Democracy and THE LAST FIFTH GRADE OF EMERSON ELEMENTARY

Welcome this week to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by the talented Buffy Silverman Here. Be sure to stop by for a visit.

This month, I have been thinking about Democracy and what a real life lesson we are all receiving daily, and discovered this wonderful 2016 middle grade novel in verse, THE LAST FIFTH GRADE OF EMERSON ELEMENTARY, by Laura Shovan. It was waiting on my desk, actually. It seemed so relevant at this moment in history, that I wanted to post about it.

It is possible that the teachers on Poetry Friday have already read this, but maybe not. I hope middle graders are reading it and talking about it.

I was so impressed with the author’s craft: 18 memorable character, yikes! And all different, the use of different poetry forms to reflect character, and the engaging story.

A full discussion of the plot as well as an excellent teacher’s guide can be found here.

The main plot briefly goes like this: The Board of Education of Emerson Elementary wants to close the beloved school and the students are determined to stop it. The themes include Democracy and the right to protest.

Students protest with the following poem, which is a petition to the school board, recalling the words of our Founding Fathers in our Constitution:

PETITION
George Furst, Edgar Lee Jones, and Rennie Rawling

We the People of Ms. Hill's Fifth Grade,
in order too give a more perfect Understanding
of the importance of our student voices
here at Emerson Elementary,
seek to establish a Protest by our Classroom,
which hath Studied the U.S Constitution and Civil Rights,
to Provide our United opinion
regarding the fate of our beloved Emerson Elementary,
and Demand that the Board of Education
promote general Knowledge about its plans,
and share the Blessings of Facts
with ourselves and all Emerson
and Montgomery Middle Students.
Thus we do create and Submit this petition
to halt the razing of Our School
indefinitely.

Signed in Equality on this 6th Day of January.

In the study guide, the first question posed is this:

“Have you ever found yourself in a situation that seemed very unfair and you were unsure what to do about it? How did you handle it?”

This is exactly the question I have been asking lately. What can I do to have any impact given what’s going on in America today? But this book gave me hope that children are learning about the fundamentals of Democracy, and how important their voices are. The book is an opportunity to appreciate our rights as Americans, especially, the freedom of speech.

Thank you, Buffy, for hosting. I hope everyone is safe and anticipating with excitement the vaccine that just might restore our ability to be with friends and family.

Cows in Winter

Welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by Mary Lee at A Year of Reading. Thank you for hosting! Make sure to stop by to see what Mary Lee’s got in store for us this week.

Want to know more about Poetry Friday? Look HERE.

Going for a ride for pleasure has become a rather rare thing lately, as there are few places to stop. But this week my husband and I drove south of Syracuse on back roads. The snow was gently falling, and we encountered a few cows in a pasture. They stood like statues, stopped by the cold. Or maybe there was another reason they were so quiet. They inspired a poem.

COWS

Lingering
this morning,

hypnotized 
by snowflakes, 
that perhaps, 
like a swarm
of fire flies
at night, sparkled
in their eyes

or was it the grass 
all around
d i s a p p e a r i n g
in white?

© Janice Scully 2020

I hope everyone is healthy. I’m looking forward to the vaccine, which really is a truly amazing accomplishment, though we must be patient. My gratitude to all the brilliant scientists that are helping us get past this pandemic!

Pie and other Endings

Thank you, Carol, for hosting Poetry Friday on your blog this Thanksgiving week at the beginning of the 2020 Holiday season. Check out what she is sharing this week at Carol’s Corner!

I have a lot to feel thankful for. My family is well, there is a vaccine and a new government is being assembled. It’s like hearing hoofbeats of the calvary just as a battle is about to be lost.

When I took this photo of the pie I made today, I thought about endings beyond simply my dinner. 

ENDINGS

The end of a dinner
The end of the month
The end of a season
The end of the year
The end of a Presidency.
The end of veering away
    from the North Star
The end of believing it's the right course.  

© Janice Scully 2020

Today I spoke to a good friend who is a family practice doctor in the panhandle of Florida. He has many geriatric patients and is concerned about their safety as well as his own. A number of his patients have refused to wear a mask when they come to his office. I could tell it was exhausting for him to deal with just as Florida is on fire with Covid.

