Engaging a child’s creativity–and your own–can happen almost any time or anywhere.  Years ago, I studied improvisational acting, which encourages actors to listen closely to one another and “find the game” in a conversation.  Bringing these ideas into parenthood has produced wonderful interactions with my son, who is three years old.  As he’s been learning and exploring language, we’ve invented a few of our own call-and-response games.

One game began suddenly as we were driving.  From his car seat, he mischievously called out, “Mama, you are a tree.”  Seeing an opening for a game, I responded “If I am a tree, then you are a small green leaf.”  Delighted, he offered several more “You are” statements to see how I’d respond.  This “You are” game, in which he calls me an object and I call him something connected to that object, has become a way of understanding relationships and creating metaphor.  Occasionally, he’ll disagree with my metaphor and offer his own, as in a recent exchange:

“Mama, you are sweet chocolate milk.”

“If I am sweet chocolate milk, then you are the cup that holds me.”

“No!  If you are sweet chocolate milk, then I am the one who drinks you!”

Also, learning that some comparisons can be perceived as insults has let him to be more descriptive and specific, moving from “You are a baby” to “You are a sweet baby” to “You are a sweet little baby that I like to keep in my pocket.”

Simple games like these are fun, easy ways to transform mundane events, such as waiting in line, into moments of silliness, learning, and poetry.  Why not try the “you are” game with someone you care about?

posted by Tria Wood, Writers in the Schools

[photo by hleo via Flickr]

When I was a child, I loved watching TV programs such as “In Search Of…” and “Ripley’s Believe It or Not!” Each one tantalized me with stories of impossibility. While I wasn’t entirely sure that I believed in, say, the Loch Ness Monster or ghosts, the very idea of these creatures ignited my imagination. In fact, I wrote an embarrassing number of unicorn poems when I was in junior high.

I find that many children share that fascination with the mysterious, carrying on the age-old tradition of swapping ghost stories at slumber parties or daring each other to summon Bloody Mary in the bathroom mirror.

Recently, I decided to capitalize on this interest in improbable creatures by asking my students to write poems from the point of view of a being or creature that most people say does not exist. Students suggested a great list of possible subjects they could speak for, including ghosts, Bigfoot, mermaids, elves and La Llorona.

The idea of writing from another being’s point of view is intriguing; you must convincingly capture the voice and ideas of someone or something completely outside your normal range of experience. I emphasized to my students that these poems must be a way for these beings to help us humans understand their lives. These could be greatly detailed, such as descriptions of the lengths a rather annoyed Bigfoot must go in order to keep away odious humans that want to pester him, or simple, such as Margaret Atwood’s “This is a Photograph of Me,” written from the point of view of what seems to be a ghost.

Here is one student’s response to the assigment:

Martian

why must people be scared
why can’t they see me
maybe because I’m just made of sand
I will walk till I find out what’s wrong
the Mars Rover will someday be found
I will be known
I will be found
I will meet the people at last
they will know about me
I will meet the water the Earthlings have
I will not just be sand and dust
I will be water and life

by Caroline, 3rd grade

["ghost" photo by Daniel Schwabe via flickr]

posted by Tria Wood, Writers in the Schools

The hardest thing for a writer to do, I’ve always maintained, is to face the daunting white landscape of the blank page. And yet we WITS writers ask our students to take on this fearsome task with each classroom visit. For rising to that occasion, I thank these young writers whose work populates this blog.

Readers, you play an important role also. I am grateful and proud that there are so many who visit A Poem A Day regularly to read the work of our intrepid young writers. Writers aren’t much without readers. Thank you for coming here to read these poems and stories.

Even better, so many of you faithful readers have cared enough to comment on these young writers’ creations, providing encouragement and support as well as appreciation. I want to thank our commentors especially for taking the time to make this blog into not just a publication, but a conversation about young people and their work. The community at Totally Optional Prompts, including Tumblewords, Paisley, Gautami Tripathy, Crafty Green Poet, Linda Jacobs and Mariacristina, has been incredibly supportive through their commentary and deserves a hearty virtual pat on the back as well.

Today is Blog Reader Appreciation Day 2008. Thanks to all of the readers and writers who make A Poem A Day possible. Pardon the pun, but quite literally, we wouldn’t be here without you.

posted by Tria Wood, Writers in the Schools

Sometimes even the best writers need a springboard – an idea just big enough to give their imaginations a boost into the air. I’m always excited when I find a great new “springboard book” to use with my young writers. Here are two of my favorites.

