Tag Archives: learning

Making Contact

Posted on February 16, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

What drew me to education? I believed, and still do, I make a difference in the lives of young people entrusted to me for a year or more by their parents. It is a covenant. Yesterday, someone noticed a sticker on the classroom door. Someone had written: “Mr. P. is a good Math teacher.” A student asked if I was a good Math teacher and I responded, “No, I teach students, not subjects.” Virginia Satir described the contact teachers encourage children’s lives. We must never lose this aspect of relationship with other people, particularly children. The reciprocal nature of being is critical to humanity and humanness. The whole person emerges in the safety of these relationships.

I believe

The greatest gift

I can conceive of having from anyone

to be seen by them,

heard by them,

to be understood

and touched by them.

The greatest gift

I can give

is to see, hear, understand

and to touch

another person.

When this is done

I feel

contact has been made.

27 Comments

Posted in Education, Mindful Life, Reflective Moments and tagged community, creativity, education, eloquent questions, learning, poetry, teacher as transformer, virginia satir. Bookmark the permalink.

The Old Man and the Sea – The Limerick

Posted on February 15, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

We wrote limericks again today. Some students finished the ones they had begun and others were absent. One student from the latter group wanted to know what could go with something about the sea. I threw this out, but she wasn’t interested. I think it is the abridged story of the Old Man and the Sea.

There was an old man who lived on the sea.

He loved an occasional cuppa tea.

Unfortunately, he the water was from the brine.

He joyfully turned to wine.

That drunken old man who lived on the sea.

10 Comments

Posted in Education, Humour, Lesson Plans, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged creativity, education, learning, Limericks, Mindful Practice, poetry, teacher as transformer, The Old Man and the Sea. Hemingway. Bookmark the permalink.

Limericks

Posted on January 31, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I started on the academic work last night. I was productive as I tracked down some books that I have in my library and added to the library with a book order.

Yesterday, we began our poetry unit at school. I enjoy it and I think, for the most part, the students do as well. They grumble a bit, but, when they start writing they are laughing. We wrote limericks. I wander around the room, talk my way through limericks, and write one or two down on the board. It is mostly off the top of my head and they are fairly rough, but the students get a charge out of it and realize not to take it too seriously. I wrote these two on the board and decided to share.

There once was a boy named Earl

He wanted so desperately to be a squirrel.

Allergic to nuts, his dreams were dashed.

Distressed he wailed and his teeth he gnashed

That young fellow named Earl.

There once was a boy who loved basketball

Three-pointers were his downfall.

He went to shooting school

There he did rule

Today, he has fame and is in the Hall.

14 Comments

Posted in Education, Humour, Lesson Plans, Poetry and tagged creativity, education, learning, Limericks, poetry, school, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

First Reader

Posted on January 23, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

We experienced a good day today. We are writing fractured fairy tales which are parodies of the originals. Students turn the story around and rewrite it with a twist. One student explained that the boy who cried wolf was visually impaired and was the victim of pranks by the sheep. Another student told the story of the Billy Goats Gruff through the eyes of the troll. Would you like it if someone were clacking around on your roof? The handsome prince dumps the beautiful princess for the maid in Rapunzel so someone did live happily ever after. The kids have fun with this activity and we talk about perspective. What if I were the Big Bad Wolf? We learn to understand that life is revealed through many eyes and experiences.

Billy Collins wrote this poem which I think expresses the way we learn and shape our learning. Occasionally, we need to let go, just be in the moment, and experience learning. I think we did that today.

I can see them standing politely on the wide pages
that I was still learning to turn,
Jane in a blue jumper, Dick with his crayon-brown hair,
playing with a ball or exploring the cosmos
of the backyard, unaware they are the first characters,
the boy and girl who begin fiction.

Beyond the simple illustrations of their neighborhood,
the other protagonists were waiting in a huddle:
frightening Heathcliff, frightened Pip, Nick Adams
carrying a fishing rod, Emma Bovary riding into Rouen.

But I would read about the perfect boy and his sister
even before I would read about Adam and Eve, garden and gate,
and before I heard the name Gutenberg, the type
of their simple talk was moving into my focusing eyes.

