During the holidays we did a few hymn studies. These are really expanded literary studies in poetry. We spend time on vocabulary, learning any words we do not already know. We look to understand any symbolism, metaphors, etc. We point out poetic devices used and how they influence the chosen language. We pick apart and put back together, appreciating the tiniest nuances and the grandest themes. We dig for meaning and look for personal applications.
One of the hymns we focused on was "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing," which is one of my favorites. In addition to studying it literally, we listened to several arrangements and compared the musicality. Then there was an interpretive art component where the kids sought images to personally illustrate each verse for themselves.
To really understand this hymn, it's important to know what in the world "Here I raise my Ebenezer" means. I found"Raising Your Ebenezer: A Monument to Remember"which is a wonderful lesson on that which we read and talked a lot about.
Finally, though I don't think I've met a version I don't like, I'll share one of my favorite arrangements of the piece. I like the "I will sing" bridge additions. Also, I like some of the images and quotes in the following video.
I always have good intentions for days like Veterans Day, but they haven't always come to fruition. I suppose that's because previously that day hasn't really been carved in my heart. Growing up I don't remember much mention of Veterans Day--it was always a misunderstood afterthought as I'd wonder why the library was closed or the mail didn't come and then I'd get the explanation, "It's Veterans Day." Okay, so what? What a shame. I don't know why that was, nor do I understand how WWI somehow never made it on my internal hard drive of history. I knew it happened, but never knew why or much else about it.
During my adult years I've slowly learned more and have wanted my children to appreciate and observe Veterans Day. Some years I've succeeded in marking the day, but we haven't been consistent and I've always felt we should do more. It doesn't help that November 11 somehow seems to sneak up on me. I'm in autumn mode, then Thanksgiving mode, and Veterans Day just kind of surprises me there in the middle.
Thanks to my friend, Audrey, we were pointed in the direction of a few other great resources for the day. My favorites were this dramatic reading of "In Flanders Fields" by Leonard Cohen...
... and the video reading of The Poppy Lady, an inspiring biographical picture book of Moina Belle Michael by Barbara Walsh.
We Shall Keep the Faith
by Moina Michael, November 1918
Moina Michael
Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields,
Sleep sweet - to rise anew!
We caught the torch you threw
And holding high, we keep the Faith
With All who died.
We cherish, too, the poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led;
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies,
But lends a lustre to the red
Of the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders Fields.
And now the Torch and Poppy Red
We wear in honor of our dead.
Fear not that ye have died for naught;
We'll teach the lesson that ye wrought
In Flanders Fields.
The above poem was Moina's personal, quickly penned poetic pledge after reading "In Flanders Fields. She certainly made good on her pledge! I think her poem is just as compelling.
I was also grateful that we were able to tie into our biology and botany studies discussing the conditions in which the poppies were able to flourish on a battlefield, namely that the churned, war-torn earth surfaced the dormant seeds and conditions, including an unusually warm spring, were suited to the poppies thriving. The poppies are not just a symbol of remembrance, but also a symbol of hope, of life after death.
Here are photos of a couple of our projects at the end of the day, mine and one of my children's.
I inherited an old box of music from my mother-in-law when she made a long-distance move. Every now and then I go through the stack. It's interesting to me how one piece will mean nothing to me one month, but then really catch my eye another. This month, as we have been studying to topic of faith, I was delighted to come across a gem written by Samuel T. Scott and Robert L. Sande. Here are the words.
Prayer is the key to Heaven,
But faith unlocks the door;
Words are so easily spoken,
A prayer without faith, is like a boat without an oar.
Have faith, when you speak to the Master,
That's all He asks you for,
Yes, prayer is the key to Heaven,
But faith unlocks the door.
This is a poem to memorize!
I've also shared another great song with my whole family that I have been teaching to the Primary children in my ward. This was published in the Friend in 2007. I have turned more and more to music from the Friend recently as there are some fantastic pieces in there to teach doctrine, build faith, and also to mix things up.
There is probably a good chance you have already seen Graeme Base's Animalia and enjoyed the fantastic illustrations and awesome, alliterative text. There are more ways to utilize this book, however, that just enjoying it as a nice picture book. It's a great tool to help your children with their language skills.
First thing, of course, is to read and enjoy the book--especially if you never have. For young children just learning the alphabet, it is enough to identify the letters and their sounds from the text and then hunt through the pictures for all the objects in them that begin with each letter. Each page is an adventure!
