers and students (both leaders in our learning journey), what Ruth wrote in her HBR article. When teachers and students use their power skills, everyone feels trusted, motivated, and included, and learning is supported and enhanced.
Here are some times my pre-K-ers and I used power skills to make our math moments fascinating, fun, and filled with deep mathematical thinking. What power skills do you notice? How is it impacting the learners and learning?
One of the mighty mathematicians was enamored of her sibling’s ability to do multiplication. She told me about the math she experienced and said she wanted to do it, too. We talked about multiplication. I told her multiplication is kind of like adding groups. For instance, 3×3 tells you that you have three groups of 3. We used our fingers to figure out how many things are in 3 groups of three.
She wanted to do more, so we grabbed some pegs and represented the abstract concept of multiplication thinking and work in a very concrete way — on the pegboard. Another mighty mathematician asked if she could play, too. They talked, counted and created and solved multiplication problems together.
These mathematicians explored and translated dominos from the pips on each side of the domino to a ten frame.
They kept their dominoes secret from one another and guessed what they looked like from the information on the 10 frames. They enjoyed the secrecy and the mathematical conversations. Often their ideas required further communication. For instance, is it a 10-frame if it doesn’t have 10 pegs in it? What makes you say that? One mathematician created a 1-frame and a 4-frame to share with her fellow mathematicians.
The mathematicians wondered and speculated what to do when their domino had more than 10 dots in all, or had more than 5 dots on either side. Would it be ok to add it to the second row of the 10-frame? Could they just let it sit outside their 10-frame? Lots of experimentation and conversation ensued.
Finally, they worked independently to figure out how many there were in all. They shared their answers and their thinking, celebrated if they both got the same (and accurate) answer, and discussed if their answers were not the same. Often, they used different strategies to calculate the total, and as they shared their strategies, they discovered even more ways to solve the problem.
As we cleaned up for lunch, several mathematicians inquired, “When are we doing that again, Ms. James? … Yeah, when are we doing that again?”
If you’re reading along with my posts, you know my recent life has been filled with caring for my dad. The stress and angst of his injury, complications, and days and nights in the hospital were pushing me to the edge. Then, my oncologist – after seeing my recent bloodwork – said, “You have got to take better care of yourself!” I nearly fell over the edge.
What’s a girl to do when she’s at the edge? Well if you’re me, you paint, write, or paint and write. I love playing with paint and words. I’m often surprised or stumped, and go through moments of deep thought and wondering, mess ups and revelations. Somehow the process brings me to a space of flow, peace, and joy.
Thinking about my process and experience, I did a bit of research to see what experts say about art assuaging angst, and aiding in health and wellbeing.
The arts also can be beneficial to your physical and mental health when you experience them — as an appreciator or creator. The American Congress of Rehabilitation Medicine says making or even just seeing art can impact the brain. Whether it’s part of a creative arts therapy exercise, or something you experience in your everyday life, art can help: *Imagine a more hopeful future. *Increase serotonin levels. *Increase blood flow to the part of the brain associated with pleasure. *Foster new ways of thinking.
Engagement with creative activities has the potential to contribute toward reducing stress and depression and can serve as a vehicle for alleviating the burden of chronic disease.
So, as I am want to do when it’s time to create, I pushed aside the many things that were in my way (in life and on my kitchen table). I surrounded myself in that small cleared space with acrylic paint, paper, an acrylic wedge, old hotel door cards (the poor woman’s answer to pallet knives), artist tape, and some hopeful enthusiasm and curiosity.
First I just sat in that tiny creative haven breathing, looking, thinking, and being. I was reminded of the invitation from our school’s art gallery curator to be part of our faculty and staff art show. In the midst of everything, the provocation of new art had sat forgotten in the back of my mind. Now, it came into my conscious mind as a beautiful opportunity.
Wonder joined my breath, looking, thinking and being. What might I do that would bring me joy, peace, and healing? Is it possible to do that, and create something I’d like to submit for the show? I decided to play and see what happened.
First I mindfully taped the edges of the paper. Then I added the paint.
At first it didn’t work as I hoped. I tried a few times to bend the paint and process to my will. Finally, I surrendered to the process and paint. Instead of trying to control it, I bent to its will, or, at the very least, cooperated with it. I began to see what was possible and beautiful, rather than what didn’t work. I switched to a more monochromatic palette and the results of my change in thought and color were surprisingly beautiful and satisfying. The things that had been so frustrating became the elements I most enjoyed.
Sitting with my paintings I knew I had to add words. Haiku is a form of poetry that soothes me and brings me beautiful, quiet joy. Something about the process of forming my thoughts, and then forming those thoughts into 5-7-5 lines, changing words to match the beats, and finding unexpected inspiration in the new words, brings me into an almost parallel world of stillness. Many words flow out of me onto an old envelope. I gather them up and the haiku begins to take shape. Then, as is my usual experience, I am unable to find the right sound and feeling. I struggle on for a bit. Then I rest my head in my hands, close my eyes, breathe, and wait with peaceful expectation. As I wait, my breath deepens, my headache eases, my angst lessens, and the words appear.
