Slice of Life Story Day 31 Lasting Impressions

As this is the last day of the Slice of Life Story Challenge for March 2011. it seems appropriate to focus on the word ‘last.’ I am conjuring up all those connections to ‘last.’

I am pleased that I was able to last the distance, to meet the challenge of writing and posting a writing slice every day, despite the all the other demands on my time. Because this is the last posting for the month I will miss the internal machinations of my sometimes scrambled mind as I ruminated on what to write each day. The rehearsal was continual. It was stimulating. Words and phrases tumbled around in my brain, like clothes in a dryer. I played with ideas until at last I settled on my script. Then I sat at the computer and the words spilled onto the screen.

As I continue to ponder the meaning of last, I think of children being picked last for a team, The Monkees singing, Last Train to Clarksville. And then I think about lasting memories, last but not least, last one home’s a purple pig, the call of last drinks in a hotel just before it closes. The condemned man thinks about what he would eat for his last meal.  These are not the last thoughts about last though!

I can hear it now. -The call at JFK airport that always used to aggravate the pedant in me when they announced repeatedly, ’This is the last AND final call for passengers travelling to (name a destination).’

Think about how annoyed we become when people change plans or change their minds at the last minute. Then think about the sense of elation when the last piece of the puzzle falls into place.

Custer’s Last Stand, Mao’s Last Dancer and who will get the last laugh? How much longer will this last? And who will save the last dance for me? What will be my last resort? Last night, last one, last chance…

Well, at last we have come to the end of this challenge and once again it has been such a worthwhile challenge in which to be involved. I have met new writers and given and received feedback. My horizons have been extended as I have read about the lives of others in areas far removed from mine.  As much as we are different, we share a sense of community and fellowship. Happy, sad, weird and wonderful ideas have been shared through our respective postings. Once again, the journey has been a hoot! 

Not last night but the night before, I came up with an idea for all those slices from the past three years. I am placing them into a book, rather than have them hidden away on my computer. I have titled the book, ‘Slices From A Life.’  This is not the last thing you will hear from me. We’ll see who has the last laugh!

                                                                                                                                        

Slice of Life Story Day 30 Stickability!

During the week I walk as often as my work schedule allows. On the weekends I walk each day. On a recent walking excursion as I walked with my wife, daughter and two dogs, we chanced upon something shiny on the footpath as we walked along the main street past the shopping precinct of our home town, Mornington. Jane stooped to pick up what we now identified as a two dollar coin. ‘Wow’ she said, ‘My lucky day.’

She made several unsuccessful attempts to pick up the coin and then a sad realization that the coin could not be pricked her balloon of joy. Someone in an inspired act of lunacy had super glued the coin to the pavement. What wickedness lurks on the idle minds of men?  We offered up a half laugh before continuing on our way. Was the perpetrator watching from a concealed vantage point? Were they chuckling away as successive passers by failed to lift the coin so steadfastly fused to the surface of the pavement?  The old super-glued coin trick! This was straight out of Get Smart…

Today, as I drove to work listening to my preferred breakfast announcers, the word ‘superglue’ was again brought to my attention. The voice on the radio said somewhat blithely, ‘Did you know the man who invented superglue died yesterday? He lived a fascinating life. I once bought a book about his life and when I picked it up, I couldn’t put it down!

Seriously though, on Saturday it was announced that Dr Harry Coover, the inventor of Superglue, the super sticky stuff that makes things stick to other things had died at the age of 94 in Tennessee.

Superglue was actually an inspired invention because once you open it and use it, that’s it. It’s effectively only able to be used once because whatever is left in the tube instantly hardens and seals the lid permanently, necessitating the purchase of another tube of the stuff that sticks. Now isn’t a great example of planned obsolescence? That sort of knowledge tends to stick in your brain as well.  

Slice of Life Story Day 29 Going Round The Bend Over Bananas!

Today I’m going bananas! Well, not literally, but bananas have been on my mind. You see, the cost bananas has skyrocketed here in Australian since Cyclone Yasi struck the state of Queensland’s northern regions and decimated up to 80% of the nation’s banana harvest.

The cost of bananas has rapidly reached $14 per kg in some places, or $4 each. As a consequence, many fruit lovers are holding off buying this perennially popular fruit. Who can blamed them? I have always loved bananas. You could say I have a bent for them, but that would be too obvious. Yet, in recent weeks as the price has steadily risen, I have had to be strong and walk past them in shops and supermarkets. I heard someone recently refer to bananas as God’s chocolate. Well, even with that noble label, I still can’t justify the purchase.

