Timothy Egan - Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher

It's time to blog again... after a LONG bit of "blog block"!

      The first book I'm reading in 2013 is Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher:  The Epic Life and Immortal Photographs of Edward Curtis.  If you are a Timothy Egan fan, you're going to love this new book.  The Worst Hard Time, for which he won the National Book Award is one of my favorite books.  I knew when I saw his new book, I had to read it!
     Timothy Egan writes about Edward Curtis - a famous mountaineer and photographer - with riveting and thought-provoking insight.  It's the kind of narrative nonfiction that I can't put down.
     Edward Curtis was a man on a mission when he decided to capture as much of Native American life as he could... on both film and audio.  Curtis moved from studio photographer to "archiver" of Native American life like no other person.  He settled in Seattle after moving from Minnesota.  In the early 1900s, he decided that he would capture as much of Native American life as possible before the life of our country's original inhabitants disappeared forever.  He was willing to give up everything - his family, his business, his rights as a photographer - to pursue his dream of capturing authentic insight about the lives of Native Americans.  And, as a result of his persistence, there are over 40,000 photographs and 10,000 audio recordings captured all over our country.  Curtis was driven.  He died in 1952 at a time when his work was all but forgotten (Mr. Egan's book will certainly revitalize an interest in Curtis's photography).
     As I read the first chapter about Chief Seattle's daughter, Princess Angeline, I was awestruck.  The conflict between the development of the Seattle area and the demise of the native people who occupied the area is brilliantly described and impeccably researched.  It was Curtis's interest in Angeline that nudged hims to spend 30 years photographing Native Americans... he spent over ten years trying to persuade the Hopi to let him into their Snake Dance ceremony.  By 1930 he had created 20 volumes of documentation.  Amazing.  And, we learn it was not without the sacrifice.
     Timothy Egan is a gifted writer.  He writes with passion and purpose.  Check out his essays in the New York Times.  But first, check out Short Nights of the the Shadow Catcher.  

Daniel Pinkwater - Another Great Title

Daniel Pinkwater.  Who doesn't love Daniel Pinkwater?  
     I use his book The Big Orange Splot often to remind teachers that creativity matters, that being yourself matters... and to relax! (Thanks to my friend, Lori, for telling me about it).
     I love The Hoboken Chicken Emergency because it makes me laugh!  I've seen 4th graders read it with the strangest look on their faces.
     I think of I am the Dog every time I sit and wonder what Timber is trying to tell me.  It makes me almost want to try kibble!
     I was a Second-Grade Werewolf makes me wish my name was Lawrence Talbot.  It makes me smile.
     I think of William every time I'm at the dentist because I think it would be so cool to pick up radio signals in my tooth ala Fat Men From Space.  It's a favorite read aloud.
     I laugh when I read The Ratatouille Weight Loss Plan and ponder when I read his tribute to Jean Shepherd (author of A Christmas Story).
     I haven't read all of his works, but he's one gifted writer.

I just received a copy of Bear in Love published by Candlewick Press.  I love Bear.  Who else finds joy in a carrot, or two, or three?  Daniel Pinkwater captures the burgeoning friendship between a bunny and a bear with such simplicity and humor.  The last line "And the two of them sat side by side in the clearing, singing songs as the sun went down," is brilliant.  This book would be a perfect read aloud for young readers.  You could use it during a study of inferring at any age.  You could use it as a mentor text with young writers.  Or you could just spend some time basking in the Pinkwater gift...