So, what will this ending mean? How persuasive will an empathetic and steady hand be? Is there a fast forward button to 1/20/21?

Thank you, Carol, for hosting! My best to all and a Happy Thanksgiving

Snowflakes

Welcome to Poetry Friday, today hosted by Linda Baie at TeacherDance. Thank you, Linda, for hosting!

Happy Thanksgiving week, even as many, including myself, won’t see their children. But I am happy to help the effort to control the pandemic. We’re all well and I’m grateful for that. I hope all of you and you families are well, too.

As Nero fiddles, thousands of families are insecure in so many ways.

When I looked out the window today, I saw snow brightening my yard. It took my mind in another direction. I wrote a poem and took a picture of the snow, but it wasn’t cheerful or sparkly enough to share. So I found a more cheerful graphic, something Snowflake Bentley might admire, with wildly diverse snowflakes:

Here is my poem:

SNOWFLAKE

I am a snowflake
I fall from the sky,
float down all day,
meander and play.

I whiten the grass
trees and the street
tickle warm faces
with wet chilly feet.

I am a snowflake,
hear my shivery sigh?
Winter begins when I 
fall from the sky.

©Janice Scully 2020

Wilson A. Bentley (1865-1931), aka Snowflake Bentley, was a farmer in Jericho, Vermont, who loved snow. He loved it so much that he became the first person to ever photograph snowflakes. He captured more than 5,000 during his lifetime, no two alike. Part of the challenge, I imagine, was to keep them in solid state while he photographed them. He lived and died where he grew up.

Below is a print I bought when I visited his red barn museum several years ago followed by two haiku. 

A Vermont farmer
saw something in snow--took it
quite seriously.


Did Snowflake Bentley
ever think that snowflakes
might be all the same?

Have a wonderful Holiday week. Stay healthy and safe! Thank you Linda for hosting.

A Peaceful Lake for a Tumultuous Time

Today is Poetry Friday and Robyn Hood Black is hosting at Life on the Deckle Edge. Be sure to stop by to see what she has in store for us. Thank you, Robyn, for hosting! I hope everyone is healthy and safe.

When I feel agitated, as I have been this week by yet more over-the-top political chaos, it helps to go outside and find peace in nature. Yesterday my husband and I went to a favorite place called Green Lake, a “meromictic” lake that is always a deep blue-green. It is protected by trees and so is usually calm, with trees and sky reflected photographically in its surface. The lake is 195 feet deep, created by a glacier long ago in the Finger Lakes region of New York.

What is a meromictic lake?

Briefly, it is a lake of three layers that never mix. Compared to the top surface layer, the bottom layer has a low oxygen content, a high salt content, and little light. A middle layer separates the two extremes. Depending on the oxygen, light and salt content, different organisms survive in the the three layers.

Most lakes, the great majority, are “holomictic” meaning that its surface and deep waters mix at least once a year. Meromictic lakes don’t mix because they are deep, have steep sides, and because the bottom waters are heavier, with salt. The Black Sea is the largest meromictic lake in the world.

I was there on a perfect fall day. The brighter leaves have fallen from trees around the lake, replaced by brown and rust colors. Beautiful changes. Here’s a haiku I wrote to share today. 

Meromictic lake--
like neighbors in a highrise
its waters find peace.

Our hike around the lake was peaceful as I hope our country will be, at least relative to recent times, soon.

Have a wonderful day and weekend. I hope you all find peace wherever you go.

Thanks again, Robyn Hood Black, for hosting! 


	


	





	

		
		
Vote by Mail
	


	
	
	

		






It’s Poetry Friday and today artist and writer, Susan Bruck is hosting at Soul Blossom Living.  Thank you for hosting, Susan! Be sure to stop by and see what she has in store for us.





It’s been a busy week! A week of worry and waiting for the results of this important election to be finalized. I’d like to celebrate not just November 3rd being over, but the fact that we take voting in America seriously.  I have been very impressed by those I’ve seen on TV who run state elections. They are amazing in their dedication at all levels. 










