Happy National Poetry Month! Happy Poetry Friday! You might remember me as a former Teaching Author. Today, I'm back to visit and celebrate.
Happy spring! Here in Wisconsin, spring weather means alternating between basking in delicious sunlight and piling on warmer clothes.
boing
sproing
spring bounces
dances
gallops through gardens
leaving green footprints
Signs of spring are popping up all over! We have lots to celebrate today—including a giveaway of my new picture book Grow, illustrated by Stephanie Fizer Coleman and published by Boyds Mills & Kane. With a multicultural cast of characters and STEAM-related content, Grow is a celebration of the wondrous ways young animals and people grow into unique individuals.
Inspired by encounters with wildlife in woods and ponds and our own backyard, Grow began long ago as a message of hope for our two young sons, who are now grown and on their own. Never give up!
Poetry Friday!
Mary Lee at A Year of Reading has today's Poetry Friday Roundup. Enjoy!
Book Giveaway!
Enter the giveaway for a chance to win an autographed copy of Grow! The giveaway ends April 16, 2021 and is open to U.S. residents only.
If you choose option 2, you must leave a comment on TODAY'S blog post, on the TeachingAuthors Facebook page, or in an email to teachingauthors [at] gmail [dot] com. If you submit your comment via email or Facebook, you must still enter the drawing via Rafflecopter.
On March 13th of last year, I said “so long for now” to my
transitional kindergarteners/kindergarteners in Los Angeles.It was supposed to be for two weeks, but doubt
tugged at the edges of my mind.I stayed
late that day and collected everything that meant anything to me and packed it into
my car.I really wasn’t sure when we
were coming back.
Even the thought of two weeks online without any preparation
or direction was daunting.How would I
preserve the heart of my little community that we had worked so hard to nurture?
My wide-eyed, five-year-olds had spent six months learning to connect, communicate, and create
together. Stories kept them bound to
each other. Braided together by three-quarters of a year, they had learned that their stories were
valuable and listening to each other’s stories was equally so. We had created an artery from which those
stories flowed straight to the heart of our class, keeping us alive and
nourished.
The expectations for teachers on that first Monday of
virtual class, March 16, 2020 were high but undefined, ambiguous, and undetermined.
There was no roadmap. No guideposts. No precedence that we knew of (a year
later it turns out that this is not the first time in history that schools were
shuttered because of a pandemic.)I
didn’t even have the proper technology to switch to virtual teaching.
But, when it comes to children, it’s often very simple.As long as you speak to their hearts and can
hear their hearts beat back, you can’t
go wrong.Those last three months were
painful for all of us. Thesimple answer
at the time was to hold onto storytelling.It was our life raft that we rode to the other side.
I began the new school year in August with the same intent,
creating a new artery with a different set of young storytellers.Beginning with four and five-year-olds who had
never been in formal school was like the cliché, “building the plane while
flying it.”
I did not have the advantage of beginning with a group of
students in-person and finishing up online.This was a whole new frontier. How could I bring this group together and
create cohesion amongst young children who were still at the beginning of their
development in terms of social skills? Most importantly, could I save the
school year with the power of story? Could we build that artery like I had the
year before? I was unsure.
I am a big believer in the power of story and so my lack of
direction led me to my most basic core value as both a teacher and an author.Stories are the only thing we leave behind
when our time on this earth has been completed.The stories other people tell about us and the life we led is our only
true legacy after we are long gone.Learning to tell our stories and to recognize the stories of others is
the essence of humanity.
Stories define us and dare us to dream.They simultaneously connect us to each other and
allow us to shine individually as we explore our own narratives.Stories are perhaps the most powerful thing
that humans create.They are what set us
apart from other species.They are how
we communicate to each other, to our young, and across generations and
centuries.They defy time and space.
I believe that the
art of storytelling is the most basic skill that children need.Most academic subjects flow from story and
narrative. And so, I travelled deep down to the memory of the lifeblood that
flowed through that artery thatI had
created the year before under much different circumstances. When faced with the
dilemma of what I would teach my young studentsvirtually, my path led me back to keeping our humanity.Preserving our
humanity with stories that flowed through the artery would sustain us and
learning lessons that reached beyond, writing, and arithmetic would save the
heart of our education.
The media says that we have lost a year of learning, but I disagree.