Thank you to Candlewick Press for the Advanced Copy

     

Weaving the Rainbow

Ran across this gem by George Ella Lyon not long ago.  She's a poet's poet.  If you haven't read her poem, "Where I'm From," you should.  You can hear her read it aloud by clicking here.  My wife, Susan, first introduced me to Ms. Lyon and I've been hooked ever since.
    Weaving the Rainbow is a wonderful book.  The lyrical words are illustrated beautifully by Stephanie Anderson (check out her work called The Wonder of Books).
     What struck me most about this book is how much it reminded me of my sister, Doris.  Her husband, Curtis, and their daughters raised sheep.  Each year they would shear, collect, and send the wool off to Baron Woolen Mills (which closed in 1998).  Then some lucky family members would be surprised with soft woolen blankets.  We still use one each winter to warm our bed and remind us of the love of that dear family!  That's what a "connection" does; takes you to another time or place just for an instant and then draws you back into the text seamlessly.
     George Ella Lyon's poetic book captures the year long cycle of raising sheep for the beauty of their wool - from pasture to weaving.  This is a book that's meant to be read aloud.  There's a charm to Ms. Lyon's words and she captures the life of an artist with a sense of grace and peacefulness.  It's going in my "at-home" collection, but I can't wait to share it with my students.  She truly is a weaver of words.

Fantastic Flying Books

I love this book.  It fascinates me.  It piques my curiosity.  It makes me wonder.  It makes me ponder.  The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore (click to see more) is brilliant!  It's charming.  (As is the Academy Award winning film.)

     When you read a book that opens like this...

Morris Lessmore loved words.

He loved stories.

He loved books.

His life was a book of his own writing, one orderly page

after another.  He would open it every morning and write

of his joys and sorrows, of all that he knew

and everything that he hoped for.

     When I read it to my students last week (as part of our study of how "Wise Readers Monitor for Meaning"), we all decided that those very words were worth tucking into our hearts and minds... to make them available when we need inspiration as readers and writers.  My friend, Linda, summed it up this way, "I think the 'wow' was... Everyone's story matters.  Just sayin'!"  She right.

     Read the book to your students.  Then if you have a chance, buy the short film on iTunes.  Watch it.  Show it to your students.  Then ask them, "So what do you think?"  You'll be amazed by their answers!  William Joyce more than deserved the accolades and awards for this brilliant piece of work.  One of my students say, "It's really about heaven, I think... it's about growing old and letting go..."  Story matters.

     This is a run, don't walk, kind of book!  This is a get-to-your-favorite-independent-bookstore-and-buy-it kind of book!  This is a book that should be in your classroom and on your coffee table.  It's generational.  It's a metaphor for life--especially if you love books, love reading, love words.  Thank you, William Joyce, for sharing your brilliance.

And so our story ends as it began...

...with the opening of a book!

Home? Where's Yours"

Home.  Where’s yours?  Today I was reading from a wonderful collection by Lee Bennett Hopkins called, Home to Me: Poems Across America.  It’s a grand collection of poetry about “home” and it is striking!

I’ve been thinking about home a lot of late.  Today, I was sitting in my classroom after school, with a pile of books on my table, planning our next study as writers.  In Lee’s book, Pass the Poetry, Please!, I read the words Lucille Clifton offered, “… lives become generations made out of pictures and words just kept.”  Generations.   

And, as I was reading Home to Me I was awestruck when I read Rebecca Kai Dotlich’s poem “A Place Called Prairie.”  I was breathless with her words, “I breathe in stories told to me; when winds came calling, a fine dust falling on these same prairie plains…”  And then, I read “Needed” by Sandra Gilbert Brug.  That was it.  I was brought to tears, remembering…

I started remembering my childhood.  Remembering times spent with my brother-in-law and sister on the “Turkey Track” near Colorado Springs.  Remembering playing with my nieces in the hayloft, in the corrals, in the chicken houses.  Remembering grand dinners and lunches whipped up my sister, Doris.  Remembering feeding cattle, learning to drive the pickup, riding horses, branding cattle.  Remembering laughter and country songs playing on the phonograph.  Remembering the warmth of eggs as I gathered them in the morning.  Remembering tomatoes canned at summer's end.  Remembering gatherings of neighbors and friends.  Remembering falling asleep to the night sounds of coyotes on the lawn and then the raucous roosters waking us in the morning.  Remembering… The simplicity.  The joy.  The hard work.  The life.  Home.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about where our educational road is leading young learners.  I think about assessments and standards and backwards planning and publishers out to make a buck.  And the plethora of “stuff” whipped up by the those whose home is farthest away from children... in the name of accountability and ‘being number one.”  Instead of slowing down, we keep speeding up… and learners who need to think deeply, ponder regularly, and question often still have a place in the 21^st Century.  It's my hope that we can all slow down a bit, after all, isn't that want the core content standards propose?  Depth, not breadth.  Synthesis, not regurgitation.  Thinking, not filling in blanks. 