The next objective is vocabulary. I guarantee there are some words used which your child is not familiar with. That is very beneficial. After the initial read, I asked my children to go through the text and identify each word they weren't sure the meaning of. Then I sent them on a search in the dictionary. After learning the meaning of these words it was time to re-read the book with a new understanding. (Depending on your child and his or her age, you may still need to participate in this second reading to help explain context and help them fully understand.)
Vocabulary expansion is coupled with grammar in the next activity. There are two ways to do this. One is to have your child copy the text of Animalia, either by handwriting or typing, and color code the parts of speech. For example, each noun would be in blue, each verb in red, etc. The other way is to have your child identify each part of speech in a different reading. For example, one day the child would read the book and make a list of all nouns in the text as he goes, then the next day he would read the book and make a list of all adjectives, etc.
Finally, focus on alliteration. This book is superbly alliterative and a brilliant example to learn from and imitate. Have your child choose a topic on which to write about, like food or a sport or something else she is familiar with or excited about, and then letter by letter through the alphabet and using Animalia as an example, have your child write their own alliterative lines about his chosen topic, making sure to include all parts of speech in each line. It's hard, and it's meant to be. Often we can be alliterative, but we're cheap and lazy and silly in doing so and don't force ourselves to really stretch and include all parts of speech, which makes us think and expand our vocabularies further.
I am sure there are more lessons this fabulous book could lend a hand with, but this is what I've come up with so far. Happy reading, writing, and homeschooling!
Old video tapes made for gospel lessons by the LDS Churchincluded the following film based on Myra Brooks Welch's poem, "The Touch of the Master's Hand." From the very first time I saw this film, I was greatly impressed and affected.
I included this gem in our poetry studies. First we read the poem together and discussed it, then we watched the film. Still gets me.
The Touch of the Master's Hand
'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?"
"A dollar, a dollar. Then two! Only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?"
"Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three…" But no,
From the room, far back, a grey-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loosened strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet,
As a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: "What am I bid for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.
"A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice,
And going and gone," said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand.
What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply:
"The touch of the Master's hand."
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd
Much like the old violin.
A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine,
A game — and he travels on.
He is "going" once, and "going" twice,
He's "going" and almost "gone."
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.
Interestingly, it is said that Myra Welch wrote this poem in just 30 minutes after listening to a speaker address a group of students on the power of God to bring out the best in people. She said that she became filled with light. She sent her poem to a church bulletin to be published anonymously because she felt that it was a gift from God and it didn't need her name on it.
Myra Brooks Welch lived from 1878 to 1950 and is best known for this poem, "The Master's Hand," written in 1921. As a youth she loved to play the organ but later in life she suffered badly from arthritis and spent much of her life in a wheelchair. In order to write she held an inverted pencil in each of her gnarled hands so she could pick out the words on a typewriter. She said that the joy of her writing outweighed any pain of the effort.
Okay, so in a soliloquy one IS talking to him or herself. But did you know that?
Studying"The Cowboy's Soliloquy"introduced the word soliloquy so it was the perfect time to discuss its meaning. Plus, the most famous soliloquy in all of literature is Hamlet's musings on death and sleep and existence, and it segued perfectly into Shakespeare.
Sometimes we forget that like poetry and creative writing, drama is a part of literary studies, too. Someone has to write everything before it can be acted out! So what is a soliloquy and how can it be a poem and a part of drama? And wait--it sounds similar to a monologue. What's the difference?
Thankfully, some clever, helpful people have put together some videos to aptly demonstrate these terms for us. (How did we LIVE before YouTube?)
Can't get enough of Samwise Gamgee! Truly one of my favorite characters in all of literature.
In all of my years of public school English (and History) I never once heard of cowboy poetry. It wasn't until we did a Westward Movement unit study in our homeschool that then narrowed into a unit on cowboys (and horses) that I became aware that cowboys have their own genre of poetry all to themselves, which is worth taking a look at.
At one of our many stops along the Oregon Trail I picked up this entertaining CD to help us pass the drive time:
It's a combination of cowboy banjo, fiddle, and yodel, with some tracks of poetry in between. "The Lady in the Church" by Jared Nesset and "Diaper Rodeo" by Bill Boycott are giggle poems to break the ice with kids who think they don't want to listen.
Charlie Daniels made a fantastic CD for kids that is really great to use with a Cowboy or Westward Movement unit study; not only is it toe-tapping good music but he also narrates some bits that teach history. Most of the songs would be classified as ballads by poetic standards and thus perfect in our current study of poetry. For our poetry studies, we specifically focused on the ballad of John Henry on this CD, and "Cowboy Logic" as part of the genre of cowboy poetry.