The students in my class this year have learned to tell
their stories to each other. We have not lost.We have gained. I believe we have gained back our heart in education. I believe we
havepreserved our humanity. What really
makes us human? Standards and tests? Data and criteria? Or stories that create
a rich tapestry of existence.
My students paused
and observed things around them that they would never have noticed in the
hustle and bustle of their typical lives. Our community has been able to notice
the details of their personal stories that they usually don’t have time for, as
life rushes by.More importantly, we
have grown our relationships and have created rich narratives.
We have not lost. Perhaps we have shed the
things that have cluttered the “being” part of human being and travelled down
to our true heart where stories keep us alive and will for generations to come
. . . and then some.
Stories are the lifeblood that flow through the artery. They
feed the heart of education which is our humanity. Isn’t that the true purpose
of education? I’d like to think so.
Posted by Zeena M. Pliska
For more information about my picture books and teaching experiences click www.zeenamar.com
If the videos don't play for you above. You can click on them below.
Howdy, Campers, and Happy Poetry Friday! (The link to PF are below)
This round, we’re sharing “Matters of the Heart”💕. Esther starts us off in her characteristically generous, loving manner, offering three books that keep her heart beating;: Of, By and For Our Reader’s,Writer’s and Teacher’s Hearts; as she takes time off from this blog (I miss her already), Bobbi shares a song I’ve fallen in love with, Baba
Yetu, in her very short post, Song of the Week: Here’s to You!; Mary Ann, who always writes honestly from her heart, shares old family photos as
she chronicles her process of returning to writing in Welcoming Home the Prodigal Heart; and Carmela shares two original haiku inspired by a prompt on Storystorm in her post, #TwoHaikuFromTwo.
And me? As a spring breeze of hope blows across my face, three things come to mind when I hear the word "heart"...
1. Heartbreak: March 7, 2020 ~ the last time I taught in person at UCLA.💔
I thought I was so clever putting up this sign to keep our classroom safe that day :
Pl Please
read the exciting tale of ALCOHOL
AND KLEENEX ~ A LOVE STORY ·Pour a
small amount of alcohol in your palm. · Wash"
your hands the same way you would with soap and water (the classic love story
you may be more familiar with). ·Let
your hands air dry completely. Do not
rub them on your clothes to dry. Thank
you.
(We live and learn: I quickly stopped using alcohol. Anyone need a bottle? I have extra.)
There are many markers for when, exactly, the pandemic began in the US. The consensus is March 11, 2020. I was haunted recently, thinking back...it felt as if it had been at least two years. Or ten. I wrote this poem March 11, 2021:
THIS DAY
by April Halprin Wayland
This day.
This day a year ago
(or maybe more? Am I remiss?)
We stood upon a precipice
and knew not this:
this day the route was stayed, dismissed.
We thought it was the way but no—
it was the cliff.
2. 💕Take Heart: Two shots!💕
Now, thanks to the policies of a human, humane POSTUS, I’m double-vaccinated, as is my husband. And though we know democracy is not and has never been a spectator sport, still, my heart beats with hope for our country. Soon we may have a big, warm hug with our son and his beloved (he's an ER doc in Albuquerque, we live in Southern California)!
3. 👪From Heart Burn to Open Hearted: Three Musketeers teach a three-hour class👪
In the writing/teaching realm, my heart is filled with affection and appreciation for...
...two dear friends with whom I've been teaching intro to picture book class for absolute beginnerseach spring for many years. This quarter, UCLA Extension Writers' Program asked us to condense our one-day eight hour class into a one-day, three hour class.
Did you catch that? From eight hours down to three.
How were we going to teach everything a beginning picture book writer wants to know but is afraid to ask in THREE hours?
ACK! There's so much students won't be getting.
But as every seasoned teacher knows, that's nothing new, right? Learning what to leave out is part of teaching. It's just that remote classes gobble up time like bears gobbling blueberries.
Once we agreed that stuffing eight hours into three was like stuffing a dictionary into a thimble, we ripped up our syllabus and our carefully paced 8-hour schedule, created a tear in the space-time continuum,
...and crawled through.
And now it feels as if we've birthed something new. It's exciting! So...if you know someone who doesn't know ANYTHING about picture books but is curious, please tell them about our class ~ just $30 for 3 hours. It'll be an adventure. Tell them to join us!