I recently discovered the delightful book 17 Things I’m Not Allowed to Do Anymore, written by Jenny Offill and illustrated by Nancy Carter. This book’s rambunctious heroine17things is full of schemes that seem like a good idea at the time, but invariably get her in trouble. “I had an idea,” the book begins, “to staple my brother’s hair to his pillow.” The facing page says, “I’m not allowed to use the stapler anymore.” Through this simple structure, the main character shows us sixteen more brilliant ideas she’s no longer allowed to pursue.

Although the illustrations give us some idea of the girl’s actions and their consequences, the beauty of this book is that it allows the reader to fill in the narrative, giving us plenty of room to imagine exactly what happened as a result of the main character acting on her rather impish ideas. After my third grade classes read this book with me, they were eager to write about the main character’s adventures–and given a starting and ending point framed by the book’s structure, they were confident in filling in the rest. Some were even inspired to continue this theme by writing their own fictional misadventures.

mysteriesofharrisburdickA book that serves as a more sinister jumping-off point for young writers is The Mysteries of Harris Burdick by Chris Van Allsburg. Each surreal black-and-white illustration is accompanied by only the first line of a story. Young writers are intrigued by the slightly scary mood of the book, and are given enough information in the first line to begin to construct their own stories. The resulting mysteries, ghost stories, fantasy and science fiction tales also give young writers a chance to recognize and employ elements of each genre as well as expanding their imaginations into impossible realms.

tria

posted by Tria Wood, Writers in the Schools

One of my high school WITS students was killed in an auto accident last weekend. She was in class for only about half of my visits, so try as I might, I can not bring forth a steady image of her face from my memory. As her English teacher gave me the sad news, I froze. In my hands was a folder of poetry that she’d written. It had some very good pieces in it, with my encouraging notblue butterflyes written here and there on her work, saying things like “Strong start–keep going!” and “Interesting… I want to know more!”

The teacher photocopied her work so that I could include some of it in the class’s anthology; she’ll give the originals to the girl’s family. As I thumbed through the girl’s work, I saw that she had written about how much she loved her mother and grandmother, and I was glad to know that they would be able to see it. As a coping exercise, the teacher had asked her students to write a short essay describing what they would do with their lives if they knew that they would be dying soon, and almost all of them wrote about how they’d hug their families, apologize to their families, tell their families that they loved them. Many don’t do any of this now, they explained, out of pride, guilt, or fear. Typical teenage reasons. Typical adult reasons, too, I suppose. I thought of this girl and how, whether she’d told her family her feelings out loud or not, at least now they’ll have them on paper. They’ll know that she wanted to keep her mother and grandmother with her forever if she could, and how fondly she remembered the smells of her grandmother cooking breakfast. They’ll know the beauty she saw in herself, in her own beautiful brown skin.

Several weeks ago in this class, we had discussed the Edna St. Vincent Millay poem “Childhood is the Kingdom where Nobody Dies.” Of course this conceit is wishful thinking; people die in children’s lives all the time, the students reminded me. From their writing, I know that this is true. Many in the class have lost one or more parents, siblings, cousins and friends, and seem to accept this as par for the course. As children, they were already sitting at Millay’s table with growing numbers of the silent dead. I am lucky to have had so few losses in my own life so far, they tell me, and I agree. This, they tell me, is what their lives are like: sometimes people flash out quickly, and you can’t spend too much time on grieving because if you did, it would never end. “It’s better to deal with death when you’re young,” one student explains, “so that it can’t hurt you as much later. So that you can be prepared.”

But her death hurts me deeply. I feel guilty that I can’t clearly remember this girl’s face, frustrated that she wasn’t there long enough to be cemented in my mind, tremendously sad that all I have of her is her carefullytria looped handwriting. But I am grateful to be able to pass this gift of her writing on to the family she loved, who will be able to see just how much she truly loved them.

Posted by Tria Wood, Writers in the Schools
(photograph by Luisa Cruz via flickr)

Every Valentine’s day, I feel laurenlevyinundated with images of hearts. Construction paper heart cutouts decorate classrooms and hallways, and it feels as if I can’t walk into any sort of shop without being bombarded by floating balloon hearts, candy-filled cardboard hearts, ceramic cup hearts, tiny candy conversation hearts, stuffed fabric hearts. In all their material glory, these saccharine proxies for love never adequately reflect the complexity of what our own hearts contain.