So bananas are off the menu for the foreseeable future, which is sad. I know how good bananas are for my health. Bananas have a curious way of capturing everyone’s imagination.                                                                                                                                                                                                                     
I am fully aware that bananas provide a sustained and substantial boost of energy - that’s why they remain a favourite of athletes looking for a quick source of carbohydrate. Until recently, I have been in the habit of reaching for a banana when I return from a walk or when I come home from work. Not anymore.  Another member of the fruit family is going to have to step up and present very soon. No more picking up a banana, putting it to my ear and taking a pretend phone call from someone (works a treat with grandchildren). Banana humour is over for now. The cost is not something to laugh about.

I recall my Dad telling me when I was a small boy that he actually knew the man who had the job of putting the bends in the bananas. The gullible lad that I was just said, ‘Oh really?’  ‘Yes,’ replied my Dad, ‘It certainly keeps him busy.’

 And finally, I leave you, dear reader with this point to ponder,   -Is it right to refer to two banana peels as a pair of slippers? Maybe I am going bananas?

Slice of Life Story Day 28 Today I Have A Sneaking Feeling

A small six year old boy came to visit with us on the weekend and during his time in our care, he is taken shopping. He returns beaming because he has a brand new pair of shoes. He also has a pair of rainbow coloured laces. The kind that announce themselves with colourful intent. He asks if the everyday laces that came with the new shoes can be removed and replaced with the dazzling rainbow laces. This wish is achievable.  The new cool shoes are now really cool shoes in the eyes of the wee one. He parades back and forth looking continually at his feet as he steps out like a fahsionista.  I tell him he is now a confirmed fashion icon. He smiles that slightly uncertain smile that kids do when an adult says something slightly beyond their world of awareness. He changes the focus.
‘My feet have grown Papa,’ he informs me, ‘And my old sneakers are too worn out for winter.’

‘Well, these new ones look great.’ I add assuredly.

New shoes always lift the spirits. New shoes at any age are a source of inner joy. Comfort and style linking  to create the perfect combination. Sometimes it is a short quest and happens quickly. Sometimes you do a lot of sole searching before you find shoe heaven.

 He tells me that his new all black shoes will be great in the winter as they won’t show the mud. He is shoe proud. I like the thinking. Throughout the day he cleans away the slightest speck from the surface of the sneakers. This is an impressive start. It won’t last. He is after-all a small boy and as a small boy he will have other priorities to attend to in the days and weeks ahead. Priorities that will relegate cleaning and preening to the end of the adventure queue.

This buying of new shoes had me thinking –poetry! I can’t believe I have got this far into this year’s writing challenge without sailing off in the direction of my favourite genre. Today, my oxygen comes directly from the changing of the sneakers…

Sneaker Look

Discarded sneakers

Scuffed and mangled

Laces frayed

Twisted

Tangled

Both lay rejected by the door

They‘ll not see action any more

No more housing smelly socks

Running

Leaping

Scrambling rocks

The sole is smooth

Colour faded

Worn out torn out

Dejected

Jaded

And worst of all

On each sad shoe

Is a giant hole

Where a toe pokes through

Their value has at last diminished

Sad to say

-Their sneaking’s finished

Alan j Wright

Slice of Life Story Day 27 Tail of a Dog

Our little black dog, Boo has no concept of weekends, or sleeping in on Sundays. She understands when its morning and the blanket of the night has been drawn back. She certainly understands the basic concept of dawn. Round about 7.30am each and every morning her patience ebbs away and she begins what basically amounts to harassment.

 Boo makes it patently obvious that she wants the people in her life to rouse themselves from slumber and take her for a walk. Walk is the word we dare not whisper. She raises from her bed and begins circling ours. We lie perfectly still in the hope that it will pass for sleeping. The dog is smarter than that.  She snorts and snuffles as she completes circuits of the bedroom. Each circuit requires her to travel beneath the bed not an easy thing to do, given its low clearance. Try feigning sleep when a small determined dog is buffeting your bed from beneath. So we succumb and throw on the necessary clothes to meet the uncertain morning air. Boo rounds us both up like we are sheep, pushing, nudging and rushing around us, barely able to contain her excitement.

They say a dog’s tail is directly connected to its heart. Boo is living proof of this. Her tail signals her absolute delight that a walk is imminent. It twitches like a metronome in overdrive. She scampers downstairs to the door and awaits the arrival of the sleepy humans as they grab hats, and money and phones and shoes in readiness for the bracing morning air of this particular Sunday morning.

