tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66370657182629596152024-03-14T10:57:44.515-07:00Poetry & BiscuitsLauna Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-4751390787364107532009-05-27T21:09:00.001-07:002009-05-27T21:13:50.352-07:00Today's quoteHere's the quote that's on my mind today:<br /><br />Is there more to life than increasing its speed? -- Gandhi<br /><br /><br />I was packing a lot, oh, I mean A LOT into the next several weeks. I just decided today to let some of it go. Disappointing. Very, very relieving. I will, after all, be moving states this summer. <em>Again.</em> I need to just let that unfold and then move on to the next project and embrace the journey. <br /><br />I'd like to read a really good biography of Mahatma Gandhi. Can you recommend one to me?Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-5236580415628282642009-05-16T12:45:00.000-07:002009-05-16T13:08:50.459-07:00And then she changed her mindI am collecting stories of people who were well along a path--career, ideology, life style-- and then woke up one morning and changed it all. I don't mean when you're young (who didn't change majors in college?) I mean a well-established adult who may have even garnered some degree of fame and/or success in her current identity. And then she chucked it. <br /><br />Why? Because stories like that interest me. But, also, because I'm going back to school on the eve of my 40<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> birthday. I'm getting a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">PreK</span> - 3rd grade masters/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">licensure</span> (I dream of teaching Kindergarten). I already had a masters in writing, and a perfectly good plan to teach composition and ESL and creative writing, while writing the great American novel.<br /><br />Well, you know, I changed my mind. I take comfort knowing that so did...<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Arianna</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Huffington</span>. Founder and CEO of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Huffington</span> Post, a go-to source for left-of-the-aisle <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">political</span> news and thought. She first stepped into political limelight by campaigning for her then-husband, a Republican California gubernatorial candidate. She wasn't a kid when she was stumping for the GOP, and her position wasn't unexamined--she just later changed her mind.<br /><br />And a <a href="http://checkoutgirlcrafts.blogspot.com/">blogger named Melissa</a>, who is also a wildly talented <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">crafter</span> and owner of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Etsy</span> shop <a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?ref=vl_other_2&listing_id=25134954">Little Pink House</a>. She was well into her 30s, a professor of creative writing on a tenure track at a small, prestigious liberal arts college, when she looked around and saw a lifetime of department meetings and passionless student essays and said, um, no. She moved her family to a small town in Maine, and now she sews, blogs, and raises her daughter. My favorite part of this story is that her sewing projects aren't postmodern, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">un-constructed</span> gallery pieces that represent a angst-filled intellectual poem in another medium. No, she sews lovely wall-hangings that sweetly, quietly, celebrate family and home. To look at her work is to take a deep breath and feel at peace. There is not a shred of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Ph</span>.D. poetic irony in them. She left that kind of thing behind--she changed her mind, and seems to be completely happy with it. Awesome.<br /><br />Got another example for me? Add to my collection!Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-46807872702803439842009-05-10T14:41:00.001-07:002009-05-10T14:45:19.975-07:00Happy Mother's Day from a baby bird<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBgGX_ItUhG-umEUUKnCMXWNQi8WYoER_vqVQ4fF7qcXGRWkmk1dAmje6WSg812PQhcZ9ZMOPywy4YBcL-BfZlRq5H81NT7WryV8tgwU8gPBRwDILjOSZyiETkV4oe4a6NDKk6fCoEyZ0/s1600-h/100_6418.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334314077999388050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 211px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBgGX_ItUhG-umEUUKnCMXWNQi8WYoER_vqVQ4fF7qcXGRWkmk1dAmje6WSg812PQhcZ9ZMOPywy4YBcL-BfZlRq5H81NT7WryV8tgwU8gPBRwDILjOSZyiETkV4oe4a6NDKk6fCoEyZ0/s320/100_6418.