I was grateful that I could cast a ballot by mail. I did it weeks ago. I thought today about the founders. What we are really doing when we cast a ballot? Connect with the idea of America?  I wrote this to share: 





A 2020 WAKE UP


Thanks
to the
The U.S
Postal Service,
millions and millions
of Americans place
ballots in boxes, circles
filled in, sealed, and carefully signed,
aware, maybe not, that they struggle 
to jostle sleepy Founders from their beds.
 
© Janice Scully 2020





 For those who might not be familiar, though I know many who will read this are, this poetic form is and “etheree” and it’s easy to remember, and fun to write. All I needed is an idea and ten fingers. 





 It is composed of ten lines. The first line is one syllable and each line increases by one. I hope I counted right. Alternatively it can start with ten syllables and end with one syllable.  





Have a great weekend as we all await final results. We still have functioning institutions in America, and I hope with this election they will be stronger, still.





Check out the link above for Soul Blossom Living as you peruse Poetry Friday posts. Thank you Susan for hosting!   










 

	


	





	

		
		
Three Bird Haiku
	


	
	
	

		

Thank you, Linda Baie, for hosting Poetry Friday. Don’t forget to stop by TeacherDance and see what’s on Linda’s  mind this week. 










It’s the anxious time. States are trying to vote safely and struggling with the virus. I am trying to come up with small and more distant ways to acknowledge loved ones this holiday season. It’s just the way it is. We have to accept it. 





For this post, I dusted off three bird haiku. This first one was chosen as one of the poems to be paired with an artist for the SYRACUSE POSTER PROJECT in 2013. Artist Carolyn Glavin, a student at Syracuse University at the time, illustrated it, which I thought was perfect. The photo doesn’t do the artist justice, but it’s a charming painting that I cherish. 










cardinal, feathered
masked bandit on a snowy 
limb--all can see you





Here are two more haiku featuring  birds:





the black white and red
woodpecker pecks a metal
pipe--he doesn't know.





a sudden robin
among the forsythia--
orange in yellow light





Thinking about birds this morning has taken my mind off the election for a short time. Out my window I see bright orange and yellow leaves which brightens an otherwise cloudy damp day.  





To close, Happy Halloween 2020! I just read Lee Bennett Hopkin’s 1993 anthology RAGGED SHADOWS to celebrate. Inside these covers, as many teachers probably already know, are wonderfully eerie Halloween poems by legendary poets such as Karla Kuskin and Eileen Fisher and Valerie Worth. 










Enjoy the weekend and be sure to stop by TeacherDance for more Poetry Friday inspiration with Linda Baie. 

	


	





	

		
		
Hope for America
	


	
	
	

		

It’s Poetry Friday and make sure you check out Jama’s delicious offerings at Jama’s Alphabet Soup, here. Thank you so much, Jama, for hosting. 





Today, while working on an INKTOBER prompt,  I encountered the word “wisp.” (Notice I haven’t gotten too far down my list!) 










I had already written a short poem using the word FISH, which I’ll share:










HORS D'OEUVRE PARTY

Salmon paté
on plates painted with fish—
to the eye was so fetching 
some guests ate the dish. 







I like writing short and hopefully humorous poems, but when I came to the word WISP, I came up with something of a different tone. Today, I felt quite sad hearing the point of view of someone interviewed on NPR who had no hope. He’s not planning to vote. I understand, as best I can, why some, including many African Americans like the discouraged interviewee, might feel that way. But I hope he can change his mind.





I have several friends and family members who are painfully hopeful that things will improve. Painfully, because hope. though necessary, can make a person vulnerable. So those thoughts inspired a Golden Shovel poem. 





Here’s a link that describes the Golden Shovel form.  The last words in each line read vertically comprise are a quote from another poem. I needed a quote to use and also wanted poems with the word wisp for my Inktober prompt. I discovered poet Florence Maude. You can read her poem,  LITTLE WISP OF HOPE, here.  





In a previous post here, I mentioned British playwright Simon Stephens. He said that the only mature way to deal with tragedy is through optimism.  That requires hope. So I wrote this thinking of friends and family who are on the edge of their seats, maintaining hope, this election. 