And so the day begins in earnest; a brisk walk with a dog who has singlehandedly nudged us into regular morning exercise.  Head down, tail up, Boo sniffs at the trail of delights as she charges into the distance. She then pauses momentarily, before running back to join the laggers. All the time her tail of delight continues…

Slice of Life Story Day 26 The Days of Summer Recalled

Summer Story Video Finally Completed!  Today, a Slice with a Digital Difference...

This morning I finally finished my digital story! I have gradually assembled the pieces of the summer past into a form that hopefully conveys the spirit of the season. No matter where one resides, there are commonalities surrounding summertime. There are also events unique to our respective parts of the world. What I now share with you is a glimpse of my summer.

 I wanted to tell the story of my Australian summer –what there was of it. A summer of record rain, gloomy grey skies the colour of bruises and the all too infrequent beach days. The days we naturally savoured. Sandwiched between these extremes were the unforgettable memories of precious moments spent with family and friends. Each day I tried to find a scene, a moment, something seemingly unnoticed to freeze in time with my camera. The photogrpahic eye and the eye of the writer hopefully working in synch. The photos captured with camera and iphone and the essential experiences of the summer season, are included in my summer slice. Hope you like what you see and see what you like…

Slice of Life Story Day 25 Writing In Different Directions

I had some great conversations with Grade 5 writers today. They were keen to share their writer’s notebooks and the various pieces that were forming across the pages of their notebooks. One girl informed me she was writing about her memories of the toys she had when she was younger. She opened her notebook and turned to a page which had the somewhat impressive title emblazoned across the top, - ‘The Headless Barbie.’ I then spoke with a boy writing a persuasive piece about the perils of smoking. The title was a very direct one, - ‘Smoking Should Be Banned.’  A third encounter revealed that the writer was working on a graphic novel concerning a boy who was part robot. No title yet, but the author informed me that he was not worried. The title would come to him as he wrote. I liked that fact that he was confident and relaxed about this anticipated development. He knew that the important thing was that he had an idea and was pursuing it. The title would happen in good time.

Three different writers, three different projects underway, but in each situation the writer displayed a sense of ownership and direction. This was a differentiated classroom. The teacher was not trying to control writing and learning. Instead she was more intent on creating the conditions that would allow learning to occur with support and guidance.

I recalled the words of Mary Ellen Giacobbe, who some years ago wrote, ‘In the most predictable classroom environments, the most unexpected things can happen’  As I wandered among the writers, the teacher quietly conducted her roving conferences, guiding, suggesting, redirecting and teaching. Trust is at play here and the writing is taking off.

Slice of Life Story Day 24 Routines and Rituals of the Working Week

Our lives are often punctuated by routines and rituals…

Every Thursday morning our alarm goes off at 5.20 am, a time well before sparrow’s fart (a quaint Aussie expression) and in the gloomy darkness Vicki and I commence the longest working day of our week. We aim to be on the road by 6.30 am. We drive from our home on the coast, 60 km south of the city, to schools on the western side of Melbourne. We join the morning commute and negotiate our way through the heart of the city and beyond. The Thursday trip takes between 75 and 120 minutes. We mostly take one car and attend separate schools within the same school network. At the conclusion of the working day we don’t drive home. Instead we regularly stay close to the city so that on Friday morning it only requires a short drive for each of us to work at two different schools. This routine enables us to support four schools over two days. On Friday we drive home. –A trip that usually takes about two  and a half hours. Everyone is trying to leave the city at the same time it seems.

Today is different though. We need to take two cars unfortunately. Public transport is not an option, and so we duplicate the travel trek. Not environmentally desirable I’m afraid.  At the end of the school day Vicki will present a professional learning workshop for teachers within our work network. The workshop, one of a series, will run for two hours commencing at 4.00pm for teachers of Prep (preparatory) Grade students ( In America- kindergarten. In some places –reception). Vicki’s day will end at 6,30 pm when she gets back to our rental apartment. It’s a long day given the early start.

Thursdays and Fridays are heavy haulage days in our week. What makes these days so worthwhile is the reception we receive in our respective schools. The work is both challenging and rewarding. Once you arrive, you forget about the early start and the frustration of the traffic. The smiling faces of students and their warm greetings make the demands of our early start all worthwhile. No pain, no gain.

