How to Police Your Child’s Reading- A Sure Fire Way to Get Them NOT to Love Reading.

As a children’s book enthusiast/literacy advocate/reading coach and forever and a day second grade teacher, I’m often fielding a core set of parent based questions about their child’s reading life, namely how to best direct it or executive produce it, that is. You might be inclined to say that’s because we live in LA – however I am going to vigorously shake my head and disagree. Whether Chicago, Brazil or L.A.- it doesn’t matter.  Seventeen years as a “seasoned” second grade educator and I’m still listening to pretty much to the same “concerns.” 

And so, a few weeks ago, in speaking informally with a colleague, the topic regarding her own child’s literacy life emerged. I was once again presented with the golden question. “So, my son still isn’t reading at home for fun. He isn’t picking up a book with regularity and independence. I mean, I make him read to me. He wants me to read to him and I do that too, but I think he needs to read, so I make him read a page then I read a page.”

I saw it coming but then again, I had opened the can of worms, I mean it was I who had asked her the question: Tell me what you do at home? I was prepared to lean in and listen. I let her share and when finished, I acknowledged that yes, having your child read aloud has its benefits and then respectfully went in and pressed. “So, tell me, has policing his reading instiledl in him a love for reading?” 

She looked at me Her now widened bright eyes said it all.

“Okay- WOW! Tell me more! she said. I smiled. Appreciating her response and  continued, “time and time again I have heard all too similar stories about this tried and true recipe for disaster method for nurturing their young readers. AND, once again, it begs me to circle back and respond in question- How does having your young reader read aloud to you, make them fall in love with books?  I mean, how’s that working for ya? 

Teacher rule no. 1- always be able to answer (or, better yet, demonstrate): WHY ARE WE DOING THIS?

If you’re having to MAKE them read to you- could this “making” very well be defeating your greater goal? Why do this? Are you listening in for fluency, accuracy, phrasing? Are you listening to coach? Or listening to police--- to mandate? 

If it’s the former, then I definitely have some tips for HOW to listen,  what to listen for, how long to listen for, and how to name what they’re doing well and effectively coach them.

But if your why is all tied up in the latter- to encourage and foster a love of reading then please stop where you are and step away from the young reader.

To lead you must learn to follow. I think to myself.

Are you following?

CREATE and leave your TROUBLES BEHIND....

Ok, it's been awhile. A long while. I won't pretend.

I am thrilled to back on the horse and giving myself full permission to create again.

It's something I am actually thinking about a lot these days.  

My new second grade class is now in full swing.  Today officially marks one week that we have been second grading together and I am already hearing myself repeat the same mantra over and over---

"WHEN WE DON'T CREATE, WE CREATE TROUBLE".

I am using this as fuel not only to allow my own artist to play, but moreover, to remind my kiddos to be overly protective of their play time- of their time to imagine, of their time to dream and to create.

I don't believe that taking away their playtime is the road to getting kids to behave.

I believe the opposite- if you want an engaged, productive and vibrant group of happy students,  and I want to reinforce, HAPPY-then you have to allow for creativity- it must be intentionally planned and allotted for and you must absolutely bottom line insist that they too, become stealth guardians of their "play"  time. 

Antagonist Speak.. Georgia vs. Her SELF

Antagonists Speak... if you listen that is.

An exercise.

Meet Georgia.

"I love ballet. I love cowboys. I love gladiators.  And I love astronauts and I love everything. Why do I have to choose a career anyway?

I drew a picture of me in a space shuttle wearing my cowboy hat and pink tutu. Ms. Vega told me I didn’t follow directions.  But in my own way, I did. I drew myself wearing and being all the things I want to be. 

I can’t to do my homework and I ‘m not good at deciding.  Ms. Vega didn’t like my ideas. So now everyone in class is probably just going to laugh at me and Ms. Vega will say I didn’t do it right anyway.