Here's our flyer with Barney's fabulous illustration:
UCLA EXTENSION WRITERS' PROGRAM PRESENTS:
INTRODUCTION TO WRITING CHILDREN’S PICTURE BOOKS
A BASIC WORKSHOP FOR ABSOLUTE BEGINNERS
Saturday, April 3, 2021, 12-3pm PST
$30
You have the dream~ I've always wanted to write a children's picture book. But how? This inspiring class offers you practical tools to help you realize that dream. It includes writing exercises, examples of current picture books and behind-the-scenes stories and advice from award-winning authors. By the end of this class you'll have tools to guide you in this vibrant field.
Please understand that learning to write a picture book in three hours is like speed-dating a cheetah on roller skates. Downhill. Still, the chase will be quite exciting! Enrollment is limited. https://ucla.in/3eUCzWU ...................................................................................................
I mentioned back in December that one of the things I was looking forward to in 2021 was "becoming even more steeped in poetry, both reading and writing it." I'm happy to say I've been following through on that intention. So I was especially pleased when I read a Storystorm 2021 post by Amanda Davis in which she described her #HaikuFromTwo challenge as a way to find story ideas. Here's the graphic she shared in her post:
I loved the idea! At the time, I was readingFrom the Desk of Zoe Washington(Katherine Tegen Books) by Janae Marks The two random words my finger landed on were lemonade (page 77) and play (page 155). I came up with the following #HaikuFromTwo and Tweeted it on Feb. 3:
Next, I read the novel-in-verse Reenie’s Turn(Regal House Publishing) by my friend and fellow SCBWI-IL author Carol Coven Grannick. The random words I fell upon in that novel were mysterious (page 31) and window (page 150. On March 2, I Tweeted the following #HaikuFromTwo:
I really enjoyed writing these #HaikuFromTwo--they're a quick way to nourish my writer's heart. So I plan to keep writing them. You can follow me on Twitter if you'd like to see what I come up with next. (I also Tweet links to our latest TeachingAuthors posts there.)
Meanwhile, make sure to check out this week's Poetry Friday roundup by Heidi Mordhorst at my juicy little universe.
Nothing keeps my writer's heart going. My writer's heart flatlined last March, the day the CDC announced that I was officially elderly and at risk. Before last March, I thought of myself as a ten-year-old heart in a body of indeterminate age. Overnight, I became an old person who could die. My ten-year-old writer's heart curled up in a closet somewhere. Except for blog posts, I've written almost nothing since this time last year.
Me, Carmela and April at a long ago conference
All the things that normally keep my "kid's heart" going...are gone. Young Writer's Camp. Didn't happen last summer, haven't heard about this year. Writer's group and conferences? Gone or gone virtual. (I have difficulty hearing on Zoom.) Eavesdropping on random people. There are no random people because I don't leave the house unless it's a dire emergency. Talking to friends, over a glass of wine, meandering from subject to subject. (I mentioned my problems with Zoom, right?)
The world was so hateful and judgmental and scary...writing was the last thing I wanted to do. Not writing was the scariest thing of all, because writing is how I make sense of life. Now, the more I journaled, the less sense anything made. Words not only failed me...I couldn't find words. I was using a thesaurus just to have a conversation with my husband. I couldn't remember why I ever thought I could write.
Maybe I couldn't write any more.
Then something happened.
Yesterday morning, I started out on dire emergency errands...picking up prescriptions from various pharmacies. I left the house in cords and a flannel shirt. By the time I got home, the temperature was in the 70's and I was hot. So I changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and took my dog for a walk.
I wear shorts around the house in winter, because my husband insists on keeping the thermostat set to "The Tropics in July." I walk my dog several times a day. Neither of these things are unusual. However, for the first time in months and months...I walked the dog while wearing shorts. A warm breeze tickled my knees. Boing! In an instant, I was ten years old again, wearing shorts after a winter of wool tights and storm boots. Free of slogging through slush and toe-freezing winds, I was barelegged and skipping along in my new Keds. (OK, yesterday I was wearing Vans.)
Mom and I brave another Chicago winter
My cousins and I (I'm the one shorts.)
My child's heart had returned. My inner ten-year-old is who writes my stories. Life was fascinating when I was ten, full of possibility and hope, both sadly lacking this past year. Kids are all about hope. That's why I write for them and not their parents.
My family has been spared sickness this year, and for that I am truly thankful. But COVID and all the accompanying chaos did a number on my heart and soul. I thought my ten-year-old heart had packed her bags and hit the road, never to be seen again.
