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Find more celebration posts at Ruth’s blog.

 

For the last several years, I have participated in Tabatha Yeatts’ Summer Poetry Swap.  I sent my gift and poem off last week to a poet-friend and promptly forgot that I would receive one, too.

Surprise in the mail is so exciting!  I recognized the signature as the famous Tricia Stohr-Hunt of Miss Rumphius Effect, a fabulous site of poetry love.  What I love about this poem is the extent Tricia had to research.  She learned so much about bayouland.

I’ve been stupid for a long time not knowing the Miss Rumphius Effect reference.  Until today and Ruth’s Celebrate post: “One of my favorite picture books (as if I could select a favorite) is Miss Rumphius. In it, Miss Rumphius is challenged by her grandfather–
You must do something to make the world more beautiful.” Now I know that Tricia’s call is to make the world more beautiful with poetry.  That is what she does.  Thanks, Miss Rumphius (Tricia) for your gift to the world of poetry.

 

What does a Yankee know of the bayou?

The science teacher knows
coastal wetlands,
the evolution of the Mississippi delta,
the brackish, slow moving water.
The naturalist knows
the Bald cypress and tupelo,
the pelican and egret,
the alligators.
The historian knows
the Chitimacha and Acadians,
West African slaves,
pirates and riverboats,
the reach of the Civil War.
The Yankee poet knows
the bayou only in her dreams,
so when putting pen to paper
meanders like the Teche,
through moss-draped live oaks,
and sun-kissed swamps.

–Tricia Stohr-Hunt, 2017 all rights reserved

Bookmark “In my book, you’re pure poetry.”

Poetry Friday is with Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe

Photo from Flickr: Kelly Colgan Azar

When I was home last weekend with my parents and my sister’s family, we watched a Carolina wren feed a nest of babies inside a flower pot.  I posted about this miracle of nature here.  ( I even made a short video of the nesting chicks.)

My summer discipline includes writing a poem every day. In the Practice of Poetry, Deborah Digges offers an exercise titled “Evolutions” that can be traced back to Philip Levine.  “When you can’t write, try writing about an animal.” This exercise takes some research.  Having the internet at my fingertips helped me find information about Carolina wrens.

This exercise came with warnings: “be careful not to sentimentalize, to usurp the animal you have chosen by turning it into a flaccid symbol for human emotions…The animal is itself.”  I tend to over-sentimentalize, so I tried to focus on the behaviors of the birds.  After some work and a few writing partner critiques, I feel good about this one.

 

 

 

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for the Slice of Life Challenge.

Carolina wren carries food to her babies.

Sitting on the back porch at the lake, we noticed a small bird coming and going, in and out of the flower pot of red vinca.

“I wonder if there’s a nest in there,” said Mom while sipping her morning coffee. “When I watered it yesterday, I noticed a big hole, but I didn’t think anything of it.”

A little while later when I didn’t see the adult bird around, I peeked into the pot.  When I moved a stem of the flower, I saw movement and then three wide-open yellow beaks, hoping I had a juicy insect to drop in.

With excitement, I ran inside to announce to everyone that there indeed was a nest and there were baby chicks in it.

Last summer on my yearly visit we watched goslings of a Canada Geese couple.

My visits to the lake are spent hanging out on the back porch talking with my family.  Nature moves around us every day, and we never seem to have the time to really pay attention.  This nest of Carolina wrens (it took some internet research, a bird book, and consulting a bird expert to know what kind they were) entertained us and helped us focus on what’s really important: life, love, and family nesting.

Can you see the mama bird? Babies are right underneath.

DigiLitSunday will be back on July 9, 2017. In the meantime, take time to enjoy the sunsets.

Poetry Friday is with Carol at Carol’s Corner.

My writing group has decided to explore a book on writing poetry this summer. We chose The Practice of Poetry edited by Robin Behn and Chase Twichell.

I have been thumbing through and randomly choosing an exercise to try. On pages 51-53, Susan Mitchell’s exercise is titled “Experience Falls Through Language Like Water Through a Sieve.”