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Found in my children's playset in the backyard. They've generously agreed not to play there for a few weeks, while this feathered family gets its start.</p><p>Does this little guy remind any of my mama friends of their scrawny, hungry, newborn nurslings? </p><p>Happy Mother's Day, friends. Hope you had the chance to gather your babies back into your nest and kiss them.</p>Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-61476719012549211182009-05-06T12:50:00.000-07:002009-05-06T13:02:39.107-07:00Change as a lifestyleWe move. A lot. A LOT.<br /><br />Even other military families think we move a lot. <br /><br />We moved here to Ohio just last summer and bought a house, thinking we would be here for years. But my husband's office reorganized. Fortunately, he was able to get a position back in the DC area, where we just left last summer. <br /><br />So, we are moving back to DC. This summer. We pretty much move annually. <br /><br />We've moved in 1991, 1992, 1994, 1997, 1999, 2001, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2008, and now 2009. <br /><br />That's twelve moves. <br /><br />We've lived in San Antonio, Boston, England, Indiana, Ohio, Hawaii, Washington State, Alabama, DC, Ohio again, and now DC again. <br /><br />Is this insane? This may be completely insane. This may explain a lot. This may be the excuse for everything. <br /><br />But I refuse to think of it that way. You can be wounded from all this change, or you can gain strength from it. You can embrace!<br /><br />It is very easy for me to embrace going back to DC. I loved it there. I loved my children's school, our neighborhood, our friends. I didn't love our rental house so much, so now we've got a different house that's pretty amazing. Near Metro! Near the park! Walking distance to school! <br /><br />I am a very lucky person, that I get to go live where I want to live. When I'm on the other side of this move, I will feel luckier.Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-5959340583689974892009-05-02T10:04:00.000-07:002009-05-02T10:22:12.246-07:00May Day and middle ageThis post has two unrelated topics. Or are they related? You be the judge.<br /><br />First, yesterday was May Day. My daughter made a lovely May basket at school, the grass is lush and the tulips are at their apex. Wonderful! I must make mention of my maternal grandmother, Dorothy May Hart O'Hanlon, who was born on May day, 1919. She died in 1996. Every May Day I think of her a lot. She liked to laugh, joke, play games, tell stories, share gossip, eat sweets, purchase small and shiny baubles. She was a dream of a grandma--always thought I was interesting and smart and pretty, and she sneaked me as much sugar cereal as I could handle. Love you, Grandma Dot. Thinking of you.<br /><br />Second. Middle age. I will turn 40 later this year, and not a day goes by that I don't ponder that. I hasten to say that I'm not at all afraid of turning 40, in fact, I'm comfortable with it. But I would like to wake up on my birthday and know that I'm living authentically. Hmm, that sounds pretentious. I just mean that it's important to me that I'm not spinning my wheels. That I'm not <em>waiting</em> for anything. I'm <em>doing</em>.<br /><br />And while I was thinking these middle aged thoughts, I came across this poem. Oh, this poem!<br /><br />"Foreseeing" by Sharon Bryan, from Flying Blind. © Sarabande Books, 1996.<br /><br /><em>Middle age</em> refers more<br />to landscape than to time:<br />it's as if you'd reached<br /><br />the top of a hill<br />and could see all the way<br />to the end of your life,<br /><br />so you know without a doubt<br />that it has an end—<br />not that it <em>will </em>have,<br /><br />but that it does have,<br />if only in outline—<br />so for the first time<br /><br />you can see your life whole,<br />beginning and end not far<br />from where you stand,<br /><br />the horizon in the distance—<br />the view makes you weep,<br />but it also has the beauty<br /><br />of symmetry, like the earth<br />seen from space: you can't help<br />but admire it from afar,<br /><br />especially now, while it's simple<br />to re-enter whenever you choose,<br />lying down in your life,<br /><br />waking up to it<br />just as you always have—<br />except that the details resonate<br /><br />by virtue of being contained,<br />as your own words<br />coming back to you<br /><br />define the landscape,<br />remind you that it won't go on<br />like this forever.Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-50415097009539819872009-04-29T19:23:00.000-07:002009-04-29T19:35:31.202-07:00Best definition of the universe I've heard yetMy daughter's first grade class is assembling a book on geography. Each child was assigned a geographical concept to look up in the dictionary. Then they write the word on their page with the definition and draw a picture of it. A few kids were assigned two pages, so all the concepts would be covered. Leah got "prairie," and then she got "universe."<br /><br />Universe?<br /><br />She diligently looked it up in our illustrated children's dictionary, (there was no illustration on this one, by the way) and copied down the definition in her best handwriting.<br /><br /><em>The whole of everything that exists, including the earth, moon, sun, all the planets, and all the stars.</em><br /><br />I talked a little about how no one knows how big the universe is, and many people think it's expanding. All that we can see with even the most powerful telescopes is still just the tiniest fraction of the universe. As she began to draw, she stopped and pondered for a while. Then she said this.<br /><br />Mom, I think the universe is God's mind. The universe keeps getting bigger because God's mind keeps getting bigger. I think when someone dies, she's still in the universe, because she's still in God's mind.<br /><br />Blew. Me. Away.Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-72613481994310729742009-04-24T14:30:00.000-07:002009-04-24T14:32:39.355-07:00This one's for my fellow English majors"The purpose of a liberal education is to make one's mind a pleasant place to spend one's leisure."<br /><br />Joseph JoubertLauna Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-58507568659695212492009-04-21T13:09:00.001-07:002009-04-23T19:03:54.376-07:00hailstones for everyoneMy daughter and I were riding our bikes home today, and the sky opened up and dumped down hail. It was so unexpected and so violent in the slanting way the ice pellets struck our skin that it was almost funny.<br /><br />Well, the six-year-old didn't think so. She was furious, crying and completely miserable. I kept yelling up to her (over the pounding of ice pellets) just keep going, honey! We're almost home!<br /><br />We did get home, put on dry clothes and ate a couple homemade snickerdoodles, and watercolored together (see new banner). We both had that feeling that we had just acquired a good story.<br /><br />But, unfortunately, we didn't do any of those things before I felt compelled to deliver a motherly speech about being a good sport about circumstances no one can control. It was uncomfortable, I lectured, but it didn't actually hurt you. You were acting like it was your own personal hailstorm.<br /><br />And right in the middle of that speech I understood that I was giving it to myself. We've had all this uncertainty lately, regarding work, and I've been stewing about it. Like I was the only one who could feel the ice pellets. But while it's uncomfortable, it's not actually hurting me.<br /><br />And I'm going to have a good story when this is over.Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-31147458429389112122009-04-16T13:43:00.000-07:002009-04-16T13:46:59.772-07:00however...My computer still has a virus which has completely shut it down.<br /><br />I'm still in the middle of a great deal of major uncertainty (I'll explain, friends, as soon as I can.)<br /><br />However....<br /><br />I just stood on our back deck, and the white blossoms from the two big trees in our backyard rained down on me. It is a green and blue and pale yellow spring day, with a bonus gentle breeze. <br /><br />What else matters?Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-28661676589561061612009-04-15T06:52:00.000-07:002009-04-15T06:54:45.446-07:00gesundheit, computerFriends, my computer has caught a nasty virus. It's not pretty. Please check back soon for more Poetry & Biscuits. Thanks.Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-35245827226453694732009-04-10T08:58:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:20:59.923-07:00everything there is to know about RussiaThe wise-way-beyond-her-years Stephani, who is raising three young boys in Texas and telling about it in her wonderful blog <a href="http://blueyonder.typepad.com/my_weblog/">Blue Yonder</a>, recently <a href="http://blueyonder.typepad.com/my_weblog/2009/02/doodle-bugs.html">posted this idea</a> (which she says is inspired by Lori's <a href="http://www.whiteoakschool.com/">Camp Creek Blog</a>, which truly is the original font of inspiration).