I know. I’m going to be sick tomorrow. I ‘m going to tell Mom that my tummy hurts and that I can’t go to school cause I will have a fever. 

Mommy will say, yes and let me stay home. She will make me grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup and rub my head and Ms. Vega will be sorry. She’ll be sad that I am sick and wonder if it’s all her fault."

- Georgia, age 7

All Or Nothing! My new favorite quote...amei

Tread Lightly....sensory exercise take 2

Sensory Exercise- The BestPlace
God’s Country

I step onto the hot tarmac just having left the confines of a dizzying single engine plane. I don’t do well with motion sickness.Especially when it’s hot and the humidity, too thick to breathe my way to feeling better, blankets you in a stifling thermal layer. It even smells humid.Lush. Wet. Green.
My stomach does a few loops and twists before I’m able to really feel like I’m breathing again. Just being out of the plane relieves my soul. I sigh.
I gain my footing. Dizzying whirls now slow down.
And
I
 just
stand
there.
It’s distinctly raw, virgin type land.
The sun pounces on us and the tarmac and yet, I suddenly can’t feel the heat anymore.
I’m lulled. Blue Hyacinth McCaw flirt and flutter above our heads. Seeming now to have announce we’ve arrived.  I smile, entranced.

Swamps, marsh, lakes, and forests, lots of forest, takeup the land. A giant magic mosaic carpet…


We aren’t alone. Foreboding creatures lay still sunbathing in the afternoon hothouse.
My heart kicks itself and its beat goes up a few notches.


Night falls.
Rain boots squish in the mud.
My flashlight spills upon redeyes set ablaze.
Where guttural barks echo through vast waterways,distinctly un-dog like;

Caiman!

Where am I?
I'm in God's country where you're advised to treadlightly.
In the world’s largest wetlands; Brazil’s,Pantanal.

Heart Held Dreams...

Quote of my day:

The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why."

-Mark Twain


Something about that quote just makes me smile from the inside.
Take a moment to contemplate all that you are.
Then celebrate.

 

Join me! Sensory Exercise #2 Describe the Best or Worst Place

This writing exercise is meant to to help jog the muscles.
Writing is after all, a muscle.
So, use it.

Today I am inviting readers to write.
Please describe the best or worst place you've ever been to.
Incorporate all the senses.

Get us there.
Ready. Set. Go!

I'll write back with my version.
Please post yours :)


Here is my version...

A blood orange sky.

A single engine plane.

Humidity blankets

the wet smell of land.

Pure. Lush. Green.

I step onto the tarmac.
Lulled right in...

blue Hyacinth McCaw’s announce
I’ve arrived.

Night falls.
Rain boots squish in the mud.
A looming presence

foreboding creatures.

My flashlight falls
onto red eyes set ablaze.
Guttural barks echo
through waterways.

Distinct and un-dog like;

Caiman.

I'm in God's country.
Where you're advised to tread lightly.

Here. In the world’s largest wetlands;
Brazil’s, Pantanal.

Swimming Around in My Earliest Memory: A sensory exercise....

I am three or four years old, max and we rented a small cabin on a lake. I think we are in Missouri but I can’t be sure. We never traveled much after my early childhood years, especially after my baby brother was born. That’s probably another reason why I can remember it.  It was sunny. The kind of summer time-stick-to-your skin hot. The humidity clung onto my skin and made my red hair frizz out more than normal.  I had on my little blue canvas sneakers and my white and red floral applique bathing suit. I loved that thing.  I also wore what would be the near death of me, a plastic inner tube around my waist.  I felt like a big girl.

Our cabin sat right on a little wooden dock. I was so proud to be able to walk right up to the lake and jump in all by myself. 

I don’t remember if my parents were in the water or if the front door to the cabin was open where they kept an ear from inside.  Maybe I simply walked out on my own but that part is hard to recall.  I was in my little baby inner tube, kicking and floating about happily. The cool water felt good and I was having a ball. All was well, or so I thought. 

