Reflections on a Writing Year...

I read this morning that globally, 2011 was as stinky as a teenager’s bedroom, so maybe it’s just as well we are about to put a lid on it. It must be said though, it wasn’t all bad; it’s never is completely one way.

From the perspective of this little blog, it was quite a good year. I want to spend a little writing time reflecting on the fortunes of Living Life Twice…

I am pleased that this humble attempt to support my fellow teachers of writing has been so well received since its inception in 2008. The readership has grown steadily- this makes my heart sing.

I want to sincerely thank those of you who drop by regularly and take the time to leave a response. Your time investment is most appreciated. The feedback informs me, guides me and sustains me. Particular thanks to Linda at teacherdance, Deb Day, and Elsie who regularly drop by. Thank you also to those of you who have tweeted and emailed across the year.

Thank you to guest bloggers Elaine Hirsch and Lindsey Wright for their respective contributions this year, -new voices adding to the mix.

Thank you to those of you who have purchased copies of my book, 'Igniting Writing-When a Teacher Writes.' Your generous support has been heart warming. The book continues to spread out into new frontiers. It is currently undergoing an update, with additional sections being added.  An international book fair in Amsterdam next year is beckoning., so I am in for a busy summer of writing, - and rewriting.

I am going to take time over the Australian summer to read, write and relax. I will continue to be an explorer of my world, harvesting ideas and collecting notebook entries. Like so many of my colleagues I need to restore and recharge, so the pace of my life will consciously slow a little over the coming days and weeks. Remember, not everyone who meanders is lost!

So what does summer hold?

Family time and beach days
Catch up time with friends
Deeper reading and sustained writing
Watching cricket
Listening to music everyday
Daily writing opportunities
Some painting and photography
Rewriting an updated version of ‘Igniting Writing’
'The occasional bottle of wine' (Jimmy Buffett quote)
Adventures
Discoveries
Surprises

In 2012, I look forward to presenting at the VATE (Victorian Association of Teachers of English) Conference in April. ALEA (Australian Literacy Educators Association ) National Conference in Sydney in July

Working with Critical Agendas (professional learning providers) to spread the word about effective writing programs

Working with Hawker Brownlow Education, to present a series of writing workshops and continuing my on going consultancy work across schools including a project in Hamilton, Victoria on students and teachers using writer’s notebook

Stay safe blog followers. May your writing efforts be rewarding and may ideas flow to you freely. Best wishes to all for a happy and rewarding 2012. If you drop by, please leave a comment. Visitors are always welcome here...

Slice of Life Story -The Sound of Whistling

I was sitting in my favourite coffee fix café, Via Boffe’ yesterday wandering through some recently written notebook entries, whilst slowly savouring a cappuccino. The café was packed and pulsing with caffeine desperadoes’ A waitress ask me, ‘How do you get inspiration when it’s crazy like this? I glibly replied, ‘I bring it with me.’ I should have more accurately admitted inspiration has its own magic and can take place at any time, anywhere. It’s a matter of whether one is ready to receive it…

I became aware of a sound, an altogether foreign sound in a café -a sound, not unpleasant, but a sound not to be denied. A high lilting sound that swirled through the tiny café like smoke wisps. -not Mini Ripperton high, but high nonetheless. Where was it coming from? I turned in an effort to find its source.

A bald headed man wearing a mostly white t shirt and fawn jeans sat at the front window seat; a place I frequenlty covet when I come to the café. He was whistling, quite loudly, yet pleasantly. On his lap sat an open newspaper and next to him on the shelf facing the window was his coffee. He whistled with the same joy as a bird of the forest. I have to say I have never heard someone whistle in a café in living memory. I felt a sense of dislocation.  It was strangely intriguing to watch and listen to his tuneful whistling. The tune totally unfamiliar to my ears wafted around the café. Somehow it evaded the attention of the other patrons for no one appeared to notice the orchestra of the lips all around them. Conversations were not halted, nor heads  turned (except mine) Café staff continued to go about their appointed tasks without any hint of a whistle stop. I don’t see dead people, but apparently I am the only person who hears café whistlers! 

Presently, whistling man paused to take a sip of his coffee and thumbed through a few pages of the morning news. He rhythmically tapped the bench-top with his fingers.  I turned back to my notebook and feverishly scribbled some notes about this small yet compelling moment in my day.

A short time later, the whistling refrain started once more and with feeling, so I turned for a second time, listening actively. The second concert was noticeably shorter, but just as entertaining.  As I listened to his tuneful virtuosity, I found myself revisiting an earlier experience almost nine years ago to the day in a place on the opposite side of the world, and in another season …

‘Standing at a rather forlorn Brooklyn bus stop directly opposite a funeral parlour had me thinking that the street itself was a cause for grief.

The wind blew along its full length and slapped me squarely in the face. The bus shelter offered little respite from the icy blasts it carried. I was too cold to bother reading the advertising hoarding. And anyway, it hadn’t changed for months.  I wrapped my coat more tightly around me, sunk down into my scarf while jamming my gloved hands into my coat pockets. I felt no warmer for these efforts. Winter plays the part of a bully so convincingly at times. Above the swirling wind, the traffic growled as cars and trucks negotiated the intersection.

I stood in this miserable place along with three women. We stood in silence, bracing ourselves against the bitterness of the day. I was counting down the freezing minutes, willing my bus to arrive.