Cowboy poetry is like Shakespeare in that it is meant to be performed. Believe it or not, there are a lot of professional and hobbyist cowboy poets out there and several midwestern and western states have a lot of large gatherings for shows, sharing, and appreciation.
One up and coming cowboy poet on the performing circuit is twelve-year-old Thatch Elmer, the Bear River Buckaroofrom Wyoming. Click that link and you can listen to some of his stuff.
We also checked out a book of cowboy poetry, both for the genre and for some more balladsto add to our studies. I previewed it and flagged some specific poems for the kids to read (along with the introduction).
The poems I felt suited our purpose best were "The Cowboy's Soliloquy" by Allen McCanless, "The Flyin' Outlaw" by Curley Fletcher, "The Cowboy's Prayer" by Curley Fletcher, "Tribute to Freckles and Tornado" by Jon Bowerman, and "Easy Chairs and Saddle Sores" by Ross Knox.
I told the kids that after they read all of those they needed to choose one of them to read aloud to me since they're meant to be shared that way. Interestingly, "The Cowboy's Soliloquy" was the favorite for this activity. This old poem was first published in 1885, but was certainly recited long before that. It's thoughtful, figurative, and includes an interesting commentary on the similarities between cowboys and Biblical patriarchs.
I hope that more teachers will incorporate cowboy poetry into both their literary studies and their explorations of the culture of the American West. From descriptive ballads telling a range of stories to anecdotal, legendary, and downright funny verse, to pensive appreciation for life and work and nature, cowboy poetry isn't just for cowboys.
A ballad is a narrative composition in rhythmic verse. It's a poem or song that tells a story. Typically it consists of 4-line stanzas. The most common rhyming scheme is ABCB or ABAB, but others such as a duo of couplets, AABB, are also employed. Often there is a lesson in the versed story, but it isn't implicitly stated.
To introduce the ballad, after discussing the literary traits of one, I chose first to read aloud The Ballad of Valentine. It's super cute and imparts the basics of a ballad well--plus it's February.
Next I went with something all of my kids will relate to well and be interested in: baseball. I printed off copies of "Casey at the Bat"for everyone and I read it aloud while they followed along. After each stanza I asked them to rephrase what was going on. At the end we found and discussed poetic devices throughout the poem. (They've already been taught all the devices of poetry, so it's just a matter of them pointing them out. You can skip that part if you're not there yet.)
The Outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day: The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play. And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same, A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast; They thought, if only Casey could get but a whack at that - We'd put up even money, now, with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake, And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake; So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat, For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all, And Blake, the much despis-ed, tore the cover off the ball; And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred, There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell; It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell; It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat, For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place; There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face. And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat, No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt; Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt. Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip, Defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there. Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped- "That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar, Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore. "Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand; And its likely they'd a-killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone; He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on; He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew; But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud; But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed. They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate; He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate. And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go, And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright; The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; But there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out.
Then, for a little icing on the cake, we watched Disney's 1946 animated version of this great baseball ballad.
We followed that up with Disney's 1954 sequel, "Casey Bats Again." Some people nowadays might find this offensive. It's certainly not politically correct! But it IS cleverly written and we get a kick out of it. We do all agree, however, that Casey is once, and twice, and probably forever, a very foolish person.
Tomorrow we'll read other classic ballads and try writing our own. And hopefully at least some of my kids will take me up on my cash offer to anyone who memorizes "Casey at the Bat."
This year I shared my two favorite silly Valentine poems, both by cleverJudith Viorst. I LOVE these poems! We analyzed the rhyming scheme in each, then, every person received a bowl of random conversation hearts with the charge to write a silly Valentine poem, trying to incorporate as many of the phrases on the candies as possible, making it rhyme and also make sense.
Here are Judith's two poems:
Short Love Poem
It's hard to love
The tallest girl
When you're the shortest guy,
For every time
You try to look
Your true love in the eye
You see
Her bellybutton.
The Lizzie Pitofsky Poem
I can't get enoughsky
Of Lizzie Pitofsky.
I love her so much that it hurts.
I want her so terrible
I'd give her my gerbil
Plus twenty-two weeks of desserts.
I know that it's lovesky
'Cause Lizzie Pitofsky
Is turning me into a saint.
I smell like a rose,
I've stopped picking my nose,
And I practically never say ain't.
I don't push and shovesky
"Cause Lizzie Pitofsky
Likes boys who are gentle and kind.