But, back to home.  What I’m really thinking about is story.  Ruth Ayres always inspires me to remember story (she reminds us not to forget story and its importance in our lives).  Ruth’s voice has been echoing in my brain since I heard her keynote at the AllWrite Conference last summer.  And, so I’m befuddled.  In all the madness and rush to move readers and writers through continuums, programs, rubrics, and such, I worry about the simplicity, the organic nature of learning, the heart of the learner.  Moving slowly and deeply must lead children safely into the complexity of this thing called learning.

As I pondered Lee’s work today, I began to lay out our next “unit of study.”  I decided that we, as learners, are going to have to take the slow path, the scenic path, enough to do some remembering.  We’re going to have to dig deep into the satchels of memory we carry (don’t worry, I’ll make sure we’re learning something viable).  We’re going to have create the same kinds joy that has inspired Lee, Lucille, Rebecca, and Ruth. 

Home. The power of “home.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Here’s what I jotted in my journal in response to the reading I did this afternoon.  A little poem, just to ground my thinking.  Enjoy.

Prairie

I drove to the prairie today,

For what?  I don’t quite know.

Perhaps to listen for the sound of cattle hooves

tramping across their well-worn pasture path.

Perhaps to see the windmill blades

churning beside a lone horse tank.

Perhaps to smell the dampness of the blue grama
drifting amidst a prairie wind.

Perhaps to touch the dusty earth
warming slowly after morning rain.

Perhaps to taste the evening breeze
blowing its breath into the world.

I drove to the prairie today,
For what?  Perhaps just to remember.

Perhaps to return... home. 

p.s.  As I reread this post, I felt this kinetic jump from topic to topic... a slight disconnect.  But, it's what was on my mind.  Let's just call it... random post for the month!

A Peaceful Start to the Year...

peace.

it does not mean to be in a place

where there is no noise, trouble

or hard work.  it means to be in

the midst of those things and still

be calm in your heart.

Unknown

On a canvas bag sent to me by my friend Mimi

 

     I started my school year out somewhat differently this year.  Oh... we've had the usual conversations about workshop structures, rituals and routines, the gradual release of responsibility, learning with a spirit of endurance.  And, our conversations have been grand and thoughtful.  But I've added a new twist.  My friend, Dana, nudged my thinking in a different direction (great colleagues have a way of nudging and stretching our thinking, don't they?).

     Dana and I decided that we wanted a "peace-filled" beginning to our school year (she's in Casper, Wyoming and I'm here).  And, after talking a bit (okay, more than a bit), we both decided that it would be a great way to start the year... to build on the concept of "peace" and to incorporate peacefulness into our reader's and writer's workshops throughout the school year.  Together, we did a search of our classroom libraries (and bookstores) to find just the right literature to launch our discussions with children. 

     Within the buzz and bustle of my classroom of 31 fourth graders, I knew I had to bring a sense of slowness and calm, patience and peace, lingering and depth to our work together.  And, what better way to do it than through making careful decisions about some of the texts we're using for think alouds, shared readings, and writing launches?  We've delved into some sophistication along the way so far... comparing, critiquing, commenting.  What a grand way to start the year!  Combined with "peaceful" music, low lighting, and a quiet tone... it's been, well, peace-filled.