Waves Energy transferred As waves crash on sand or soul All they touch transform
Flowers Gregariously Flowers burst out with brilliance In color and scent
Relationships are powerful and essential components of learning.
I’m not the only one who knows this is true. Many educators — from Vgotsky, to Frances and David Hawkins, Harvard Graduate School of Education, and Reggio Emilia (and RE inspired educators) — speak of the importance of relationships for learning, understanding, creating, and thinking.
Inspired by Reggio Emilia I value relationships between parent, teacher, learner, and the environment. – and do my best to cultivate them. And, not just my relationship with each of them, but their relationships with each other. Through these connections, learners develop relationships with:materials, thoughts and ideas – their own and others, themselves, play, other learners, and the importance and value of struggle.
I’m always reminded of relationships as the school year ends and my summer begins. My relationship with time, energy, rest, exploration, play, creativity and my own physicality are blessed with opportunity and possibility. And of course, my relationships with my current learners and parents transition and change.
I never cease to be amazed (and edified) as I experience the power, essentiality, and inspiration of these relationships from learners new and old. I never take for granted the gift it is to bump into a former student, or receive a note in my mailbox. Here are a few that touched and reminded me of the power of these relationships.
An 11th grader saw me moving things around in the classroom. It’s a normal part of my end of year routine — but not a normal one for her.
11th grader: “What are you doing, Miss James?” Me: “I’m moving some of my things out of the classroom.”
A look of confusion, then shock and horror, crossed her face. She asked a string of questions in rapid fire: “Are you leaving, Miss James? You’re not leaving are you? You can’t leave! What will the Kindergartners do? What would we do? You can’t leave!”
I took a breath, as I looked into those loving and panicked eyes of hers, and said, “Nope. I’m not leaving. Just moving some of my things.”
She looked at me as though trying to decide if I had told her the truth. Then she took a breath and said, “Oh, good. We need you.”
Then a 7th grader left me an amazing letter in my mailbox telling me about how I — and the way I teach Kindergarten — has continued to impact her life and learning. “Even though it’s been a while since Kindergarten, I still remember how your creativity, kindness, and positive energy made learning so much fun. You helped build the foundation that inspired me to grow, explore and believe in my myself. I’ll always be grateful for the start you gave me.”
And then there’s my sweet Kindergartners. One mom emailed me to share her daughter had been asking when she might have a playdate with me! And then, I a letter in the mail from another KJer proclaimed “Miss James. I love you. I loved being in KJ. Thank you for a great year. You are the best teacher.”
I know they don’t have a lot to go on when they proclaim me the best teacher. I understand it means they have experienced goodness, kindness, and acceptance in me. It means they have experienced and know that I am their (to quote Rita Pierson’s TED talk) “champion, an adult who will never give up on them, who understands the power of connection, and insists that they become the best that they can possibly be.”
Never underestimate the power of love, joy, relationships, understanding, acceptance, and dogged determination that we should all be the best we can be.
And (if you’ve read my previous post) never be afraid to share the joy of your art — cause we are all artists — with others. The crane’s flying soon!
Some of my favorite things are notes from my Kindergartners. Often they are notes of love, at other times, they are notes requesting I do something for them.
This one was delivered after winter break. She told me her grandmother taught her to crochet over break.
Me: “Wow! That’s amazing. Was it fun?”
Her: “Yeah! Can I show you?”
Me: “Absolutely!”
Her: “Do you have a crochet needle?”
Me: “I do. But not here. I have some at home.”
Her: “Can you bring it in?”
Me; “Sure! Would you write me a note to remind me?”
Her: “A note? (pause) Yeah, I can write one.”
A few minutes later she returned with this note.
How absolutely amazing is this?! Yes, there are some reversals, but look at all the fantabulousness.
My name is spelled correctly.
Please has the correct vowel team! This means she talked with a friend who knew about vowel teams and they worked together.
Crow shay. That has to be my favorite spelling. It’s not conventional, but it tells me all I need to know.
And, perhaps most importantly, she has — with her own beautiful brain, and amazing hand — used writing for her own purpose. She wants a crochet hook, and she knows this will get her one.
I brought in two crochet hooks the next day. She, and others, have been using then happily ever since.
The other day two of my Kindergarten artists were moving excitedly to a new spot in our learning space — paint brushes in hand. Paint brushes that were dripping with lovely purple watercolor paint.
Me: “Careful with the paint brushes. Maybe you can leave the here while you go there.”
Them: “Ok.”
They didn’t drop them off with me. Instead, a few moments later, as I wondered where they and their paint filled brushes were, I heard squeals of delight as the two of them hurried back to me.