<br /><br />It's a simple idea, but somehow I needed it pointed out to me. When your child asks you a question you can't answer, <em>write it down</em>.<br /><br />I've been leaning on this tired phrase: "oh, that's an interesting question. We should look that up."<br /><br />I was called out on that. "Mom," my son said. "You say we'll look it up but we never do."<br /><br />"What was it you asked about?" I asked.<br /><br />"I don't remember anymore," he sighed.<br /><br />I've carried a tiny notebook and pen in my purse forever. It says <em>email Emily</em> or <em>return library books Monday</em>--stuff like that. Sometimes it catches snips of poems or essay ideas. Often it's turned over to Leah for drawings or tic-tac-toe games in a waiting moment. Why didn't I ever think to hand it to Jacob? I don't know.<br /><br />So, after reading Stephani's post, I reached into my purse for this notebook and tossed it to Jacob in the backseat. "Write it down," I said, "because I really want to know that too and we'll look it up together." His reaction was all I could hope for.<br /><br />Here is a partial list of my son's research topics in the last few days, written in his own words and his own tidy, purposeful handwriting.<br /><br />How tall is Mt. Everest in INCHES?<br /><br />What is the gas milage of a Smart Car?<br /><br />Where was President Garfield when he was killed?<br /><br />What do fire extinguishers let out?<br /><br />Everything there is to know about Russia.Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-69585122223573389912009-04-09T18:10:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:20:38.328-07:00Random acts of public happinessI found this video via my friend Joan, who was the voice of kindness and reason on my dorm floor my sophomore year of college.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EYAUazLI9k">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EYAUazLI9k</a><a href="http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=65959686667&h=wrkiD&u=OLHsc&ref=nf"></a><br /><br />This video gets better as it goes. I just love it.<br /><br />I'm reminded of a wonderful woman I met years ago when I lived in England. (Steve? Are you reading this? She was a friend of yours. I don't recall her name.) She had started a volunteer group which, in twos or threes, boarded trains on London's Underground. They would begin to sing a singable, knowable tune, and invite anyone who wished to join in. They wanted to make a dent in the anonymity of urban life. They wanted to connect. Sometimes they would sing their song and then quietly exit at the next station. But sometimes, she reported, they'd get a whole car singing. I always meant to join them, but I never made it.<br /><br />There is this video, too, which is good fun, but it doesn't quite have that element of boundless joy, does it?<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwMj3PJDxuo">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwMj3PJDxuo</a>Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-74334798154985108052009-04-08T11:19:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:20:26.119-07:00there is poetry in ClevelandHere is my proof.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjSphcq48wrE0IQYN9c9qfCZRR_FS9FK4y9U2w_8toPQRHi8k-JS81pPoddUqn0FdqNARXvANDnYCKny6LEelicd5qP0gNtnrJTT7ZhS3lWQKbcshIWNnhbV-FSeUGnfr5OWSZ7mR4FoE/s1600-h/100_6157_edited-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322387526516036914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjSphcq48wrE0IQYN9c9qfCZRR_FS9FK4y9U2w_8toPQRHi8k-JS81pPoddUqn0FdqNARXvANDnYCKny6LEelicd5qP0gNtnrJTT7ZhS3lWQKbcshIWNnhbV-FSeUGnfr5OWSZ7mR4FoE/s320/100_6157_edited-1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>April 2nd, Willoughby Municipal Park, Cleveland, on Lake Erie.</p><br />(I photoshopped out a picnic table and two trash cans. Forgive me.)Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-11989606461347473842009-04-07T21:11:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:20:09.461-07:00why they are mastersEvery day I make an effort to go toward what I don’t understand. This wandering leads to the accidental learning that continually shapes my life.<br />— Yo-Yo Ma<br /><br />Ancora imparo.<br />[I am still learning.]