We write poems about what we can’t articulate, but feel pressured to say, which is why poems use language in unusual ways…And often, metaphor and simile may be a poet’s only means for capturing experience in its rich complexity.
Susan Mitchell in The Practice of Poetry, pages 51-52

She explains that when we use metaphor, we often write ahead of our understanding. When I write poems, I connect to a deeper part of myself, one who I don’t know as well, one who reveals more of myself to me.

In this exercise, I read one of the suggested poems Milkweed by Philip Levine and decided to use its form to inform my own.

Remember how
we sat in a field of clover
picking handfuls of white bursts
tying stem to stem
to make crowns, bracelets,
necklaces. We’d promenade
among the pine trees
overlooking Purple Creek,
curtsy,
loop our arms,
do-see-do
through those carefree
days of summer
that meant nothing
to anyone, even us.

Yesterday I walked my dog
through a field of clover.
While he stopped to sniff
and leave his scent, I watched
the clustering blossoms
sway and bow
to the coming
of a summer shower.

–Margaret Simon, after Philip Levine, all rights reserved

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for the Slice of Life Challenge.

southern hollows podcast

When I imagine a southern hollow, my mind takes me to a sunken clearing in the mountains or the woods… a good spot to build a bright campfire — and tell a story. But the more I explore the history of my part of the world, the more I come across a new kind of southern hollows: men and women missing that bit of conscience or soul or whatever you want to call it that lets us see, and feel, somebody else’s humanity. And though many of the stories are little known, they often have shaped history, and are definitely stories we ought to remember. –Stinson Liles

My cousin Stinson grew up in Jackson, MS later than me. After college he moved to Memphis, TN. He lives there now with his wife and two teenagers and runs his own advertising agency. I was taken by surprise about a month ago when I saw in a Facebook post that he was embarking on a podcasting adventure called Southern Hollows. You will read about how this came to be in my interview with Stinson, but until you listen, you will not know the deep, unique voice he inherited from my uncle, a strong tenor the memory of whose solo of Oh, Holy Night still gives me chills today.  Not only is Stinson’s voice appropriate for the telling of these stories, his writing is intriguing and inspiring.

When did you come up with the idea of starting Southern Hollows?

History and non-fiction are my favorite to read, and for a long time I’ve thought about a book project—writing one—and even had some outlines going. I’ve been listening to more and more podcasts as the number of them have grown – and have discovered some great history ones. As I listen, I constantly have found myself thinking of stories that would be great topics for these shows. Then, after the election, when I needed a hiatus from current events for a while, I set out to find more shows like these and realized there wasn’t anything out there that combined those two approaches – covering formative periods of American History in a more thoughtfully written way with some slightly higher production values. There are lots of people out there doing interviews and conversations — but not many who are wrapping historical moments up in an impactful tight little story package. So that’s when I got the idea, late last year, for Southern Hollows. 

And why?

So that’s an interesting one that I’ve even asked myself. I’m not sure why I’ve become increasingly interested in Reconstruction and Native American removal and all these times when we as a country weren’t our best selves. As I got going on the podcast, (my wife) Patty asked the same question. She said the listeners need to know what it is and why it is. So I went back and added the intro (found in the quote above).

To tell you the truth, I think we’re at a moment when we have a lot of trouble with history. Confederate monuments, voting protections… I’m not sure why we are so eager to intentionally misunderstand the past. We as Southerners, especially, have trouble knowing what to do with it. As humans, we all need ancestral lore. But when our ancestral lore is slavery and Jim Crow, we only have two choices – confront it or reject it. I think it’s hard to say segregation and the Civil War and the Night Riders were abominations because that means Grandpa was an abomination and – even harder – we lose our ancestral lore. We become unmoored from our own identities. We take on guilt not only for loving our family heritage, but for loving sausage gravy or linen suits or Great Aunt Gussie’s quilt. You’ve got to be very intentional to separate them, and I don’t know that a lot of people can or do.

And when we don’t allow ourselves to see and feel the horrors of our ancestors, we run the risk of repeating our worst history.

While Southern Hollows is a history hobby project for me, it’s also got some importance, I think. I hope we all can benefit from a white Southerner owning and sharing these stories of inhumanity.

How do you research the stories?

Since the goal is to do two a month, I can’t do the kind of primary research I’d like. So my general approach is to find a story that fits the bill, then read a well-researched book or two that aggregates a lot of the primary research. I try to give lots of credit to those authors, and even share links to their books.