     Having an overarching feeling of "peace" has added a new dimension to our classroom environment.  My students and I have enjoyed exploring the concept into our discussions, our notebooks, and our classroom routines.  And with "peace" comes a sense of rigor and quiet reflection that is both contagious and awe-inspiring.

     I thought I'd share some favorite texts I've found with you.  I have used several and plan to use several more throughout the year... as we step "gently out" into our year together, I can't wait to find more!  Helen Frost's wonderful poem (and picture book) "Step Gently Out" has become our theme for this year.  And we all need a little gentleness is our classroom worlds, don't we?  Here you go:

A favorite find!  A wonderful mentor text for writing biographies... breathtaking!

A simple text that creates a grand message!  Talk.  Peace.  Two words that should be on our lips as we work together daily...

This book is definitely for a more mature group of children, but what a grand book to empower children to become peacemakers.  A bit "controversial," but worth having on the list!  Beautifully written narrative text.

Joanne Ryder... need I say more?  Okay, how about Norman Gorbaty.  Enough said!

The photographs are endearing and the text is a tribute to a peaceful existence.

The creator of dynamite now has the most important prize in all the world named after him... the Nobel Prize.  Amazing!  Look at the cover... it is absolutely brilliant!  I love this book and I was amazed by Alfred Lobel's story.

The photographs are lovely... and the text takes the reader through a day of peace.

I love the illustrations by Stephanie Carter.  And Jane Baskwill's words can't help but create a peaceful tone.  If peace is a promise... a wonderful repeating line!

Lee Bennett Hopkins compiled this wonderful collection of poetry from some of our favorite poets.  And, Chris Soentpiet's illustrations are masterful (look for the face of the girl from Something Beautiful on the cover).

Our "theme" book for the year... We're stepping gently out into a year of exploring and learning.  This is a beautiful book by Helen Frost.  Combined with Rick Lieder's photos... stunning!  Check out this Vimeo!  I've blogged about this book before and it's a read and read again addition to our "peace" bag this year!

 

Sky Color

Sky Color by Peter H. Reynolds is amazing.  There's something magical and endearing about the books he writes and this is no exception.
     In Sky Color, he captures the spirit of a young artist, Marisol.  We've all known a Marisol or two... creative, passionate, artsy, quirky.  Near the beginning of the book there's a line "She painted posters to share ideas she believed in."  When I read that line, I was hooked... I knew I was going to love the rest of the book.
     Marisol's class was planning to paint a mural in the library and she chose to paint the sky.  Her only trouble... no blue paint.  She pondered.  And, when she watched the day turn into night, she made an amazing discovery.  She had vision.  She had insight.  She thought outside the "sky."  I won't tell you about her decision... 
     Suffice to say, I worry about the Marisol's in today's world.  I worry that within the core of what others believe to be, well, standard, that the Marisols will stop searching for new ideas, new colors, new inspirations, new vision.  I worry that what's at the very core of the artist's soul won't be nurtured, engaged, nudged... valued.

     I love Sky Color.  It reminds me of a story my sister (83-years-old) told me about coloring a Thanksgiving turkey in school when she was a little girl.  Joy knew turkeys.  While the other children colored their turkeys brown and black, Joy colored the tail feathers blue and red and yellow and orange.  Joy's turkey had a body that was a blend of subtle blues, blacks, and greens.  Her turkey's head was brilliant red... its eye a small white and black bead.  As the teacher walked by, she leaned over and whispered, "Oh dear Joy, turkeys are brown!"  Try as she might to explain her choice of color, Joy was shocked when the teacher put a large red X through her drawing, handed her a new paper and said, "Here honey, why don't you try again!"  All these years later, Joy still remembers being asked to conform to a world she saw differently... more beautifully.
     Joy is a Marisol.  And, I'm so glad we have wonderful writers like Peter H. Reynolds to remind us that THEY need support as well... to their very core!

Thank you to Candlewick Press for the Advanced Copy