And so it was that about two years ago, I was delighted to see a beautiful untitled sculpture by native Texas artist Lauren Levy which featured a red button heart that bloomed pencil stubs. The inspiring play of delicacy, strength, preciousness and the everyday enchanted me; this image had captured something of what my heart really felt like.

I kick myself every day for not finding a way to purchase that sculpture. However, this artwork did inspire me to ask my young writers what they imagined their own hearts could be made of. With some consideration, these writers produced Valentine-themed poems much more interesting –and dare I say, more heartfelt– than the stock “Roses are red, violets are blue” Valentine chants. Here is one young girl’s response:

My Heart’s Expressions

My heart is a quiet room
filled with candles. My heart
is red and pink unique
buttons. My heart is a tiny
egg wanting to burst out,
with sounds of little baby
puppies whimpering for milk.
My heart is a pocket for
people I love. My heart is
a place for red juicy punch.tria
My heart is a purple silk
ribbon waiting to be untied.

by Audie, 2nd grade

posted by Tria Wood, Writers in the Schools

“I have an existential map; it has ‘you are here’ written all over it” – comedian Stephen Wright

There’s something about maps that appeals to the imagination. Maybe it’s the expanse of unknown places beckoning to us, or the comfort of charting what we do know from a different viewpoint. Making maps can help students think through a variety of writing challenges. Because maps are representational, they seem to invite metaphor-based poetry. Mapping emotions, families, or one’s own brain are particularly inviting prompts for poems. Maps of one’s room, home, or neighborhood are excellent prompts for memoir pieces; the more detailed, the better. The act of drawing the map’s elements, along with pondering their spatial relationships, allows students to develop their thoughts in a different way, and makes for more descriptive writing.

As an extension of the Poetry Monster prompt, I asked my third grade students to draw maps of the countries where their monsters lived. In drawing these maps, these young writers created geographical and cultural contexts that helped round out their Poetry Monster characters. The written descriptions of the maps also became the basis for the settings for their stories. Below are two different approaches some students took to this prompt:

My place, my secret place, is called Horinasin. Horinasin has only prisoners, current rivers, Everest waterfalls with pure water, a flower ofhorinasin illusions, a forest of echoes, a famous old terrorizing Book of Death, and perfect hills. It is always freezing, with icy winds, and the sun is frozen. Also, the lake of horrors contains fast alligator groups and poisonous snakes. There are only five dungeon rooms; the rest of the prisoners have to sleep on the floor. The dungeons are made out of hard, cold rocks of cement. The prisoners eat stale bread and cold, freezing brook water from the Current River. They don’t have any celebrations. And the only one who freed himself—we don’t know his name.

by Victoria, 3rd grade

To get to the Lost City, you have to use all your imagination, but think of happy things, and BOOM, you’re in the Forest of Wishes, where you find treasure. Then you walk straight and get to the Tree of Wonder, map of the lost citywhere all your thoughts go in and come back with answers. Next, you see the Lake of Books. You put your hand in and think of a book you want to read, and take your hand out, and there it is. Then you can walk out and see a mine with a jewel, and you take out the jewel. You walk straight up and see the city made out of pencils, paper and books. When they turn red, you follow the path and see the most delicious fruit. After you take one bite, make a wish, and you’re in the Maze of Wonder. Once you get out, you see a big tree that takes you to the mayor, who is Mona Lisa’s dad. You ask where Mona Lisa is, and he will show you where her room is. She has a huge closet which is filled with a ton of pretty clothes, and she has a machine that you press a button and it changes the weather. And when you want to leave, you just take a bite out of the fruit and wish.
by Zoe, 3rd grade

For more mapmaking ideas, try Sara Fanelli’s My Map Book (also mentioned here), which presents an array of imaginative maps that appeal to young children. Also, a triateacher in one of my classroom placements recently shared with me her much-loved copy of The Atlas of Experience, a thought-provoking volume of emotional maps that would appeal to older students and adults as well.

posted by Tria Wood, Writers in the Schools

 

Teachers work carefully to cultivate their classroom spaces, establishing small communities that each have a unique culture, personality, rules and consequences. Experienced teachers have tried and true methods for working with their students, and I have picked up many new skills just by watching the teachers with whom I’ve worked.

When I enter a new classroom, I try to be conscious that I am in another teacher’s territory. I want to be respectful of their space and of the way things work in the particular community that has emerged in their classroom. Even though I may approach the subject of writing in different ways than they do, ideally, we find ways to work together so that the students can get the most benefit from my presence.

