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Wednesday, April 7, 2010

It's National Poetry Month

And I'm slow jumping on the band wagon. It's been the business of life and a book deadline that's making me irregular on the blog. I love poetry, and I've been reading some of the wonderful blog posts over the last week featuring poetry for children and adults. I've enjoyed the daily interviews with poets over at The Miss Rumphius Effect. Loved the reader's theater version of Love that Dog, one of my favorite novels in verse. Take a few minutes and view it here.

I've been reading, too. I just finished Shakespeare Bats Cleanup, a novel in verse by Ron Koertge. A perfect combination to the first Atlanta Braves baseball game this week. And I'm in the middle of Beanball, another baseball novel . Loving the way Gene Fehler handles such a tragic drama in verse.

Since the reader's theater book I'm working on is about explorers, I hunted down a few poems on the subject to share this month. I just finished a script on the Antarctic expeditions by Robert Falcon Scott and Roald Amundsen. This poem by Joseph Brodsky paints the polar experience in just a few short lines.

A Polar Explorer
by Joseph Brodsky

All the huskies are eaten. There is no space
left in the diary. And the beads of quick
words scatter over his wife's sepia-shaped face
adding the date in question like a mole to her lovely cheek.
Next, the snapshot of his sister. He doesn't spare his kin:
What's been reached is the highest possible latitude!
And, like the silk stocking of a burlesque half-nude
queen, it climbs up his thigh: gangrene.


Roald Amundsen, first explorer to reach the geographic South Pole.








Robert Falcon Scott, reached the South Pole a few weeks after Amundsen. He and his four companions died on the return journey, just 11 miles from their resupply station.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Happy Easter

God’s Grandeur
Gerard Manley Hopkins

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah!
bright wings.






Tuesday, March 30, 2010

The UPS Man Thinks I'm Famous

I got my new business cards last week. I'm officially a "curriculum resource specialist." I suppose it's just a fancy label for bookseller, but it's also a pretty good description of what I do.

Let's say you are a fourth grade teacher in Georgia, where a strongly standards-driven educational system dictates what teachers teach. At some point during the year, you'll be teaching the Inuit, the Kwakiutl, the Nez Perce, the Hopi, the Pawnee, and the Seminole. Then you'll move on to the exploration and settlement of the American colonies, the Revolutionary war, and so forth, until you're just short of the Civil War. If you teach science, you'll be working on stars, the water cycle, weather, light and sound, and ecosystems, among other things. You'll want books on these subjects in your school library. Library bound books at an appropriate reading level. I can help with that.

Lots of schools these days want classroom libraries. Paperback books in the back of the classroom for their students to read during the day. A good percentage of these books should be nonfiction on the topics they study.

A fourth grade teacher needs books in his/her classroom on the appropriate subject, but they also need that subject matter to be written at the level the students are reading. That can vary for a fourth grade classroom. Some students may be reading at or above fourth grade level, but a lot of them won't be. Not only do teachers need books on those specific Native American tribes at a fourth to fifth grade reading level, but also at a second to third grade reading level for their struggling students.

I search for the right books at the right level from my Delaney database of over 75 publishers. That's the part of this job that I love. Matching the books to the needs of the classroom teacher.

One of the perks of being a curriculum resource specialist is that I get lots of samples. Publishers come out with new lists of books twice a year, spring and fall. So I usually get three shipments of books and catalogs somewhere between January and March and again between August and October. Occasionally I order my own samples if I have a customer who would like to see a product. And then there are the specialty products that come at random times of the year. Like the Dr. Jean Literacy kits for Pre-K. Or the Big Books by George that come in some really fabulous canvas bags packaged according to comprehension strategies. A great product for my county that's moving in this direction with every subject.

So let's just say the UPS man knows my address really well.

On Saturday, my husband walked into the salon where he gets his haircut. He's a regular and is pretty well known among the hairdressers. This week there was another man sitting in one of the chairs.

"So how are things going at 4... B.... Drive?" the strange man asked.

"Pretty good, I guess," my husband managed to say.

The hairdresser laughed. "He loves doing that to people. He's the UPS man."

In the ensuing conversation, the UPS man asked, "So what's in all those boxes your wife gets?"

"Books," my husband explained. "She's a writer."

"Well that explains why they're so heavy."

Fast forward....

"So did you tell him they weren't my books?" I asked.

"No, he thinks you're famous!"

Oh good grief.

My husband is extremely supportive of my writing. He thinks everything I write is wonderful, which makes him a sweetheart, but not a very good critiquer.

But here's the heart of the matter. How did the UPS man identify him as the resident of 4... B...... Drive?

You see, it's not me that's famous at all. It's the man and his truck!

Monday, March 22, 2010

A Thunderous Weekend

The annual Thunder in the Valley air show was this weekend. My backyard is in the turnaround flight path for getting back to the airport. So even though we didn't go see the show, we could follow the trail of dust as the the bi-plane looped across the brilliant blue sky and search for jets that outran their own thunder.

In the meantime, there was a wedding going on in my backyard. Not a large one, but a bride in her gown and a groom in his tux saying their vows on the rocks in my creek while the aircraft circled overhead.

What a day!

I recently listened to Half Broke Horses by Jeannette Walls. It's billed as a true-life novel, an interesting twist to the recent memoirs and autobiographies that have been pulled off shelves for their invented facts. Half Broke Horses is based on the life of Walls' grandmother, a thoroughly likable, fearless heroine who rode through the 20th century like a half broke horse herself. A good read with a solid sense of place and an entertaining voice.

On the audio version, the author reads the book herself. In my opinion this is seldom a good choice. A professional reader would have done a much better job. If I ever have a novel published and they ask me to read it on tape, remind me to decline.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Always Time for a Poem

But not much more. So here's to Poetry Friday.

One Heart
by Li-Young Lee

Look at the birds. Even flying
is born

out of nothing. The first sky
is inside you, open

at either end of day.
The work of wings

was always freedom, fastening
one heart to every falling thing.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Back to Daffodils

This weekend I finished another one of the scripts for the reader's theater book I'm working on, so I gave myself permission to do some fun things as a reward.

I finished Irene Latham's fabulous first novel, Leaving Gee's Bend. If you haven't read it yet, go straight to the store and buy a copy. Irene stopped by my blog a few weeks back to talk about the book. You can read the interview here.

After that, I worked in the yard for a few hours. Moved a couple of rose bushes. Yes, I know. I should have done that in January, but I couldn't brave the cold and my shoulder was hurting too much back then. I moved a hydrangea and planted a new variety that my nephew brought a few weeks back. And I planted a couple of basil plants in the same spot the tomato plants refused to grow last year. It looks like good dirt. And I added a little fertilizer, so maybe they will flourish.

Then I wandered around my yard and enjoyed the daffodils. Who knew there could be so many different kinds!








The single spindly ones, the orange-centered ones, the double ones, and the whites.




And there are the lilies-of-the-valley blooming alongside.

It was a good weekend. Now it's time to get back to work. Seven more scripts to finish and a deadline to meet.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Poetry Friday: A Good Cry

Everyone needs one once in a while.

Crying
by Galway Kinnell

Crying only a little bit
is no use. You must cry
until your pillow is soaked!
Then you can get up and laugh.
Then you can jump in the shower
and splash-splash-splash!
Then you can throw open your window
and, "Ha ha! Ha ha!"
And if people say, "Hey,
what's going on up there?"
"Ha ha!" sing back, "Happiness
was hiding in the last tear!
I wept it! Ha ha!"