I don’t know how it happened but it happened. All of sudden water rushed deep into my nose and throat.  My little legs now upright, sticking out in the air were thrashing about.  I tried calling for help but that made it worse.  I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t turn right side up. I’m completely upside down stuck and drowning in that damn inner tube.  I tried paddling and pushing the water away with my tiny hands in hopes to get back up for much needed air. No use. The inner tube held me prisoner.  Head under water and panic rushed in. 

That’s when someone grabbed hold of my legs and pulled me right up.  I couldn’t yet see, but I heard him. He was yelling and calling out for help. After the coughing and simultaneous crying stopped, he came into focus: Dad.  My hero. 

Dad pulled me out and saved me from the grips of that stupid F&^-ing inner tube.

And I never wore one again.  

Been a While...here goes nothing...A LOVE STORY

Gio wasn’t planned on. In fact, after already having two adolescents my sister, Myrna believed she was done having kids.  Like DONE, and admitted in not having used contraception in like, forever.  Her partner, Julio wanted kids but, my sister wasn’t getting pregnant. 

End of story?

No.  It’s just the beginning.

So one BIG day in May the highly  (un)anticipated, Gio arrived in the world with a head full of curls and big bright eyes, so shiny and full of life! Yep, Gio had arrived.  So this story begins right here. The minute he was born.

Lives changed.
Julio was now a first time Dad.  He held Gio in his arms and a love too immense for words for that boy welled in Julio’s heart.  Tears streamed and poured out of Julio’s eyes as he gazed at his beautiful little boy. Gio was gorgeous.  From the top of that curly head all the way down to his chubby toes.  Beautiful. Strong. Brilliant.

Gio was a healthy brand new baby boy.  My sister and brother in law took him home to my mom’s house where everyone was living under one big roof.  My mom, stepdad, sister, her husband and three kids. … Not at all an easy living situation, but that’s another story.

Gio grew and developed. He hit some early milestones and his pictures, like lots of babies on Facebook drew legions of “Likes” from family and friends.  He is a cutie. I admit, I too hit “Like” every time.

So fast forward to eight or nine months later and I am visiting my family, hanging out in the living room with the pungent smell of garlic, onions, green pepper and cilantro simmering together. A smell that confirms I’m home.  My Puerto Rican home, that is. 
So I’m sitting in the living room assaulted by the smells that will long stay cemented in my hair and clothes after I’ve eaten, thinking, “hey, Ill play with Gio while dinner is being prepared.”

At this point Gio is crawling around on the rug near the corner of the living room and I start calling his name. Gio is way too enthralled with his wooden toy cars to give me the time of day.  “I get it,” I think to myself so I decide to join him on the rug.  I crouch down to his eye-level so I can play too.  Cars or no cars, I can get any baby’s attention.   I crouch down.

I say his name, "Gio...."

I say it again. "Giooo..."

Then again.

"Gio-vanni"
Gio will not lift his eyes to meet mine.
What?!  Babies don't ignores me…I mean me,,  Im like the amazing aunt who makes the kids laugh and  buy them cool gifts. I can get any baby, like any baby to smile.


I give it one last go. “GIO-VANNI” I say using my most teacher voice possible.
NADA.  The kid will not look at me.

So I try to join the play, you know, I get in there and try playing cars with him, "vroom-vroom and all that stuff.  He removes each car I touch, one by one from my hand and continues to line up his cars and hum.  He does not stop humming.

And he will not play with me.

In fact, he is not playing. He is only repeating motions, lining up cars and re-lining up the cars.

That’s when I call my sister.
I call out to her and she knows my call is serious. My tone is concerned, not big sister concerned…but the strong teacher in me kinda voice concerned and I say,   “Gio won’t make eye contact Myrna. I’ve tried many times. He doesn’t look at me. Can he  hear me?
My sister’s crystal blue eyes shoot downwards and she swoops up Gio in an effort to get his attention and say, "See…" perhaps unconsciously wanting to prove me wrong. 
He doesn’t give her direct eye contact either.