…And then I heard it. -Faintly at first, but discernable as whistling. Where was it coming from this sweet sound in such a god forsaken place?  It floated above the sounds of winter misery. I realized it was coming from somewhere behind me. I turned to see a tall, thin, elderly man. He was leaning against the wall of a corner deli, directly behind the bus shelter.  A bag slung over his shoulder gave me the impression he was journeying home from a day at work somewhere. He wore a cap made of a stocking type material and a coat that appeared no match for the weather of the day. -His long narrow face reminiscent of the legendary Popeye.  His whiskery face masked in a grey sheen. I kept taking momentary glimpses, not wishing to lock onto to his gaze for fear of making him feel conspicuous, uncomfortable. 

The sound of his whistling rose gently above the wind, the traffic and the surrounding ugliness. It spiralled through the wintery air, embracing my consciousness. He was whistling the sounds of the season. ‘Let heaven and angels sing.’ I had never heard whistling like this. This man made a nightingale sound raucous.  -The rawness of the day surpassed by the lyrical sound of his whistling. I stood silently, listening to this stranger and found myself successfully shutting winter out.  I wondered if the other people were as absorbed as I was at that moment, by one man’s whistling….’ Do you hear what I hear?’  If the beauty of the whistler’s notes were reaching their hearts, their faces failed to reveal their inner joy. They stood like Easter Island statues throughout the entire performance.

The bus arrived just as he launched into ‘Deck The Halls.’ We all eagerly climbed on board. I stood back so that I could get a better look at whistling man, as he boarded the bus. The bus was mercifully devoid of crazies and we all sat in relative peace. I sat opposite the whistling stranger and wondered how he had learned to whistle with such virtuosity. What made him decide to whistle Christmas carols in that drab and depressing place? I’m glad he did of course, but it was a delight I had not expected. I had approached that bus stop contemplating a battle with winter’s freeze and found myself moved by one man’s attitude to life. The simple act of one man’s whistling had refocused my energies.  As I departed the bus near Grand Army Plaza, I passed by the whistling stranger and placed my hand on his shoulder. I thanked him for his beautiful whistling. ‘Thank you sir,’ he replied. ‘Thank you so much’ He offered me the bonus of a smile.

As we went our respective ways, I think we both felt warmed. I was glad that I spoke to him. I could have easily sat in my seat, wrapped in silence, but then he would never have known what pleasure his whistling had provided. Hopefully he will continue to whistle, and others will enjoy the simple pleasure I enjoyed.

Music is all around us just waiting to be heard. Sometimes you hear it in the most unlikely settings and in quite unexpected forms too. The simple act of whistling is a spirit lifter, no doubt in my mind anyway. From a wintery Brooklyn street to a tiny Italian café in Mornington, Australia, it makes no difference- the effect is the same. The spirit is lifted by the sound of another person’s joy.  Power to you, whistlers all…

Summer and the Joyfully Literate Teacher…

The end of the Australian school year is rapidly approaching.  At the conclusion of every school year the need to tie up a multitude of loose ends prior to the summer holidays is paramount. It is a demanding time
However, I am equally aware there is a period of time looming on summer’s horizon when tired educators will have time to relax and regenerate their energy reserves.- A time for relaxation, holidays, family and recreation.

May I suggest that summer holidays present a fantastic opportunity to embrace your inner writer and launch your very own writer’s notebook?  If you have already made this decision - I applaud your actions. What a wonderful investment in your role as a teacher of writing!

Many teachers read extensively during vacation breaks. Free of the pressure of the classroom, it is possible to indulge in more personal reading; becoming re-acquainted with favourite authors; reading  that book you received as a gift.

It seems to me that at this point it makes perfect sense to add a little writing alongside your reading.  If you accept this challenge, it will mean that when the new school year begins you will have compiled a sampling of text that will assist you to model aspects of writing to a fresh group of students. It will give you immediate writing credibility with your students. You will have captured summer memories, made lists, gathered artefacts, made drawings, gathered photos, capture small yet significant moments. Such action will assist you to connect more easily to your students. You will assume the role of a teacher who writes, enabling you to teach writing from the inside. This is far better than trying to get kids to do something you make a conscious choice to avoid.  Your credibility plummets like a wounded duck!

Don’t wait until the school year begins. It will be too late then and you will be overwhelmed by a tsunami of administrative demands and organizational matters –you get the picture, I’m sure.  The world is full of people who are full of good intentions. The challenge is to turn one’s self into a real life action hero! 

Just as you want your students to make a good start to the school year, you should expect the same for yourself.  I’m not suggesting you write to some rigid schedule, just quarantine a little time to document some of the rich pickings of your summer. It will be a great investment in designing the writing curriculum – and it’s painless! I am not suggesting that you dedicate yourself to just writing about summer exclusively. As always you should focus on matters that are important to you. Maybe your reading may spark your writing, who knows?  

There is no better time to send this message. I need to reach you now while you still have your educators cap on. Hopefully, it isn’t pulled down over your eyes and your hands aren’t over your ears.

This summer, don’t just dive into the surf. Dive into some writing. -Approach writing in the same manner that one approaches summer reading. The writes of summer could provide the stimulus to launch a fabulous school year in 2012!  I can’t offer a free set of steak of knives with that, but I know it comes with certain intrinsic rewards.  Should you choose to accept this mission –share this joyous news with your colleagues!

As a writer, I love this time of the year. It affords me precious time to read and write. Time I don't have to steal. When the fog of the academic year fades away, my writing comes to the fore. I embrace it eagerly, knowing it will take me to new places and present new discoveries.  

Good luck with your projects. May you experience a joyfully literate summer.