<br />-- Michaelangelo, age 87Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-76236406194970220282009-04-07T10:39:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:19:52.524-07:00snow + bloomPerhaps I'm taking the silver lining thing a bit too far, but I find reassurance that sometimes, even Earth herself muddles things up. Today, long after she released the blooms in my neighborhood--oops, she flurried some snow.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5oAkqPCJ7pZgXLiVGA667NuNZSKV1K1Fqn5bK5x6-Xk5avyZhhJeEU3fynn6Bhz417filu731xVOaKM85BJAx8WZNy3O89qqsSW7wQIBcGdG8zX5KYEiC1BQGB-IRgy8rwSj535ZUAfs/s1600-h/100_6172.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322006534735065474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5oAkqPCJ7pZgXLiVGA667NuNZSKV1K1Fqn5bK5x6-Xk5avyZhhJeEU3fynn6Bhz417filu731xVOaKM85BJAx8WZNy3O89qqsSW7wQIBcGdG8zX5KYEiC1BQGB-IRgy8rwSj535ZUAfs/s320/100_6172.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />(Can you see it swirling in this photo?)<br /><br />It's strange. Surreal. Beautiful. And it allows me to take it a little easier on myself when I go to the store expressly for eggs and bread, and I come home with eggs (and tofu and chocolate and strawberries) but no bread. I'm in good company in my absent-mindedness.Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-27887073583727436002009-04-06T12:37:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:19:28.987-07:00Gertrude sums it up"I do want to get rich, but I never want to do what there is to do to get rich."<br /><br />Gertrude Stein, <em>from Everybody's Autobiography</em>Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-7076026878908034632009-04-05T09:41:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:19:10.528-07:00language in translationI've been thinking a lot about the German language, flipping through traveler's phrase books and the hefty, sober Oxford-Duden Dictionary (concise version of). I love German. It's a realist's language. Not that I'm a realist, but I admire those who are.<br /><br />English in translation<br /><br />I told them English<br />is my mother tongue,<br />but every day, every word<br />I translate<br />from the unformed,<br />the fleeting, the impassioned,<br />the true.<br />Even that<br />I translate<br />from the primoridal dark<br />and the dappled green shadows<br />of my forebears' memories.Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-45899969459847867172009-04-03T19:38:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:18:57.612-07:00Comparing early childhood education conceptsFor a long time, I've been mentally working on a comparison study of the many schools of thought on early childhood education.<br /><br />And I just came across <a href="http://www.globalmama.com/">this blog </a>and <a href="http://www.globalmama.com/2009/02/19/hunting-for-a-preschool/">this series of posts</a>. Wonderful. I wish I had had this information at my fingertips when my own children were preschool-aged.<br /><br />Click around--such informative posts, and doesn't she have an eye for the beautiful detail?Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-53013281146001695812009-03-31T16:46:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:18:42.156-07:00new game around the house<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzPRXvi5uPC-kwQ55kxdO4QM_h8NBi-xksptLGFxguBUS7e_buJec1kyqRlvR72BbO2TOb2baTosPo5nUdM3UU8fIAO7mrVCQzsnJkvfWLE9149rDqxLhwQa7xaaD5QlxedWpFxLF71s/s1600-h/Tiles.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319503401855150258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 97px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 86px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzPRXvi5uPC-kwQ55kxdO4QM_h8NBi-xksptLGFxguBUS7e_buJec1kyqRlvR72BbO2TOb2baTosPo5nUdM3UU8fIAO7mrVCQzsnJkvfWLE9149rDqxLhwQa7xaaD5QlxedWpFxLF71s/s320/Tiles.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>My husband was in Germany last week, and he brought back with him loads of German chocolate (thank you, honey), and also an addictive game called <a href="http://www.tantrix.com/">Tantrix</a>. Check it out. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-53436122154411503602009-03-30T09:07:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:18:18.137-07:00Example of a teacher/poet who gets itEnjoy.<br /><br /><br />Teaching Poetry to 3rd Graders<br /><br />by Gary Short<br />from his collection "10 Moons and 13 Horses"<br /><br />At recess a boy ran to me<br />with a pink rubber ball and asked<br />if I would kick it to him. He handed me the ball,<br />then turned and ran<br />and ran and ran, not turning back<br />until he was far out in the field.