Silence.

I look at my sister.
She shrugs a defeating shrug that says, “I know. I know.”

And I just wanna hold her and tell her not to worry, not to think the worst, not to beat herself up,
not yet…but I don’t....

I go into quick acting-fast on my toes thinking teacher mode and say, “He needs testing, we have to rule out hearing.”  She sighs big and says, I know, I know Sister, I was just hoping he needed more time. “

“No. There is no more time.
Get on it Myrna.
Get him tested so we can help him now.”

And the rest of the story just goes and goes…and still goes. 

She got him tested.  Gio wasn’t deaf, Thank god.

Gio is autistic. Rather, he is on the spectrum.
Asperger’s.

The good news? We tested quick. And Myrna went after lots of early intervention.
A whole support team saw him through his infancy and really made a dramatic impact on his development. 
They helped desensitize him to grass, sand, by literally brushing his skin.
They assisted him with his speech.
Providing my sister with consistent language and talk to help Gio express his needs constructively.
The team saw my sister through many a rough patches…. The tantrums, the unsafe climbing and wandering off and tug of war he played with his safety.
The bad news?
Truth is, there is no bad news, that’s the real good news. 
He has Asperger’s and now we say, AND?

Giovanni is beautiful.
He’s bright and uniquely his own person.
He will always have challenges and well, won’t we all?

While there are still rough patches,  days where my sister wants to scream, punch a wall, and pick at the old glue of emotional band-aids and lick her wounds.
Re-dressing the same wounds gets old.
Because what hurts the most are the ignorant comments and unsympathetic remarks about those kind-of kids.
Myrna is a hero. His hero.
She's his greatest advocate and sometimes, many times,
she’s exhausted.

The good news?
Her love for Gio is inexhaustible.
And in the end that’s all that matters anyway, love.

Creativity for Free

Tonight my Artist's Way class (led by the ridiculously talented and beautiful, Caroline O'Brien) discussed risks and the fact that we don't take creative risks because we want to be guaranteed a positive outcome.

Sound familiar?

Julia Cameron, in Finding Water, writes, "We think that  risks have to be large and noteworthy.  We want a payoff  in terms of our career. In order to free up our creativity, we need to be able to do some creativity for free,that is, with no guaranteed outcome.  We need to practice some creativity that is not goal-oriented. Put simply, we need to let ourselves play."

Ears perking up? Good.

So what small creative risks will you allow yourself to pursue this week?

Grab a pen and scribble the five tiny risks you will take towards playing.

I'll share mine. Perhaps that will get you going ...

1. Paint my toes bright blue
2. Write a blog post in voice of my character
3.  Bake my favorite childhood cake: chocolate with chocolate fudge frosting
4. Write a blog post about taking creative risks (check!)
5. I will spend time at a children's book store for the pure joy of it


Got creativity?

Yah you do.
Play your heart out and post any risks you took.




"It is making of art, not the reception of your art that makes you an artist"

Letting Go and...Letting Your Character Be

How easy I forget.

I forget again and again.

Writing is not a one shot, sit at your desk, and flesh out your entire story deal.

I forget that characters reveal themselves slowly, very s l o w l y.

Back story is their story.  So better take a back seat and listen.



My writer's tip for better listening...

1. Walk away from your computer.
2. Grab a pen and paper
3. Go outside and sit somewhere your character would sit
4. Now write a letter to yourself in voice of your character.

Be open.
Be present.
Be interested.

You'll like what you hear.


Listening to the voices that tell their individual stories
is what we authors do.

Let go.  Let be.

Enjoy.

Timeline: 30 Years of Liberating Lit

 Got banned books?