Them: “POCKETS! Miss James, we have POCKETS!”
Me: (laughing out loud) “Indeed you do. What a great way to use them!”
Little things. Are there really any little things? Or is it simply the way we look at them.
Pockets — when I don’t need them or notice them — become small insignificant things. But when noticed, found, needed, and used, they become wonderous things to celebrate.
I’ve been wanting to bring more joy, positivity and hope into my life these days. I think this is an answer — notice and celebrate the little things.
Oh! How fantabulous is this?!?! I’ve also been looking for ways to encourage my Kinders to reflect and write. Perhaps a little-things-noticing ritual with a lovely handmade little-things-noticing journal is the answer! Art, writing, and mindfulness all wrapped up in one. This can be a beautiful ritual that allows us to slow down, take a moment, notice, celebrate, and keep track of the lovely little things. I think I can find a bit of time in the morning and afternoon for us to note one little — wonderful — thing.
Fingers crossed I’ll keep you posted.
Here’s a few of mine for right now:
sunshine
naps
sprouts growing
birds chirping
my flute
greeted by name by a kind soul
conversations with old friends
delicious green tea
my inhale-exhale mug
a blog post
I wonder how the Kinders will experience this ritual of reflection and writing. I will have to think how I might structure it — the journal, the time, the selling — to help them experience it’s power.
My experience? I found that seeing one thing brought another, and another to mind. Occasionally I felt a bit of reticence — thinking other might find my ritual silly, I think. But, as I brushed that away, I found more things to note.
Let us all learn from my Kindergartners. Let’s notice, celebrate and share the little moments — even when we think others might think us silly.
A couple months ago, I was invited to attend a writing retreat. I love the woman running the retreat. Ruth is kind, supportive, and funny. She has a big beautiful brain and an awesome heart, and she’s a great writer. So, I said yes.
I’ve been feeling tired, ill, and a bit off my game these last few weeks. Even though I was looking forward to it, I almost backed out of the retreat. I was in an exhausted funk.
Today, mid-funk, the mailman dropped off a package for me. I opened it to find this.
At first, I wondered what crazy person had sent me a book about murdering your darlings. Then I noticed the subtitle and he enclosed gift card. The card said “I’m looking forward to the retreat. Shine on!” The book was a gift from Ruth! Her gift and words were a beautiful balm for my heart and soul.
I’ve only read the cover, the dedication, the table of contents, and the introduction. But, I’m already hooked. I appreciate Roy’s sense of humor, honesty, and ideas. I can’t wait to read more. In Roy’s spirit of sharing, and to encourage you to read his work, here are a few fantabulous snippets:
DEDICATION: Roy dedicates the book to journalists, and reading and writing teachers. “You deserve medals as champions of literacy and democracy. Thank you for your service.” I feel seen and valued!
TABLE OF CONTENTS: There is just too much to comment on right now. Get your hands on a copy of Roy’s book and check it out for yourself.
INTRODUCTION: Roy’s comment about writing guides “… in rare but crucial cases spin my head around like an owl’s at an exorcism!” made me laugh out loud and nod in agreement about equally head-spinning ideas I’ve experienced. Later on, I cracked up reading his response to a question regarding how he managed to be such a prolific writer. He responded, “I write at faculty meetings.” Oh my gosh! Again, I cracked up.
Then I came upon this gem.
When an author writes a good writing guide that author is inviting you — in Frank Smith’s good phrase — to join a club. You may aspire to become a writer, but after reading their work on writing, you can better identify as one, feeling part of a community, a tribe of scribes. (Roy Peter Clark, p. 6)
Too bad I didn’t have a video recording of my response. I closed the book as I drew in my breath and fell back in my chair. I clasped the book to my heart, and gently stroked the cover.
That is what I want — as a human to be part of a club, a community, and as a writer to be part of a tribe of scribes! Thank you, Roy. Thank you, Ruth. Thank you to all the marvelous writers who have already accepted me into the tribe of scribes. I’m grateful and so glad to be here.
I have two tall white cabinets in my learning space. I use the white fronts for many things. Sometimes, things get stale. Yes, stale, just like dry, old bread. They lose their appeal. To be brutal, they are ready to be thrown away. Now, if they are student work, I don’t throw them away. But for emphasis sake, I use that phrase.
I recently removed some of that stale work from those cabinets. Naked — as my learners would say — their stark white color stood out, urging me to repurpose them for something beautiful and created by the children. For a few days, I let their urging ferment in my brain.
This week I decided to end the year as we began it: with real-life writing. On one cabinet, I wrote: We are … On the other I wrote: We can … I cut 6-inch square pieces of construction paper and left them out for our Investigate and Explore Time with the provocation to cover our naked cabinets with positive things that are true for us. The Kindergarten writers were into it, and quickly filled the covered the bare cabinets with beautiful affirmations of themselves.