Slice of Life Story Day 23 In A Manner of Speaking

This morning while in  my favourite coffee haunt, Via Boffe Vicki the barista asked me a question. With a look that suggested something was concerning her, she posed the question, ‘Alan what do think has happened to manners? Everyday, I encounter people who don’t seem to think it’s important to acknowledge your presence when you speak to them. When a customer comes in, I make a point of greeting them with a smile and a welcoming comment and some of them just ignore you. They don’t even make eye contact. They disregard your words and tell you ‘I‘ll have a skinny latte, or how much are they? -and point to something on display. It’s like you don’t exist.’

Vicki is consistently upbeat, possesses a welcoming disposition and a ready smile. In short she has impeccable social skills and is always friendly. She also makes a great coffee. She readily connects with peopIe, so I can readily understand her frustration when on a daily basis she encounters people who place a low value on civility in public situations. ‘What have we as a society done to create this?’ Vicki then asked. Her genuine concern touched me. ‘It’s not young people. Often it’s older people who you would think would know better- but they don’t!’ she continued.

We talked about a range of possible reasons for this apparent breakdown in standards of social intercourse without finding one root cause.  

I assured her that in schools we work hard to create a sense of awareness of the importance of using good manners, but you only have to watch television or observe the way people behave with their phones to see that sections of our communities now operate in a different way. The models provided by many adults are less than edifying.  The rights of the individual prevail above all else it seems. Rude, overbearing, impatient people seem to have a disproportionate effect on the lives of the socially able. Being polite and pleasant has evaded many, unfortunately.

Vicki’s discomfort stayed with me throughout the day. I recalled an experience I had in a shop in Brooklyn when I first moved to New York…

I had been in the habit of frequenting a wine merchant on Seventh Avenue while living in Park Slope, Brooklyn. On four separate occasions I entered the store with high expectation of discovering good wine and maybe encountering staff with a desire to provide a level of service that would make one feel at the very least, comfortable. My dreams did not eventuate. Yes, the store had some excellent wines from which to choose, but on each occasion I managed to get through the entire purchasing experience without the person behind the counter uttering a word to me. One on occasion the attendant spoke to someone else on their cell phone about a third person who was supposedly a real loser. I left and the conversation continued without further interruption.

On another occasion the two people serving me (I use the term loosely, very loosely) conducted a mostly inane conversation and managed to not to look at their customers once. Miraculously, they managed to get the purchases right and apportion change correctly. As I walked out I instigated an instant boycott on that particular establishment. It didn’t matter how good the wine selection was, they just didn’t give a rat’s back cavity about customer service.

I wonder if this was just a case of not caring about individual customers because there were plenty more to take my place. Or was it just a case of poor training and low expectations on the part of management? poor education?  poor social skills? -Maybe it’s a mix of all those things. My Dad used to stay, manners cost you nothing, but they are worth so much. Hmmm?

IGNITING WRITING -When A Teacher Writes RELEASED

IGNITING WRITING -When A Teacher Writes

Thank you to all those who have responded to the release of the book. Your comments and support are greatly appreciated. The publisher, Hawker Brownlow takes on line orders and shipping is available for local and overseas buyers.

If you wish to place an order:

Web: www.hbe.com.au

Email: orders@hbe.com.au

Slice of Life Story Day 22 Let's Hear For Ears!

Ralph Fletcher reminded me of the fact that we write with our ears as much as our eyes and minds. I was unconsciously attending to this in my writing and teaching of writing, however Ralph’s articulation of this important fact made me more consciously skilled. When we write with our ears, we become aware of the sound of language, the rhyme and rhythm of language and the impact of words uttered. We are more likely to connect the words that float our way with prior knowledge.  

When we purposefully attend to this important fact, we add an extra dimension to our lives as writers. Teachers and students aware of this fact may be more prepared to shift the focus from the what (subject/meaning/ content) to the how (language) in their teaching and writing lives.

Armed with this information I launched into my workshops today with School leaders by playing a song. I asked participants to attend to the lyrics. I directed their attention to those words and phrases that stood out for them. Those word threads that commanded their attention –and demanded to be held in the mind of the listener. I asked them to write down the selected words and to think about any possible connections. Why these words? What was their power? What was their significance to you as a listener?

 For the purpose of the exercise, I selected Canadian singer/ songwriter Bruce Cockburn’s song ‘Last Night of the World.’  For me Cockburn’s rich lyrics were perfect for this type of activity. He is a keen observer and his writing possesses a strong poetic thread. – And at the end of the day, I really like the song.