It was always Saturday and he and she
were always pointing at something and shouting,
“Look!” pointing at the dog, the bicycle, or at their father
as he pushed a hand mower over the lawn,
waving at aproned mother framed in the kitchen doorway,
pointing toward the sky, pointing at each other.

They wanted us to look but we had looked already
and seen the shaded lawn, the wagon, the postman.
We had seen the dog, walked, watered and fed the animal,
and now it was time to discover the infinite, clicking
permutations of the alphabet’s small and capital letters.
Alphabetical ourselves in the rows of classroom desks,
we were forgetting how to look, learning how to read.

20 Comments

Posted in Education, Lesson Plans, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged Billy Collins, creativity, education, First Reader, learning, poetry, school, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

Poem Against the First Grade

Posted on January 18, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

When I read this poem, I do so with care. George Venn wrote it in the voice of a six-year-old, but I can easily imagine anyone so excited about learning that they trip over their words and speak so fast words just run together. The poem reminded me of the way small children or a learner of any age, stops in mid-sentence and makes pronouncements in ways that do not always fit the conversation, but seem so right.

What a marvel when I do not worry about the need to be expert or proficient. I can just be in that moment a small child excited by the newness of my life.

Alex, my son, with backberry jam
smeared ear to ear and laughing,
rides his unbroken joy with words
so fast we let him get away
on the jamjar without clean cheeks first.

He spills frasasass
tea with milk and honey;
a red-chafted schlicker
beats our cottonwood drum.
Thumping the pano keys
like a mudpie chef,
he goes wild with words
at the wittle wooden
arms inside, a hundred
Pinoschios to singsong.
If he can’t wide byebye
bike to the candy store,
where he is Master Rich
with one penny, words turn
to tears in his mouf. Once
in a while, he walks home
with pum-pum-pumpernickel bread
his nose twitching so fast
a wabbit would love him.

Now this language is not taught in first grade.
Alicia, his tister, knows this fact.
But he juggles it around all day
until she makes him spit it out like
a catseye marble or a tack. “Ax,” she says,
“that’s not right.” She’s been among giants
who wipe off the dialect of backberry jam,
then pour hot wax on each bright mistake.

I hope for a bad seal on Ax and tister,
encourage the mold of joyous error
that proper sad giants, armed to the ears
with pencils and rules, all forgot.

12 Comments

Posted in Education, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged creativity, education, George Venn, learning, Mindful Practice, Poem Against the First Grade, poetry, school, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

Stone

Posted on January 13, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

I spent today catching up. Most of it was digital. It is interesting how much email built up, but I was productive today. This poem by Charles Simic spoke to me. Children wonder and hold the world in awe. Adults lose track of the beauty of mystery. I am not sure what next week holds. Perhaps, I will write poetry. Although I relied on the words of others, noted that many of these poets were new to me and that was transformative. I spent time wisely.

Go inside a stone

That would be my way.

Let somebody else become a dove

Or gnash with a tiger’s tooth.

I am happy to be a stone.

From the outside the stone is a riddle:

No one knows how to answer it.

Yet within, it must be cool and quiet

Even though a cow steps on it full weight,

Even though a child throws it in a river;

The stone sinks, slow, unperturbed

To the river bottom

Where the fishes come to knock on it

And listen.

I have seen sparks fly out

When two stones are rubbed,

So perhaps it is not dark inside after all;

Perhaps there is a moon shining

From somewhere, as though behind a hill—

Just enough light to make out

The strange writings, the star-charts

On the inner walls.

19 Comments

Posted in Education, Mindful Life, Poetry, Sabbath and tagged Charles Simic, creativity, education, learning, Mindful Practice, sabbath, Stone, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

A Note

Posted on January 12, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

Well, I made it to the finish line this week and had a good day today. I ran out of steam after lunch, but afternoons have been kind this week. We are writing Fractured Fairy Tales and students get into this activity. I find opportunities to work 1-on-1 with students who need a little extra help. It is a great unit plan and can be modified for different ages.

Wislawa Szymborska wrote this poem. It fits with recent reflections about the extraordinary nature of ordinary life. My father-in-law, Bill, used to ask, “Who has more fun than people? More people do, of course!” I recalled his quirky, wise sayings as I read this poem. It is simple things, often overlooked, that give life its fullest meaning.