The process was great. I enjoyed watching from afar — drawing near only to help when it was requested and necessary. Otherwise, I allowed the Kindergarteners to complete it on their own. Each day I noticed a new entry which filled my heart with joy. Then I saw this one.
Wow! Even though they have things to learn and ways to grow, and times when they are sad or mad and aren’t their best selves, they can still say “We are absolutely perfect.” I love that. I want them to know they are absolutely perfect. This will give the courage to learn, be, and change the world.
One student had not yet added her affirmations to her abstract art handprint piece. I asked her to finish it, and without hesitation, she sat down in front of the We are cabinet and began writing. Outstanding!
The cabinets adorned with the kindergartners’ thoughts, writing, and doodles add beauty to our room, serve as writing idea resources, and provide positive reminders. Well done, kindergartners!
Once you’re comfy, peel its gentle skin like you would a clementine … dig your thumb at the bottom of each juicy section and pop the piece out.
Kwame Alexander – How to Read a book
Kwame’s book is beautiful. The words are wonderful, and the images are stunning. This quote is one my Kindergartners and I come back to with great frequency. They have been thinking about scrumptious clementine pieces that are so juicy they burst when you bite them, sending clementine juice down your chin, and surrounding you with clementine fragrance.
The Kinders are crafting their own juicy sentences. They start with the driest of sentences, and tell only “Who, did what.” Then they use their imagination to say more about the who and the did what?
The juice, flavor, and fragrance of this one got me.
So much to love — her thinking, her writing, her ideas. We’re together, by the pizza store in our matching coats, gazing at the stars! It’s a great place to be.
Life has been feeling a bit cluttered lately. A plethora of things are vying for my attention, and filling my to-do ta-da list. Still others are disturbing the peace of my physical space.
So, I breathe, try to do one thing at a time, and begin to tackle the things in my physical space. A vivid mental image of me literally tackling the stacks of things — knocking them to the ground in a feat of physical prowess and dominance, is wildly satisfying and amusing.
As I recycle, donate, and trash the things I no longer need or enjoy, I flip through many notebooks. In one, I find this sweet treat. I’m pretty sure I did it as I waited for a doctor, or got some sort of infusion.
It was a much needed reminder — from me to me — and as I looked at it, I thought, “I should take that out and put it somewhere I’d see it more often.” Funny enough, even as I was thinking what a great idea that was, I was also thinking, “Take it out? Are you nuts?”
I cannot exactly explain why I was thinking — or perhaps more accurately feeling — that angst. It didn’t make that much sense to my brain, but none-the-less the feeling was strong. I think it has to do with a fear of wrecking the piece, or making it less, or somehow lessening its value and impact for me.
I thought of several things I might do with it — including pasting it in my daily art affirmation and positivity journal. Still reluctant to rip it out, I instead ripped out a blank sheet as a template. I measured, thought, placed, and looked. I repeated the process many times. Finally I realized there were no rules that stated I had to make art in only one day’s space. It is my journal, my creation. I could place the piece wherever I wanted — even centering it over two days.
I considered adding washi tape on the top and bottom border, but couldn’t find it. So, I grabbed a colored pencil, and created my own washi-tape-esque border. I’m quite pleased with the result.
The washi-tape-esque border creating was meditative and zen-like. As I worked, my brain noticed, wondered, made connections and generated questions.
Our learners may feel and express things that don’t seem to make any sense. That doesn’t mean they can, or should, stop feeling it because we think it is unwarranted. And just like with my feelings and thoughts, talking to make me want to do it any more. It’s important to remember that sometimes encouraging, reasoning, and/or requiring doesn’t help.
Taking concrete steps helped! Making something — using my hands to think — enabled me to iterate, ideate, see new possibility, and create something new and even more impactful. I think an essential piece is that I used MY hands to think. I did the doing and the thinking.
How might I be an effective thought partner with my learners?
Taking the old art, and incorporating it into my life and art in a new way, required me to reexamine the old piece, find essential elements, and consider ways to incorporate these things on the new piece.
How might I incorporate this type of art into my Kindergartners art making experiences?
There’s so much to gain from this type of endeavor.
What are the connections to student art, learning, doing, and thinking?
How might I make help make these connections for and with my students?
I really like the truth that our ideas, art, thinking, writing, (perhaps everything) don’t need to be limited or confined to the original. They can be the fantabulous original, and they can also be fodder for something new and satisfying. Bringing forth something new is often — or is it always? — the purpose and power of ideas and creations. Sometimes the new is a feeling, an experience, or an understanding. Other times, it’s a new idea or creation. As I type, I’m asking myself, and you, if we will be ok when our new idea or thing requires the partial destruction of our original one. And, I’m wondering how we will help our students be ok when they are faced with the same situation.