They listened intently, and quietly made notes. At song’s end I invited them to turn and talk about their notations.   The room instantly filled with rich conversations. Many made strong connections, often based on a single word. It was a powerful reminder of the power of active and conscious listening. I wished we had been able to explore this more extensively.  If time had permitted I could have challenged them to each ‘lift a line’ and use it to generate a piece of writing.

Hopefully, they will now understand the significance of writing with the ear. Many indicated they wanted to share these insights with their teaching staff. I hope this message reaches classrooms.

I explained how I gather so many ideas by eavesdropping, gathering snatches of conversation and listening to the wondrous and infinite combinations of spoken words. The structure of language informs each of us as writers; its patterns, its quirks.

My workshop continued. The point had been made. I remain grateful to Ralph Fletcher for his disclosure about ears…

Slice of Life Story Day 21 A Day of Firsts For Book and Boy

Today I drove to Lorne situated on the southern coast of Victoria to attend a school leader’s conference. My trip involved a two hour drive plus a 45 minute ferry ride across the bay. I stopped off at Anglesea, another coastal town, to enjoy a leisurely lunch with friends. It warms the heart to catch up with friends. I then completed my journey along the

Great Ocean Road

to the surf coast town of Lorne.  As I reached Lorne Vicki rang from home to inform me that copies of my new book, ‘Igniting Writing- When A Teacher Writes’ had arrived. I have not actually sighted a copy yet. Reading a pdf version is never the same. It’s that old issue of download versus hard copy.

Upon arrival I checked into my accommodation then walked across to the convention centre. Large glass doors opened automatically and I stepped forward into the foyer. Various conference sponsors had displays set up around the perimeter. Directly in front of me was a table adorned with books from Hawker Brownlow Education and the first book my eyes fell upon was my own. What an unexpected joy this turned out to be.  It was for me, a special moment. The culmination of eighteen months of solid writing had finally come down to this moment when I reached out and picked up the physical representation of that work. It is now a reality and hopefully its reception will be favourable among readers.

The afternoon key note address was still in session, so I as stood there in comparative solitude, I enjoyed a moment of quiet satisfaction. It was as if I had discovered a secret that no one else knew…

Our lives are full of first times. I spoke on the phone to one of my grandsons late this afternoon. He whistled successfully today for the first time. Aged six, this was his special moment. Bird Boy is born.

Slice of Life Story Day 20 When A Writer Travels

This coming week I am presenting at a conference for school leaders. I am discussing their roles in the development of effective writing programs in schools. What is there contribution to effective writing? Are they visible as writers to their staff, students and parent community? Do they have secret reading and writing lives?

However, that is not what I wish to focus on here. As I sit here on this delightful Sunday afternoon preparing for the conference, I am aware of two suitcases open on the floor of my study. One is my Poet’s Suitcase where my collection of poetry books is stored. The other, I call my suitcase of surprises. The latter suitcase is the one I generally take on my daily journeys to schools. It is a small inexpensive case I purchased on

Seventh Avenue New York

for the princely sum of $25 back in 2006. I spotted it in one of those variety stores that carries assorted paraphernalia ranging from junk to jewels. It has been such a great resource, although it is beginning to look a little tired of late. I may have to put it out to pasture before this year ends I’m afraid. It’s okay though, I think I have another one stored in the loft.

When I enter schools dragging it behind me teachers often joke that I look like I’m heading for the departure lounge. Inside the case I carry assorted professional texts, novels and picture story books, numerous writer’s notebooks, folders, my netbook computer, pens, sticky notes and various artifacts. The contents change regularly depending on the school I am visiting and the particular focus of my work that day.

For the benefit of teachers and students I often extract something from the case that they have not seen before, hence the name suitcase of surprises. Sometimes it’s a new book, or maybe an artifact I hope will arouse curiosity and questions.

The other suitcase (My Poet’s Suitcase) is much older; having belonged to my grandfather. This one has no capacity for free wheeling and so I am forced to lug it about when I take it to schools. Containing up to100 hundred poetry books, it is extremely heavy. But, because it belonged to my Grand-dad it has special significance. I sometimes refer to it as my poet’s playstation. It is adorned with stickers and is a curiosity in itself. I reveal its contents with deliberate ceremony.

 As I prepare for the conference, I am assembling resources for my workshop presentations. What to take? What to leave home?  We all have baggage. This is mine...

Slice of Life Story Day 19 Reading The Morning News Is A Challenge

Early this morning I heard a faint thud in the driveway and a car drive by. As I lay in bed, suspended between sleep and awareness, It dawned on me that what I was listening to was the delivery of my Saturday morning newspaper and not a body being dumped from a moving vehicle.