Oddly enough, the novelty of my presence alone seems to make a great deal of difference to some students; hearing old information from a new person makes a bigger impact. A new face can provide a surprisingly new perspective, helping students make a firm connection where they’d struggled before, or helping firm connections become even stronger. I’m sure you can imagine how a classroom teacher’s voice might gradually turn into the infamous “woh-woh-woh” white noise of Charlie Brown’s teacher. There’s not necessarily anything that the teacher is doing wrong–it’s just that it’s human nature to tune out the familiar.

Sometimes, I get to experience the phenomenon of how a new face or a new space makes a difference for my students as well. Recently, one of my elementary schools visited the Menil Collection Museum to take a writing tour of the collection with several other WITS writers. I was delighted when WITS writer Yolanda showed me a poem that one of my students had written on her tour. Cole has always been an imaginative writer, but with Yolanda’s new perspective, he had taken his work to the next level: stars in motion

Tick tock goes the clock.
It strikes twelve. “Bum bum
bum,” goes the man with
the stars. He lets them go–up up
up they sail. I can hear
the man in the moon crying “Here
come the stars!” I can see
Pluto turning into a duck. I can
sense all people sound asleep.
I can feel the wind wipe
my feet. I feel so graceful as
the night goes by. When day
rises, I go home with a sigh.

by Cole, 3rd Grade, Briargrove Elementary

(Photo by Fort Photo via Flickr)

To me, this is part of what WITS does so well: we bring new faces, new perspectives, and new ways of approaching writing to young writers. In Cole’s case, I think the results are absolutely breathtaking!

posted by Tria Wood, Writers in the Schools

Good reading makes for good writing! Here are three books I love to bring into the classroom to engage young writers’ imaginations.

if coverIf by Sarah Perry, is a simple text with fantastic illustrations. Using ideas such as “If cats could fly…” and “If leaves were fish…” the book asks its readers to use their imaginations to ponder the possibilities of small changes to the world we know. These ideas are a great jumping-off point for young writers. I like to ask them to write stories about one day when they wake up to find one small thing has changed about the world, and the big differences that one small change can make.

my map book cover My Map Book by Sara Fanelli is a collection of surprising maps drawn with a childlike sense of the world. Using the concept of “map” rather loosely, Fanelli shows us not only maps of her neighborhood and her room, but also maps of her family, her tummy, and imaginary places. Young writers like to draw their own maps in response to this book; these maps help them focus on an idea for writing about aspects of their lives.

wilfrid gordon cover Wilfrid Gordon McDonald Partridge by Mem Fox is the story of a boy who tries to find out what “memory” is so that he can help his friend, an elderly woman, who he hears has lost hers. After being told that a memory is “something warm,” “something that makes you laugh,” “something that makes you cry,” “something from long ago,” and “something as precious as gold,” he assembles a box full of items that he hopes will fit the bill. I ask my young writers to create their own “memory boxes” that are filled with short memoirs about an item they have that fills each category. This helps them see how even small objects can contain and represent powerful memories and emotions.

There are so many wonderful children’s books out there that can inspire writers at all levels. What are your favorite children’s books, and how have they inspired you?tria

posted by Tria Wood, Writers in the Schools


Above: a performance of Giant Bugs 2 by Chicago 4th grader Michael Breen

The Striking Viking Story Pirates of New York City celebrate children’s writing by turning their stories and poems into live musical performances with costumes, puppets and professional actors. What a great way to show appreciation for the creative genius of young writers! You don’t have to be a New Yorker to be part of the show, though. Any young writer can submit a story.

I love that these performers are so committed to preserving the spirit of the works through their acting. While some of what they do is quite funny, at the same time they are completely sincere in their interpretations of the children’s work, celebrating its intentional silliness while reveling in its earnestness. The result is utterly charming.

An easy way to bring performance into a writing class is to ask one writer read her or his story aloud while other students act it out. With young writers, dramatizing original stories is not only entertaining; it can also be a wonderful tool for learning writing skills such as pacing, dialogue, and revision. By noticing at which point in the story the actors get confused, a young writer can figure out what spots of the story may need elaboration. This can also become an opportunity to develop class cooperation and communication, as documented in the work of Vivian Gussin Paley and Patsy Cooper, whose books are well worth reading for anyone interested in children and their stories.

There’s an amazing triasense of accomplishment that a young writer feels when seeing her or his work on “stage.” Performance can become a fabulous aspect to add to almost any writing environment!

posted by Tria Wood, Writers in the Schools

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