My writer's heart has come out from wherever she was hiding, ready to hope again. And write. However, she needs time to recover. She might blow bubbles on the back porch. Or dance around the den to her old Monkees albums. She will most definitely re-read her favorite childhood books. And of course, dog walks in shorts and Keds.
Some day, in-person writing conferences and long talks over wine will return. I've had vaccine shot number one, with number two scheduled for St. Patrick's Day. Until it's safe for me to re-enter the world, there is time to re-read the two best books ever written--Charlotte's Web and Harriet the Spy. E.B. White and Louise Fitzhugh certainly knew how to keep their child hearts beating.
Life has gotten a bit too demanding of late. Just wanted to let you know that I'll be taking a hiatus from Teaching Authors for a bit while I take care of a few things. Meanwhile, sent to me by my dear friend, code name Clara, I'll leave you with this shivery tear-worthy song. It will certainly make your week. It did mine!
Hope all is going well with you, and I'll see you soon!
This time around, and this being February, we TeachingAuthors
celebrate All Things Of, By and For the Heart that keep our own
hearts creatively beat-beat-beating.
As the first to post, I choose to celebrate by offering thanks.
So…
Thank you, Silas Wade, for grabbing my Reader’s heart and refusing to let go while telling your story of acceptance in Phil Bildner’s middle grade novel A High Five for Glenn Burke (Farrar, Strauss & Giroux, 2020). True, I adore baseball – both professional and Little League. True, I adore learning about a player I’d never known – namely, your Hero Glenn Burke, the first MLB player to come out as gay to teammates and team owners during his career – and – the inventor of the High-Five. But even truer, I love characters whose struggles lead to Bigger Truths we need to honor. “You be you!” your Mom told you non-stop. And by season’s end you bravely were, letting those in your world, those on your team, know you were gay. High Fives all around! You opened our eyes. We all can play. We all belong.
And thank you, LeUyen Pham, for pumping my Writer’s heart with an endless supply of oxygen and nutrients. In Outside, Inside (Roaring Brook Press, 2021), your poetic words and beautiful illustrations perfectly and oh, so simply capture the essence of the story we’ve all been living, all around the world, since late February of 2020.
“Something strange happened
on an unremarkable day
just before the season changed.
Everybody who was OUTSIDE
…went INSIDE.”
Without any mention of COVID-19, masks, ZOOM or social distancing, the story’s take-away both sounded and resonated: on the INSIDE we are all the same.
Mem Fox once advised that writing a picture book is like writing War and Peace in haiku. You showed this Writer how to do just that.
Finally, thank you, visual storyteller Deborah Marcero, for once again causing my Teacher’s heart to swell. I recall my words when paging through your eye-stopping portfolio at the end of my introductory Newberry Library workshop nine years ago: “You, Deborah Marcero,” I said, “are the Real Thing!” Your first written story in classes that followed, about a bear who longs to fly, was a Winner. Indeed, Peter Pauper Press published Ursa’s Lightin 2016. Like Rose in My Heart is a Compass (Little Brown, 2018), you were and remain an explorer, a pioneer, a trailblazer. Your latest illustrated book, The Boy Whose Head Was Filled with Stars (Enchanted Lion Press, Jan., 2021) has already garnered starred reviews. And how wonderful that now you teach, in VCFA’s MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults, seeding and feeding future children’s book creators.
Clearly, as a Reader/Writer/Teacher, my heart overflows.
May the above expressions of thanks keep your creative hearts
Children tell stories. It’s what they do. It’s how they make sense of their world. If you lean in closely and really listen to a young child and drop your adult expectations, you will hear it. Between the um, um, um and the repeating phrases, even toddlers are fantastic storytellers.
This is where I live when I am teaching kindergarten six hours a day. Inside children’s stories, I am allowed to travel deep down into their interior lives. This is where the fountain of youth lies, untouched by adults left cynical, distrusting, and judgmental. When a child lets you in, it is truly magical. I am given that privilege every day. I have a hard time imagining losing that privilege.
Every once in a while, I fantasize about retiring from teaching kindergarten in a public school in Los Angeles. The fantasy doesn’t last long. The fuzzy image of a future filled with days doing something other than immersing myself in a 5-year-old’s world leaves me depleted and devoid of happiness.