I rarely hear it being delivered. It just seems to materialize when I venture out into the dawning of the day to fetch it. The news comes tightly wrapped in a thin veneer of plastic. Every morning unwrapping the newspaper becomes the first major struggle of the day. I search with unfocused eyes in the half light for a loose flap of plastic that will allow me to release words within. Much to my annoyance, the plastic wrap clings defiantly to the paper, and time ebbs by as I fumble like a sub human life form for the elusive key that will allow me to unfold the secrets within.

 I mumble and bemoan the need to tease me so unmercifully. I suffer a short bout of 'why me?' and begin to think about how much I dislike excessive packaging.  I might as well be wearing mittens or worse still, boxing gloves. I cannot for the life of me locate a starting point in this plastic hellwrap. There is not the slightest possibility of anything unravelling apart from me! I am not an animal!  In the end I concede defeat and reach for a sharp implement…

The knife slices effortlessly through the plastic and the morning news reveals itself. Let the reading begin!

Slice of Life Story Day 18 Let’s Hear It For Wonderful Words

Writers collect words. It is almost compulsive. I have always had a fascination for words.  If we can get the right word in the right place, you can give the reader a nudge and make then pay extra attention. For this reason alone words deserve our respect.

I recently saw the word –skedaddle in a story. It’s a word I recall from my childhood, but I had neither seen or heard it for yonks (an indeterminate yet substantial period of time). I love the sound of skedaddle. I have been sharing it with young writers recently in the hope I can singlehandedly revive its use in common conversation.

I vividly recall reading Colin Theile’s wonderful short story ‘The Lock Out’ to a Grade 6 class I taught some years back and coming across the words ‘agog’ and ’gingerly.’

 I wrote them on the board, and we discussed them and savoured the sounds they made. I encouraged the students to try and use them in their writing. In time these special words along with others began to appear in their writing. They grew like flowers. Magically bursting through into the light,- blossoming on the page. We developed a place for those special words we came across in our reading and discussion. We called the words ‘Wonder Words.’ It was a way of paying homage to the rich meaning these words conveyed

Another word that has always fascinated me is segue. It is common in conversation but largely unseen in print. If you don’t believe me ask people to spell it and see what happens. They say a difficult word is a word we have rarely sighted. The word fuchsia is one of those words.

As I am sitting here writing this, I am looking at the  book shelves in front of me and a number of titles on display further reinforce the view that words are important to me.  Titles such as, The Word Spy, Lost for Words, The Superior Person’s Little Book of Words, The Boy Who Loved Words along with assorted dictionaries designed for writers, poets and those obsessed with rhyme stand as testimony to my ongoing love of words.

If I were to observe someone folding down an empty milk carton before placing in a bin for recycling, I would say that was an excellent example of tetramangulation. A rather pretentious word that refers to the act of folding down and reducing the surface area of an empty tetra shaped container. New word?  Absolutely!

The great thing about words is that they are constantly being invented. Sadly, words also fall out of use. Sometimes those words are well worth reviving. Anyway, it’s time for this writer to skedaddle…

Slice of Life Story Day 17 A Matter of Table Manners

So often the things we choose to write about are sparked by a comment or a line we overhear. Today I heard a teacher talking about ‘manners’ and asking a group of students, ‘Are good manners important?’  ‘Yes, of course one boy immediately replied. ‘Why?’ asked the teacher, wanting to take the discussion deeper. A discussion followed, notes were taken and eventually this group of students set about writing their own opinion pieces. Other groups discussed issues they had identified as important to them.  As I listened in on the ensuing discussion, I began to consciously connect to my own experience with matters surrounding manners.

As a parent I have always understood the importance of modelling good table manners. I don’t burp or fart at the table, I am conscious of my elbows not becoming aeroplane wings and over time I have learnt to eat more slowly and savour my meals. I still recall the constant reminders from my parents during my childhood to maintain acceptable manners. Parent tapes that still play in my head include:

‘Keep your elbows off the table. ‘

‘don’t speak with your mouth full.’

‘Don’t wave your knife and fork about’ 

and the classic, ‘Eat it all up, there are starving children in China who would give anything to eat this broccoli. ‘

I used to think, Well they can have mine. I never said it out loud. I was too afraid of the consequences of such a comment. Condemned to a month of broccoli eating maybe ?

My sister little sister was often accused by my father of playing with her food.

She would create such a mess with her food when she was learning to eat that my father would suggest to my mother that consideration should be given to feeding the tiny food flinger in the bath. That way,  at the end of the meal it would be easy to clean up.