TO MY FRIEND
A Golden Shovel Poem from a line in a poem by poet Florence Maude
“Little wisp of hope, I wish you would stay.”  



It seems that some, like you and me, other’s too, don’t feel in little


amounts; no mere wisp


of love for us passionate ones. No small sense of


injustice do we feel today about America. So, hope,


must always be in our hearts as well. I


can’t imagine, can you, love with no hope? Or a wish


for something that can never, ever be? No, you  


and me, we must imagine a better world and what it would


be like to have dreams like miracles that stay. 






I hope everyone has a good weekend. Nine days till Halloween! Thank you Jama, again for hosting. 


























	


	





	

		
		
Poetry Friday, and a Thought from Thomas Carlyle
	


	
	
	

		






Welcome to Poetry Friday!  This is my first time hosting and have looked forward to it. I’ve been away from my blog for month and my thoughts have been with teachers who are returning to their students.  





There are madmen running the country but still I managed to write. Being away from my blog has confirmed what I  knew, that being part of this group inspires me to write and learn. 





I have added Mister Linky to my blog so I hope he does his job. Fingers crossed. If he doesn’t, just place your address in the comments section. 





Seasons are changing, so a few photos to celebrate Fall. In Upstate New York,  it’s a time of contrasts. Lots of gold, yellow and red on my walks. Even pink.




















And Halloween is almost here. I have to figure out how I will greet trick or treaters this year when they come to my door. My pumpkin door hanging and my little scarecrow have returned:




















It struck me that the sky yesterday was showing a concern for others:















There have been many quiet, lovely mornings this summer, and I wish somehow I could keep them with me, freeze a moment, make it last.  Maybe because I am apprehensive of the solitude that will come with frigid weather, I treasured each summer and fall moment.  That’s what inspired this short poem. 





AT EIGHT O'CLOCK

I wish for time  
to slow and stop
on a Thursday morning
at eight o’clock

when rays of sunshine
ignite chartreuse trees,

and maple leaves wave 
their hands in the breeze,
while cardinals chattering
on perches, be.

For this singular moment
each second will steal,
as the day rolls on
like a movie reel.

© Janice Scully 2020





 I’ll end with a quote that seems relevant, by nineteenth century writer Thomas Carlyle, about what I might be listening for in quiet moments.  I discovered the quote in a wonderful book, The Discovery of Poetry by Frances Mayes, who is a poetry professor and author of Under the Tuscan Sun. 










All deep things are Song. It seems somehow the very
central essence of us, Song; as if all the rest were
but wrappers and hulls! . . . See deep enough,
and you see musically; the heart of Nature being
everywhere music, if you can only reach it.

Thomas Carlyle






Have a wonderful week and my best to you in your writing and in your classrooms. 





	


	





	

		
		
Lucky Rock
	


	
	
	

		

It’s Poetry Friday! Thank you, Kiesha Shepard at Whispers From The Ridge for hosting. This week she is sharing poems by Paul Laurence Dunbar that speak to the heart of what it means to be black in America. 





I’m hoping for the best this fall, and think that we will need a lot of work and maybe a little luck to get through Covid, the election, and get our country back on track. 





I’ve enjoyed being outside during this summer of social distancing, and one of my favorite places was Long Point State Park on Cayuga Lake. One day, I was given a lucky rock by a woman on the narrow beach. A lucky rock, apparently, is one in which a hole has been worn through it.  Here are a few rocks I collected. See the holes in the top three?  















I didn’t realize lucky rocks were a bonafide thing until on a later visit, another woman asked me if I’d found any lucky rocks. 





So here’s a poem inspired by lucky rocks. And to celebrate summer. 





LOST AND FOUND.

In early September,
on the shore of the lake,

buried in sand and shells sat
a velvety gray rock

with a hole piercing its
teardrop shape,

as if a mermaid
had lost her pendant. 

Many similar rocks
sprinkled the shoreline

like an end of summer
lost and found. 




© Janice Scully 2020






I am beginning an on-line workshop on novels in verse and so I won’t be posting this next month. Any progress on my WIP will require considerable focus, which has been difficult for me this summer. I hope all the teachers out there are well, successfully and happily returning to their work. 





Thank you, Kiesha, for hosting!