Checkout this beautiful resource from the ALA website, Banned Books Week.
Use in the classroom, at home with your children, or to simply understand how the fight to liberate literature continues...

Read on!



http://www.ala.org/advocacy/banned/frequentlychallenged/timeline30-years-liberating-literature

Banned Books Week

I am in LOVE.
With books.

Today was a great day in publishing.
32 new titles were unveiled.
A birthday book bash to remember.

I find it fitting that Banned Books Week coincides with today's release date.
Love it, in fact.

If you find yourself in need of a little Banned Books enthusiasm, I leave with this gorgeous video.

It says it all.


http://www.bannedbooksweek.org/node/20

WriteOnCon(ference) A Month Away...Let's Go?!

WriteOnCon Is A Month Away?!

What is WriteOnCon?

WriteOnCon is an Online Children’s Writers Conference (rated MC-18, for Main Characters under 18 only) created by writers, for writers.

Where: http://www.writeoncon.com

Cost: Free!

Who: That’s the best part—it’s for EVERYONE!

Attendees don’t need to take time off work, travel, or spend a truckload of money. They can enjoy the conference from the convenience of their own homes, for free—and the schedule is designed around working hours. (Transcripts are also available of the entire conference, should anyone have to miss part of it.) And everything for the conference takes place within this website, which means everyone with basic Internet access will be able to participate in all aspects of the conference—no additional software or technology required.

During the conference, keynote addresses, agent panels, and lectures are presented as blogs, vlogs, moderated chats, webinars, podcasts, and livestreaming. There is also a critique forum, where participants can post query letters and writing samples to receive helpful feedback and comments from their peers and industry professionals. And, as if that weren’t exciting enough, there are also daily contests, giving random winners everything from books to personalized critiques from agents.

It’s everything great about a writer’s conference, without any of the cost or inconvenience. August 2011 can’t come fast enough! And don’t miss our Monthly Live Events in the meantime!

This year, they welcome literary agents Cheryl Pientka, Daniel Lazar, Peter Knapp, Michelle Humphrey, Mollie Glick, Emily Keyes, Sarah Davies, andKatie Grimm!
Something interesting...

"There may or may not but definitely are additional agents on our faculty, but we can’t tell you who they are, because they’re Ninjas!

That’s right! Our Ninja Agent program will be in effect this year, which means industry professionals will be in the forums, looking at your query letters, pitches, and anything else they want! We’ve had some great success stories from the Ninja Agents, and we encourage you to get your queries and pitches solidified in preparation for the conference."

What do you say writer friends?  Let's do this!

http://writeoncon.com/2012/07/writeoncon-is-one-month-away/

Musings and other simple things....

Musings for today...what words come to mind?

Expectations

Great Expectations...

I've been on hiatus. A blogging hiatus.  Way too many expectations about what I should and could be blogging about were clogging my imagination.  Life was happening BIG time and I decided to slow down and take a breather.

I'm happy to announce the blog is back.  Life is still happening. And the blog lives on.

Only this time it is going back up and out into the world without those silly ties to expectations.  

It is what it is.  What will be will be.

Enjoy.

Write as if No One is Reading!...Failure Means Nature Will Find A Way....

"Where Tree Meets Sidewalk Nature will Find A Way"

This photo (courtesy of The Matador Network on Facebook) caught my eye and my heart today.

It's Easter Sunday and I think, just as this tree meets the sidewalk, writers too, have to meet the page. Writers endure huge obstacles and challenges in the ever changing face of the publishing world. 

It's easy to lose hope, to become disillusioned by the publishing process.  On Writer Unboxed  guest blogger, author Robin LaFevers shared some poignant truths. Robin, a multi-published author and co-founder of the blog, Shrinking Violet, says, "Just as we must dance as if no one is watching, we must write as if no one is reading.

Sometimes the only way we can get to a place where we can do that is when everything else we’ve tried hasn’t worked, or has worked minimally. Years of encouraging “great writing but I’m just not passionate about it” type rejection letters. Languishing in the mid-list. Or having a career tank altogether.