<br />I wasn't sure I could kick the ball<br />that far. But I tried,<br />launching a perfect and lucky kick.<br />The ball sailed in a beautiful arc<br />about eight stories high,<br />landed within a few feet of the 3rd grader<br />and took a big bounce off the hard playground dirt.<br />Pleased, I turned to enter the school building.<br />And then (I don't know where they came from<br />so quickly) I heard a rumbling behind me<br />full tilt. They were carrying pink balls and yellow balls<br />of different sizes, black and white checkered<br />soccer balls. They wanted me to kick for them.<br />And now this is a ritual—this is how we spend recess.<br />They stand in line, hand me the ball and run.<br />The balls rise like planets<br />and the 3rd graders<br />circle dizzily beneath the falling sky,<br />their arms outstretched.Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-38225934195985201012009-03-25T19:10:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:17:48.348-07:00I search for deeper water"I used to sit on the banks with a raft and watch the water roll lazily by. One day I pushed my raft into the shallows of the water and found the water moved swifter than I thought. My raft was actually a boat. Then, after some time, I rowed my little boat into deeper water. There were great storms, mighty winds, tremendous waves, and sometimes I felt so alone. But my little rowboat is now a mighty ship manned by my friends and loved ones; and beautiful calm seas, warm sunny days, and nights filled with comfortable dreams always double after a storm. Now, I could never go back and sit on the bank. In fact, <em>I search for deeper water</em>. Such is life when lived."<br /><br />B. D. Gulledge (emphasis mine)<br /><br />(Thank you to <a href="http://aliedwards.typepad.com/">Alli </a>.)Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-89135415867368822822009-03-25T18:43:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:16:49.933-07:00Stop action animation is the new blackOh! This video. It bears many repeat viewings.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_HXUhShhmY">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_HXUhShhmY</a>Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-27682932143590080312009-03-24T10:51:00.001-07:002009-04-10T14:15:55.523-07:00Into the woods<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEi8hOIAWAFde78PZb1guvMDRSDuEmN-ElqYsIOR35CLK9JCdPj3EI_bZC_wf0ylnWIwQqwaod9pNplcNUzP3_zMv-LvoTIonbpyQc4gV2-0eVxqrl206rW1RWou9v13Ryp6Tpigkg46E/s1600-h/100_1130.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316900790187712434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEi8hOIAWAFde78PZb1guvMDRSDuEmN-ElqYsIOR35CLK9JCdPj3EI_bZC_wf0ylnWIwQqwaod9pNplcNUzP3_zMv-LvoTIonbpyQc4gV2-0eVxqrl206rW1RWou9v13Ryp6Tpigkg46E/s320/100_1130.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div>Oh, my, I found something new and I have fallen down an internet rabbit hole, going from one site to another to learn about it.</div><br /><div></div><div>Have you heard of a <em>Waldkindergarten</em>?</div><br /><div></div><div>If you are European, I'm sure you have, as they are well-established there, especially in Denmark, Germany, and Great Britain. </div><br /><div></div><div>Here's the concept: the children and staff work and play outdoors. They never go indoors. There <em>is no indoors</em> at their preschool. Whatever the weather, they are part of it. There are no toys or art supplies in the traditional sense. They use what they find in nature to build, create, and learn. They climb. They hike. When the snow is deep, they dig and sculpt. Apparently they occasionally fall into the stream while they are playing, and they are fished out, and then they carry on. By the way, the stress levels, noise levels, and illness rates are reportedly dramatically lower. </div><br /><div></div><div><a href="http://www.secretgardenoutdoor-nursery.co.uk/">This school</a> in Scotland is literally outdoors, always. Some schools in Germany mix it up a little--outdoors all morning, then indoors for the afternoon. A school in Brussels where <a href="http://www.bakersandastronauts.blogspot.com/">this</a> amazing blogger teaches, is more or less indoors, but they go frolicking in the woods abutting their back door every chance they get. They have, I read, a <em>secret playground</em> in the woods. I would lose my mind as a child--as a parent--as a teacher--to find a secret playground on my jaunts through enchanted woods. </div><br /><div></div><div>I'm reading about these preschools after my children spent weeks indoors at their elementary school. Ice? inside. Dusting of snow? inside. Under 32 F? inside. They may not pick up a stick on their playground. They may not rearrange the mulch. There are no trees.