I often upset my father by playing with the contents of the sugar bowl. The table was always set in the same way, with a table cloth, sugar bowl in the centre and bread and butter at the side. Knives forks and spoons were set out, as we often had ‘sweets.’ or dessert. The sugar was always there because my parents religiously drank a cup of tea at the conclusion of a meal and they both drank their tea with two spoonfuls of sugar. I would go excavating in the sugar bowl with the spoon whilst I listening to the evening meal conversation. On one occasion my father reached out to curtail my sugar mining, flicked the end of the spoon, and it suddenly spiralled through the air before landing on my plate. Sugar was scattered everywhere. My father told me it was my fault there was such a mess. He made it clear to me that the whole scene would not have happened if I hadn’t been playing with the sugar. I crunched over to the sink and began the gritty cleanup job. I never played with the sugar bowl again.

Slice of Life Story Day 16 A Community of Writers Begins To Emerge

Today I watched as a group of teachers shared some of the entries from their writer’s notebooks with students. They read from their notebooks and explained to the audience seated before them the inspiration behind the writing. They talked of connections and speculated on future entries. They displayed the pages of their notebooks and pointed out various pictures, and artifacts. The pleasure derived from the writing experiences of the teachers was most apparent. This was powerful sharing. They were setting an expectation for their students to follow. The writing is becoming a shared journey for teachers and students alike. All participants have accepted the challenge to write. I saw the genesis of a writing community in these scenes.

 I look forward to watching the progress as the school year unfolds.  Writing in this school has begun to move beyond the four walls of the classroom. Students are taking their notebooks home and finding a host of places to gather writing inspiration. One student was keen to show me a photo.  In the photo she is shown standing with her family at a sporting event last weekend. In the photo she is holding her writer’s notebook.  Writing has moved beyond something that you do for a teacher. There is genuine ownership of the writing life here.

A group of students were keen to have me look at their notebooks and where they were at in their development. They were proud of their efforts and the collected pieces I read were varied and interesting.  The energy around writing is highly visible.  I could not wait to share my uplifting experience with the Principal and further validate the great things happening here.  Good news deserves to be shared.

Slice of Life Story Day 15 Celebrating Words and Pictures When Reading Aloud

In picture story books the details of the illustrations create a cohesive picture that informs the reader in ways that the text alone can ever hope to do and for this reason it is important to teach students to read all around the page. Today. I was reading Anthony Browne’s wonderful picture story book , ‘Piggybook’ and I marvelled at the way the children seated before me listened and looked with obvious intent. Their enthusiasm for searching out all the details on the page inspired me to greater efforts with my read aloud. I savoured every word as it poured from my mouth. When we read to students we are performing a special craft. I found myself well and truly in the zone.

Anthony Browne’s book tells the story of the Piggott family. Mrs Piggott becomes tired of being treated like a domestic drudge by her unappreciative husband and sons. Without warning she leaves them to fend for themselves. That’s when the Piggott men undergo a most extraordinary transformation in their attitude as well as their physical dimensions. The clever illustrations show the gradual metamorphosis of the characters and their surroundings as the story unfolds. From the front cover illustration there is the symbolism of the mother effectively carrying the whole family. Rich discussion developed around this before I even began reading. Predictions and questions readily came from the think-pair- share that took place before I launched into my reading role.

As I continued reading I was taken by the faces of the students before me. Their eyes alive and alert, looking for clues and signs as I revealed each amazing illustration. The link between words and pictures was so cleverly interwoven with porcine references littered through the text.

‘When is Mum coming home?’ the boys squealed after another horrible meal.

‘How should I know.’ Mr Piggott grunted.

- And later, ‘Well just have to root around and find some scraps,’ snorted Mr Piggott.  

The students were clearly indignant regarding Mrs Piggott’s treatment.

‘They’re treating her so badly.’

‘They are not a sharing family.’

‘They are so lazy.’

“They’re behaving like pigs!’

The message from this text was coming through loud and clear. The children were able to identify the author’s message; the author’s intent.

I once sat under a tree in an amphitheatre in Darwin among a group of two hundred educators as Mem Fox read ‘Hunwick’s Egg.’ Mem held us under her spell as the words tumbled forth. Each one presented -special delivery. Words whispered, words stretched, words squeezed and words exulted. The magic of the read aloud was present in that place. It’s interesting how no matter how old we are, we love having someone read to us. It is a moment I will never forget. Thank you Mem.