I teach because I can’t imagine doing anything that lacks the joy of play. The kind of play which is a means without an end. A process without an expected outcome. Creativity in its rawest form, untouched by adult expectations. Even the thought of spending my days writing, photographing, painting, or filmmaking doesn’t hold the magic of hanging out with a group of young people who keep me grounded and tethered to my own childlike wonder of the world. Maybe, it’s the fear of losing touch with that unfettered way of moving through life. Maybe, it’s the fear of losing that point of reference and losing that ever-intoxicating sense of curiosity. Maybe, it’s the fear of growing old.
I didn’t seek out a career in education as a young adult. Teaching found me.
Oh, serendipity.
I had set out to become a broadcast journalist in the early 80’s. I landed an entry level job at CBS in New York City. It was the number one station in the number one market. I was beyond thrilled. Just before leaving my college town for New York, I came to Los Angeles on a whim. Only for the weekend with a fellow recent graduate. Just to say goodbye to the west coast in style. A last farewell. But my fate was sealed. The sun enticed me and there was no turning back. Hollywood and its promise of filmmaking intrigued me and eclipsed my former goals. Broadcast journalism was in my rearview mirror.
I transitioned by getting a job as a cocktail waitress. My father was disappointed. Adrift for the moment, I felt like I needed to meet my father’s need to use my newly acquired degree that he had paid for. And so, I crossed the street to the local elementary school to ask how I might become a substitute teacher in the meantime, while I figured things out. Eventually, substitute teaching gave way to full time teaching. The gravitational pull too strong to escape. I emerged as a progressive educator committed to a philosophy of listening to children.
As a lifelong storyteller, I have facilitated story as a journalist, theater director, writer, photographer and visual/multi-media artist. As I developed as an artist and educator simultaneously, I kept the two trajectories separate. Although, I suspect they bled into one another. Later in life than most, I had a child by myself. My parenting was informed by my teaching. As my only child approached her early teen years, full time, child-centered, single parenting gave way to small bits of time that could be redirected to my innate attraction to storytelling. As she got older, it found its way back into my life. My child-directed pedagogy as a kindergarten teacher found an intersection with storytelling. I naturally found my way into the kid lit world.
Telling stories in the form of picture books is the culmination of years of listening to children, both my students and my own daughter. Writing picture books and teaching kindergarten are two separate careers. One is not dependent on the other, but I cannot deny that one informs the other and vice versa. It is my role in both professions to build the conditions for discourse between children and adults to emerge. Children tell stories to make sense of their world. They are natural storytellers. They have so much to say about our world. It is my hope that my work as a kindergarten teacher and as an author, creates an environment in which children expect to be heard.
And we, as adults,
have the capacity to hear them.
Posted by Zeena M. Pliska
Above illustrations from:
Hello, Little One: A Monarch Butterfly Story by Zeena M. Pliska
Illustrated by Fiona Halliday
Published by Page Street Kids
Caterpillar crawls from leaf to leaf, eating and waiting, all alone in a big, green world. Then Orange appears--Orange floats, and flits, and flies, graceful and beautiful. In this sweet, moving story of intergenerational friendship, a small caterpillar is befriended by a glorious monarch butterfly, and together they learn to see the world through each other's eyes.
Trailer created by Kyle Ragsdale kyleragsdalevfx.com
"Lyrically told and handsomely illustrated... Share this lovely picture book to launch a science unit, or to introduce evergreen themes including growing up, dealing with loss, and the power of transformation." –School Library Journal, starred review
"[Hello, Little One] is an accessible and thoroughly engaging introduction to monarchs, told through a parable of friendship." -- Booklist, starred review
The TeachingAuthors are six children's book authors with a wide range (and many years) of experience teaching writing to children, teens, and adults. Here, we share our unique perspective as writing teachers who are also working writers. Our features include writing exercises (our "Writing Workouts"), teaching tips, author interviews, book reviews, and more. Click here for detailed information about our "Writing Workouts." For our individual bios, please see the "About Us" page. To contact us regarding reviewing a book on the craft of writing, see the section below labeled SUBMITTING BOOKS FOR REVIEW.
HOP TO IT: Poems to Get You Moving edited by Sylvia Vardell and Janet Wong includes a poem by April Halprin Wayland
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Hello, Little One: A Monarch Butterfly Story (Page Street Kids) by Zeena M. Pliska, illustrated by Fiona Halliday
Anthology Featuring TeachingAuthors Poetry
A World Full Of Poems edited by Sylvia Vardell includes a poem by April Halprin Wayland
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