Sometimes, when you have nothing left to lose is when you finally have the courage to stop holding back".

Seeing "failure" as a critical step in our process is authentic and as real as it gets.  
Just as the tree meets the sidewalk, we too will find a way.



Links and mentions...

before I forget...I also think of Allen Zadoff, author of, Girls, Food, and Other Things I Can't Have. He's worth checking out too.   Gave a great workshop at SCBWI westside schmooze.  Spoke to this so very eloquently...http://allenzadoff.com/blog/page/2/


For-those-we-lose-along-way
http://writerunboxed.com
http://shrinkingvioletpromotions.blogspot.com/p/for-those-we-lose-along-way.html

A Critical War on Books and Race. Matt de la Peña's, Mexican Whiteboy Fights Back.

I'm inspired tonight. Very inspired.  Thanks to Matt de la Pena, I've got some urgent blogging to do.

In case you haven't heard, "on Jan. 1, after a new state law targeting Mexican-American studies courses that are perceived as antiwhite was upheld, it became illegal to teach Matt' s book,  “Mexican WhiteBoy” in Tucson’s classrooms. State officials cited the book as containing “critical race theory,” a violation under a provision that prohibits lessons “promoting racial resentment.” See the attached link for the full article...Racial Lens Used to Cull Curriculum in Arizona

As a teacher, a latina and writer I must stand up and say, "No, not okay."


Stories are meant to be told.
Stories are here, like it or not.
They validate, educate, and honor.

They give us dignity and grace, as Matt de la Peña knows.

Stories make us.
They shape, define, and foster understanding.

I'm with Matt. I'm telling my story.
...sticking to it.

Censoring won't stop stories.
Censoring won't hide truths.

It's the American dream to be your story.
It's the American dream to live it, breathe it, honor it.
The dream to take your story; your life, in the direction of your dreams applies to all.

And that's exactly what I'll do.
Thanks Matt, I needed that reminder.

Got some stories to tell?... better get to it!

Si, se puede!

Back in the Saddle Not The Wheel.

Whew.  What a ride.

Holidays, family in Brazil, a cruise ship, a return to the classroom, and a giant hamster wheel made for one busy mind. I had all the excuses and reasons to opt of out of working on my picture book manuscripts.  Even my blog took a back seat to the hamster wheel that is my inner chatter.

Self-defeating? Indeed.
Today I read a great article in the SCBWI bulletin by Donna Gephart titled, Stop This Hamster Wheel and read a couple of my favorite blogs. Sharon Creech included.
I could bear the guilt no longer.
I packed up the wheel and got back in the saddle,
here and now.

How?
Sitting in stillness.
Closing my eyes and letting it, the inner chatter go.
Goodbye wheel.

Setting my intention back to bigger wheels...
the wheels that churn out my dreams.

Feels good. Real good.

Try stepping off your own hamster wheel today.
Take one giant baby step towards your goals.
C'mon you can do it!






 

Nothing to Give? Hold On, There is The Gift of Nothing.

There is beauty here, I thought to myself.
After reading an article tweeted/posted by Kristan Hoffman (love her blog!)made me instantly think of a book.

A picture book, of course.
No surprise there.

First, take a moment to read about Santa's list and its steady decline...http://news.yahoo.com/santa-finds-kids-giving-shorter-lists-recession-194256833.html


Read it? Good. Now there is so much here that makes you wanna bury your face in a Kleenex box, this I know. There is more however that touches the soul.

And I can't help to think what a beautiful message there is in this for all of us.
A gift really.

Speaking of gifts... have YOU read, The Gift Of Nothing?
Go to www.giftofnothing.com

Perhaps this book can help us attempt to answer those tough questions that arise in the article...
perhaps this very kid's book can help old and young remember the true gift of giving and receiving...perhaps.
Believe.