</div><br /><div></div><div>Maybe we are missing something essential. </div><br /><div></div><div>Maybe there is a golden mean?</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-26716552069064056922009-03-23T07:47:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:15:35.927-07:00recommended eating<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKegIPbPhOsKwmKCdxxzqhADdXfqHlrH8ZIOFa4ID1Lrmd59BaXz5LpTofcYZRcxEcRAlUuBlOhyphenhyphen0EKaxTpF6lBCMVyWnKvywCyo5nMQDs9eDGm7Z_h84-B1jfAFqOGrK_Is-EzGY03T8/s1600-h/100_6127.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316395435129044114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKegIPbPhOsKwmKCdxxzqhADdXfqHlrH8ZIOFa4ID1Lrmd59BaXz5LpTofcYZRcxEcRAlUuBlOhyphenhyphen0EKaxTpF6lBCMVyWnKvywCyo5nMQDs9eDGm7Z_h84-B1jfAFqOGrK_Is-EzGY03T8/s320/100_6127.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I don't know...we <em>are</em> just emerging from our winter <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">hibernation</span>. Maybe you don't want a cookie recommendation?<br /><p>Just in case you do...</p><p>May I suggest <a href="http://wednesdaychef.typepad.com/the_wednesday_chef/2006/09/barbara_fairchi_1.html">Chocolate Toffee Cookies</a> from Louisa over at <a href="http://www.thewednesdaychef.com/the_wednesday_chef/">The Wednesday Chef</a>. I left out the nuts, as that is what my children prefer. These cookies have so much chocolate in them that they satisfy the cookie urge and the chocolate urge simultaneously. Little marvels, they are.</p><p>Leslie over at a <a href="http://a-friend-to-knit-with.blogspot.com/">Friend to Knit with </a>bakes a weekly cookie, usually something new every week. I love that idea. I get into my rut of oatmeal chocolate chip or brownies, occasionally some short bread. And a package of Fig Newmans if I don't get any baking done. </p><p>I'm also very inspired by Heather at <a href="http://beautythatmoves.typepad.com/beauty_that_moves/2009/03/gosh-arent-you-all-the-nicest-with-all-of-your-kind-words-about-adams-treehouse-i-really-appreciate-it-for-him-it-is-such.html">Beauty that Moves</a>, whose new teaching gig encouraged her to have a Sunday food prep day--baking and cooking in one marathon for the week. Very smart. I'm going to try it. </p>Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6637065718262959615.post-65646187087342707242009-03-22T09:12:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:15:17.367-07:00Little Dress on the Prairie<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnDmcGaKg1vn2DZTc0QroIXc4eQL99tYH80iPEU0EKFveHs0OnKLkq2IdkIRuC89eENEP8z8wA-DtfwYWdzJJJC_6LRGd8v5_NXFJardNcXN61crc1YZGNo0aWPj1BTceT6cw4RM3tvTk/s1600-h/100_6121.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316045998987071634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 192px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnDmcGaKg1vn2DZTc0QroIXc4eQL99tYH80iPEU0EKFveHs0OnKLkq2IdkIRuC89eENEP8z8wA-DtfwYWdzJJJC_6LRGd8v5_NXFJardNcXN61crc1YZGNo0aWPj1BTceT6cw4RM3tvTk/s320/100_6121.JPG" border="0" /></a> Finished today: a prairie dress for a little girl who loves all things Laura Ingalls. It turned out a bit more costume than dress, but I don't mind and the little girl in question certainly doesn't.<br /><br /><br />The embroidered buttons are my favorite part.<br /><br /><br />In the news this morning: a new study has shown that we can change our brains into our 40s, 50s, and 60s--much later than the rest of our bodies. I am glad to hear this, because I noticed afresh while sewing this dress how laughably poor my spacial reasoning abilities are. Took a few tries to sew in the bodice lining, and which way it would turn...well, apparently, the more I practice this, the better I'll get at it, even at 39. Isn't that good news?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPE0McVo2-Z7yruAVdhpoFNfVzVX3uCFIJFCTDUClIlU8Av3IGkTYXHeo29-aJUhfPtT2ZOFK0cp3ySNBrqgu-vsvd4iPpJUPzKCTvDw-rll31VigK97s_0lMkjkWO1KI_AwgKwb165JA/s1600-h/100_6122.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316046353893883426" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPE0McVo2-Z7yruAVdhpoFNfVzVX3uCFIJFCTDUClIlU8Av3IGkTYXHeo29-aJUhfPtT2ZOFK0cp3ySNBrqgu-vsvd4iPpJUPzKCTvDw-rll31VigK97s_0lMkjkWO1KI_AwgKwb165JA/s320/100_6122.JPG" border="0" /></a>Launa Hallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03732938187019993335noreply@blogger.com0