How is writing a podcast different from other types of writing? Or how is it the same?

It’s funny you ask, because I didn’t think it would be that much different, but it turns out is very different. For obvious reasons, it’s a lot more like writing a script than an essay. I love to write in long complex sentences – those Winston Churchill type structures that a lot of times don’t resolve until the end. But while that kind of writing is useful in a history text, it’s both confusing and unnatural when spoken. So I’m writing them more and more with a storyteller’s ear, with fragments and interjections and lots of em dashes. I don’t want to lose the polish and intensity of the content that makes it different, but I don’t want the distraction of an overly academic or inauthentic voice.

Any advice for teachers for using podcasting in the classroom?

Part of the vision for Southern Hollows emerges from the evidence that people allow themselves to be desensitized to inhumanity – laying it out there naked is the work.

As long as students are old enough to be exposed to inhumanities like lynching (and the holocaust and other comparable historical human tragedy) I think mine would be appropriate.

As a marketing executive, incidentally, I read a lot about podcasting as an emerging advertising medium, and one of the key reasons is that millennials (and younger) have grown up consuming multiple media simultaneously. It’s why they get bored with documentaries and have huge trouble with books. Podcasts are a medium being embraced by younger people because they can listen as they do other stuff. It’s the preferred way to consume information-rich content. 

I highly recommend Stinson’s podcasts for many reasons.  The stories are interesting.  The content is forgotten or lost history.  And the style of Stinson’s writing and speaking are well-crafted.  You can subscribe to Southern Hollows on Stitcher and iTunes or directly from Southern Hollows website. 

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I know, it’s summer and who wants to think about problems during summer?  I didn’t expect to, but I do enjoy having more time to read.  I’ve been reading Dynamic Teaching for Dynamic Reading by Vicki Vinton.  This book was chosen for the CyberPD book for July. To follow the discussions around this book, tune in to #cyberpd and Michelle Nero’s blog Literacy Learning Zone. 

In Dynamic Teaching, Vicki sets us up to think more about the complexity of and the authentic purpose for reading. She leads us into the problem solving process for students when reading.

 

It’s one thing to read theory in a professional book, but quite another to see the theory play out in your own life.  I started reading Orphan Island by Laurel Snyder.  This book is intended for middle grade students, the students I teach. Immediately in the first chapter, I have to enter into the process of solving a problem.

Jinny heard the bell.  She threw down her book, rose from the stale comfort of the old brown sofa, and scrambled to the door.  When she burst from the cabin into the evening air, Jinny ran.

I can assume from the title of the book that Jinny is an orphan.  This first paragraph makes me think she is at camp.  A bell rings, and she runs from the cabin.  As I continue to read, though, I find clues that she is not at any camp I’ve ever known.

My purpose for reading is heightened.  I have to figure out why Jinny is at this camp.  Who else is there?  What happened to her parents?  Reading only this first chapter, I am full of questions.

It is time to honor this process of problem finding and problem solving with our students.  How could I set my students up to do this?

  • What do you think is happening?
  •  What are your questions?
  • Why do you want to keep reading?

My summer reading has taken on a different dimension.  I’m not only reading for understanding, but I am reading to find the problem.  Where can I apply this problem to my teaching?  How do my students find problems?  How do I present problems that will interest them enough to solve?

I have found a problem that interests me.  In fact, it came in the mail.  I think it’s from someone in the CLMOOC postcard exchange, but that in itself is a mystery. I received a postcard with a snippet of text glued to the back.  The instructions are to create a poem out of the text, black-out style.

As you may be able to see, I’ve started underlining words in pencil.  I haven’t committed to any of them yet.  The fact that I have to black-out and send the postcard back with some sort of meaningful text selected has heightened this problem from one of mere play to a serious thoughtful process.   How can I take this experience and apply it in my classroom?  I want my students to both play with language and see the serious potential of making meaning with words.  Wouldn’t it be interesting to send a postcard to each of my students with these same instructions?

Problem seeking leads to problem finding to problem solving.  This is the way of language in reading and in writing.  I invite you to contemplate problems in your own literacy learning and teaching and link up your blog post below.