Markings

A relic unclaimed, no name

Left on the art table today

Blob of white glue and something

Looking like the iris of an eye

Black marker scratchings, cut up

Orange paper pieces placed but not

Pasted on the red rectangular page

The remains of a free form session

With scissors and creation like

The shed skin of a snake or

Wind markings in sand dunes.

The Insidious

A melting night so pleasant
A smell linked to the past
A walk to supermarket
Through thick din of cicada
Caressed by gentle sneezing
Of the occasional breeze
Walk Past sick men and women
Gazing in far out ways.

Lionhearted Marvel

Born wild, made tame
Joined a disk race of lame ladies
And gentlemen.

Bought. It.

Must find the way back
Through an otherworldly art
Form without norm.

This could be the last secret
Revealed unto you.

This could be the last forest
You will walk through, merrily.

Make. It.

Make it yours and give it away.
Dance more and slump less
Sit on a stump and grunt some, Son.

The Sun as a lion now
The Moon a lioness.

The sunflower bloom proud and bold--
The exquisite fucking clouds.

Oh lionhearted marvel of the flowering plants.

"My Mind Is Not Loose Enough For Ms. Pacman"

Last night I played my best game of Ms. Pacman ever, on the 1980 machine at the Video Saloon (a local bar). I advanced to the third pink level after the stork brought a second baby. Tracey Trance was witness to this epic performance, and we were both shocked to find that eating the "energy dots" no longer had any effect on the ghosts in this new and strange pink world of the Ms. Pacman universe, a world we could only guess about before last night.

After that game I asked myself, "why do I love playing this silly video game so much?"

Today I can think of 2 reasons:

1)The Practical reason -- I realized that playing the game actually provides training for my job. During last night's game Tracey Trance kept saying things to me like "you gotta maintain field vision" and "know where every ghost is at all times." The children in kindergarten are like the ghosts in the game, running wild and loose through the labyrinth of their imagination or all around the playground. My role is to remain aware of each one, know where they are, maintain field vision, and not get in their way. The Ms. Pacman game trains me in this way.

2)The Mythological reason -- The backstory tells the universal tale, and from a woman's perspective: Woman runs from ghosts seeking fruit and "dots" for nourishment, meets a suitable male and falls in love, then gives birth by way of a stork. She is Isis falling for Osiris and giving birth to Horus.

And why oh why is it called "Ms. PacMAN" and not just "PacWOMAN?" We will have to consult Hanz Bronze for the answer to that question, methinks.

Building A Box Maze

We built a box maze last week with about a dozen giant boxes that were in the school's recycling. We covered it with paint, chalk, tape, fabric, and reflective mylar paper.

It was used as a dog house, a spaceship, and a dog spaceship.

One of the children said today, "I wish we could build a box maze everyday."

I do to -- but they just take up so much space. We will do it again sometime though. There are always big boxes lying around.

Fairy Garden

Reading some other great teacher blogs turned me on to the concept of the "Fairy Garden." We worked on ours today, using a rickety old wooden chest I found laying around the school garden. I planted some thyme and we added various stones, wooden craft rounds, fake ferns and flowers, soil and sand. Some of the children started making little tipis and fairy homes as well.

Tomorrow we'll add some acorn jewels and write a "message" for the fairies and see if they respond...

If Porcupines Grew Poppies...

Ode To Winslow Woods

You are a miracle oh Forest
Left alone to die and grow
For many years in the neighborhood
They call "Little Appalachia"

Towering Tulip Poplars
Old Oaks standing over
Sinkholes and patches of Paw Paw
Mature enough to fruit

Huge vines climbing over everything
Some half dead half alive
Beech trees carved with the initials
Of young kids wild and in love

A home to Pileated Woodpecker

A place to walk the dog

A family of deer passing through

Children learn to build a shelter
Learn the names of trees
Mushrooms and wildflowers
While playing at "Wonderspot"

Families grill out on the edge
Celebrating birthdays and they are
Aware of you and your mystery
Even if they never enter

You are an unlikely gift oh Forest
In these foul times of waste and
Nature hating - you and your 30 acres
Are the heart of our community.

Paint It Red

Elijah's dad drove away in his jeep, leaving Grandma to watch him for the afternoon. It was a gorgeous day. Elijah played quietly in his sandbox, very focused on measuring precise amounts of sand after putting it through a sifter. Grandma sat close by in a lawn chair, pestering him with questions, testing him on his numbers and colors, repeatedly interrupting the flow of his play.

-- Do you like being four? she asked.

No response.

--Do you like being four years old?

--No! Elijah shot back assertively.

--No? Why don't you like being four?

(He walks away towards the driveway)

-- I don't like being four. I'm gonna take your car away, he said.

--You're gonna take my car away? But you're not old enough to drive, protested Grandma in the whiniest voice.

--I'm gonna drive it. And I'm gonna make it black.

--How you gonna do that Elijah? Paint it?

--I'm gonna paint it. Paint it Red.

(He starts to walk away again)

-- Where are you going? Come here Elijah. Look at these berries I have. Now are they blueberries or raspberries?

(He ignores her, keeps walking)

-- I'm tired of you, said Elijah with much sincerity.

-- You're tired of me? Well that's too bad, your stuck with me. I'm watching you. You don't have a choice, said Grandma, obviously taking his comment very personally. Then she shuffled him inside as the sun shot spears of glorious light all over the backyard.

You need to learn to be patient, Chris

Several weeks ago a child in one of the preschool rooms who loves the Beach Boys asked if I could play Surfin' USA during our music session. So I learned the song and we turned it into a fun dramatic play game with everyone pretending to balance on a surfboard, wipe out when a big wave hit, and paddle out on our tummies like real surfers do.

Of course the kindergarteners took this activity to another level when I presented it to their class. They used the large unit blocks as surf boards and acted out more complex scenarios in between my renditions of the song. Then about half the class really wanted to take the game outside, which we did.

We had even better blocks on the playground to use as surf boards and it just made more sense to "surf" outside, even though we are many miles from the ocean here in the landlocked Hoosier state.

They really wanted me to surf too so I joined them while the other half of the class played a baseball game. It took a long time for the "surfing" to get going though, as the children decided they needed to wet down their boards with their water bottles. "Alright, let's get surfing" I said. "Wait!" someone shouted, "we have to take our shoes off. Surfers don't wear shoes." Right. So we took our shoes off. " Now we're ready to go," I said. "Wait! Our boards are dry again (it was a hot day). We need to wet them down more," another child shouted.

This went on for quite some time, with me trying to get the game going and them continuing to make more preparations. I was getting noticeably impatient, especially as I began to hear arguments starting up in the baseball game on the other side of the playground. "We need to get surfing now," I said with a more firm, teacher voice. Then one of the surfer girls
said, "you need to learn to be patient, Chris."

She was absolutely right. Patience might just be the most important virtue for a teacher of young children to cultivate. I realized that all of the setting up for the surfing game was an important game as well, perhaps more important than the actual surfing. And I suppose if any of the children find themselves really surfing in the future, patience will be very important.