Life is the only way
to get covered in leaves,
catch your breath on sand,
rise on wings;

to be a dog,
or stroke its warm fur;

to tell pain
from everything it’s not;

to squeeze inside events,
dawdle in views,
to seek the least of all possible mistakes;

An extraordinary chance
to remember for a moment
a conversation held with the lamp switched off;

and if only once
to stumble on a stone,
end up soaked in one downpour or another,

mislay your keys in the grass;
and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes;

and to keep on not knowing
something important.

14 Comments

Posted in Humour, Lesson Plans, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged A Note, creativity, education, learning, Mindful Practice, poetry, school, teacher as transformer, Wislawa Szymborska. Bookmark the permalink.

To Look at Any Thing

Posted on January 11, 2013 by ivonprefontaine

It was a busy day. I was alone with the students. Usually, I there is a parent, but today the schedule was unfilled. We were still productive and covered challenging material.

The Grade 7 class is building scenarios and predicting what if learned experience is used in new situations. The Grade 8 class is exploring differences between authority and power. The Grade 9 class is taking and defending positions on the Canadian youth criminal system. Like all good things, learning takes time.

John Moffitt’s poem speaks about a way we learn the world. We should savour it, not consume it.

To look at any thing,
If you would know that thing,
You must look at it long:
To look at this green and say,
‘I have seen spring in these
Woods,’ will not do—you must
Be the thing you see:
You must be the dark snakes of
Stems and ferny plumes of leaves,
You must enter in
To the small silences between the leaves,
You must take your time
And touch the very peace
They issue from.

15 Comments

Posted in Education, Leadership, Lesson Plans, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged creativity, education, John Moffitt, learning, Mindful Practice, poetry, school, servant-leadership, teacher as transformer, To Look at Any Thing. Bookmark the permalink.

The Unplanned, yet Orchestrated

Posted on September 28, 2012 by ivonprefontaine

I promised as I approached the school year:”I would experience the year and live it to the fullest with the students.” Today, this resolve was tested. Due to illnesses and other situations, the number of students dwindled to a handful. I decided to set lesson plans aside and just went with the flow this afternoon. It was an excellent choice. We enjoyed ourselves.

I used Kerpoof Studio, a site for reluctant writers. Students created stories as short animated films. At times, we were silent; while other times we shared and laughed. They helped each other with new technology and I learned right along with them. We had fun.

As I walked the river valley today, I reflected on the unplanned and the rewards offered in and by those moments.

Life–

What is it?

Moments separate;

Yet connected

Unplanned;

Yet orchestrated somehow

Beyond understanding.

Life–

An unmarked journey

Occasional missteps.

Hope against hope

Can I see around corners?

Over hills?

No,

So, accept faith

Feel, sense, rather than see

A gentle hand

A soft light illuminates each experience;

Each step in life.

14 Comments

Posted in Mindful Life, Nature in All Its Glory, Photography, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged community, education, learning, Mindful Practice, nature, photography, teacher as transformer. Bookmark the permalink.

Conversation Circles

Posted on September 7, 2012 by ivonprefontaine

In our classroom, we use a conversation circle. I use it as a time to clarify things from my perspective and allow students to speak about what they would like to do. At other times, we talk about upcoming events. Today in the conversation circle, each student introduced themselves to the group, which seems like a small thing, but sometimes goes unattended in classrooms. I also asked the students about what they want for complementary courses. This is an outgrowth of the conversation circles we held last year. Students want a voice in their learning.

We use a ‘talking stick.’ The person with the ‘talking stick’ is the speaker and others listen. In an era of digital technologies, the stick reinforces a protocol of face-to-face conversation which we increasingly need in our world. The ‘talking stick’ was a gift from a parent last year. She is a member of a First Nation so it has some traditional meaning attached to its design.

The wood is driftwood which came from a local lake and reflects nature’s contributions to the circle. Someone carved a bear head into the top of the stick. In some traditions, the bear symbolizes courage, freedom, and power. The feather is from a hawk. Hawks are visionary and guide the person. The coloured ribbons represent the four directions in the circle. The parent attached a medicine bag. The medicine bag heals, guides and protects, and has materials or objects of value to its carrier.