Have you noticed how we read so much more passionately from texts we know and love? Over the last few years, Piggybook has become a touchstone text for me. Thank you Anthony.

* If you want to discover more about those powerful illustrating-writing connections I highly recommend, 'In Pictures and in Words-Teaching the Qualities of Good Writing Through Illustration Study by Katie Wood Ray.

'If teachers show children how an illustrator's decisions about pictures are a lot like a writer's decisions about words, they form a bridge of understanding that nurtures children as writers.'

Katie Wood Ray

Slice of Life Story Day 14 A Conversation Over Dinner With Friends

Last night we had friends for dinner and during the course of the evening I asked each person to name something they have never done that they assumed most people had done. Hmmm?

They thought about it for a while and then began to share their respective revelations. Initially some were struggling to think of something, so I offered to go first. I shared the fact that I have never seen the movie ‘Avatar’ despite the fact that it is the most watched movie in history. I have never read a Harry Potter book. I have never watched the immensely popular television show, ‘Master Chef.’

Suddenly our guests came forward with their own statements. ‘I’ve never drunk whiskey.’   ‘I’ve never been to Bali.’  ‘I have never eaten snails.’  ‘I’ve never smoked a cigarette.’ –and so it went.

It was all a bit of fun, and it certainly got the conversation flowing. All part of a great night in the company of close friends, sitting around a table sharing a glass of wine and delicious food. Simple pleasures shared.

Slice of Life Story Day 13 Today I Feel Testy!

I read an article in my newspaper of choice this morning and it encapsulated all that I have feared for so long regarding high stakes testing. Australia has followed the lead of America and gone down the path of high stakes testing in schools. Since 2008 national testing (NAPLAN) has been part of the educational landscape in years 3, 5,7 and 9. It is therefore no surprise to find a 2010 survey of Secondary schools found more than two thirds spent more time on test practice since the Federal government went public with the test results on a dedicated web site called My School.  Some schools have begun spending increasing amounts of time and energy ‘preparing’ students for NAPLAN. The outcome of this is the narrowing of curriculum options and more time devoted to teaching to the test. The problematic ‘test prep’ becomes the panic button by which many teachers operate. They abandon teaching in ways they know to be effective and begin a regime of practices that are soul destroying and just dont stand up to scrutiny about what we know about student engagement. 

Pressure from education bureaucrats to improve results begins to mount. Accompanying this is an ill informed political imperative to ‘fix’ schools. Politicians are the worst thing that can happen to a school system. This sad rhetoric starts to dominate the conversation that surrounds education. Too much reliance has been placed on a highly questionable assessment and schools are being judged on the outcomes resulting from this one off testing. Formative assessment is devalued or worse still not even considered. External assessment reigns supreme.

During my six years living and working in the US I saw nothing that convinced me that this approach works. Decades of testing don’t appear to have improved America’s international educational standing. It has however skewed the curriculum in the direction of literacy and numeracy while narrowing student options in the arts, sciences and humanities. Schools in poorer areas tend to be stigmatized and punished by this testing regime, and this further entrenches disadvantage. Testing reigns over the educaitonal landscape like a schoolyard bully.

The publication of league tables presenting lists of the ‘worst’ schools are great fodder for Rupert Murdoch’s New Limited media outlets. When I first saw this practice in the New York Post, in 2004 I was horrified. I was at that time working to support teachers in one of the middle schools so named. The efforts of that school community to improve the learning outcomes for students received a mugging that particular day. They were angry, demoralized, hurt and totally gutted. They needed a hand up and all they got was a kicking.

 In Australia, the federal government promised that this type of simplistic comparison between schools would not happen, but it is happening! Last week Murdoch’s Herald Sun newspaper (here in Melbourne, Australia) without compunction, published lists of NAPLAN results that compared the top five schools and the bottom five schools. Absolutely no consideration was given to their different profiles, their different needs. Many uninformed people will read this impoverished data and draw erroneous conclusions about the circumstances surrounding these diverse school communities. They will elevate the results of NAPLAN to a position it does not deserve.

I recall Professor Richard Allington, eminent educator and researcher stating in a talk at Columbia University, ‘Thirty years of research have revealed the startling fact that kids are different and yet we persist in making them fit the curriculum instead of the curriculum fitting their needs.’ How true is that?

Now that I’ve got that out of my system, I will return to cleaning our new windows and then enjoy the remains of the day…

Link to news article from the Melbourne Age 

http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/politics/labor-may-have-won-education-wars-but-its-a-pyrrhic-victory-20110311-1br8q.html