I'm not throwing rocks
And I'm changing my socks
(And to tell you the truth I don't mind).
Put tacks in my shoes,
Feed me vinegar juice,
And do other mean bad awful stuffsky.
But promise me this:
I won't die without kiss-
Ing my glorious Lizzie Pitofsky.
A great tool for demonstrating alliteration to students is the retelling of the story of the prodigal son--"in the key of F." You can't get more alliterative than this! I sure wish I knew who wrote this. It is brilliant and they deserve credit!
The Prodigal Son in the Key of F
Feeling footloose and frisky, a featherbrained fellow forced his father to fork over his farthings. Fast he flew to foreign fields and frittered his family's fortune, feasting fabulously with floozies and faithless friends. Flooded with flattery he financed a full-fledged fling of "funny foam" and fast food.
Fleeced by his fellows in folly, facing famine, and feeling faintly fuzzy, he found himself a feed-flinger in a filthy foreign farmyard. Feeling frail and fairly famished, he fain would have filled his frame with foraged food from the fodder fragments.
"Fooey," he figured, "my father's flunkies fare far fancier," the frazzled fugitive fumed feverishly, facing the facts. Finally, frustrated from failure and filled with foreboding (but following his feelings) he fled from the filthy foreign farmyard.
Faraway, the father focused on the fretful familiar form in the field and flew to him and fondly flung his forearms around the fatigued fugitive. Falling at his father's feet, the fugitive floundered forlornly, "Father, I have flunked and fruitlessly forfeited family favor."
Finally, the faithful Father, forbidding and forestalling further flinching, frantically flagged the flunkies to fetch forth the finest fatling and fix a feast.
Faithfully, the father's first-born was in a fertile field fixing fences while father and fugitive were feeling festive. The foreman felt fantastic as he flashed the fortunate news of a familiar family face that had forsaken fatal foolishness. Forty-four feet from the farmhouse the first-born found a farmhand fixing a fatling.
Frowning and finding fault, he found father and fumed, "Floozies and foam from frittered family funds and you fix a feast following the fugitive's folderol?" The first-born's fury flashed, but fussing was futile. The frugal first-born felt it was fitting to feel "favored" for his faithfulness and fidelity to family, father, and farm. In foolhardy fashion, he faulted the father for failing to furnish a fatling and feast for his friends. His folly was not in feeling fit for feast and fatling for friends; rather his flaw was in his feeling about the fairness of the festival for the found fugitive.
His fundamental fallacy was a fixation on favoritism, not forgiveness. Any focus on feeling "favored" will fester and friction will force the faded facade to fall. Frankly, the father felt the frigid first-born's frugality of forgiveness was formidable and frightful. But the father's former faithful fortitude and fearless forbearance to forgive both fugitive and first-born flourishes.
The farsighted father figured, "Such fidelity is fine, but what forbids fervent festivity for the fugitive that is found? Unfurl the flags and finery, let fun and frolic freely flow. Former failure is forgotten, folly is forsaken. Forgiveness forms the foundation for future fortune."
Four facets of the father's fathomless fondness for faltering fugitives are:
1) Forgiveness
2) Forever faithful friendship
3) Fadeless love, and
4) A facility for forgetting flaws
Over the years I have collected several Irish Blessings on my hard drive. I like to use them both in poetry studies and Irish cultural studies. The above blessing is perhaps the most famous.
Full of thoughtful goodwill, Irish Blessings are a lovely way to practice poetry in a new way--with wishing the things you think nicest and best on others.
May there always be work for your hands to do.
May your purse always hold a coin or two.
May the sun always shine on your windowpane.
May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain.
May the hand of a friend always be near you.
May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.
May you be blessed with the strength of heaven
The light of the sun and the radiance of the moon
The splendor of the fire
The speed of lightning
The swiftness of wind
The depth of the sea
The stability of earth
And the firmness of rock
In addition to trying your hands at "regular" Irish Blessing poetry, you can also put twists on the topics. For example, this time of year is the beginning of baseball season and so my house is bustling with anticipation for that. Therefore, one year we wrote Irish Blessing-type poetry on the subject of baseball--blessings and best wishes for the game.
For the first game of the season I wrote a silly little ditty of this type to go with some treats and handed them out on the bus.
My kids wrote some really great Baseball Irish Blessings, and I would share them with you if I could currently locate them, but I can't. The point is, though, you should give this poetry form a try.
I recently challenged some students to write more poetry (see last page), beginning with a "Roses are red..." format just to get started. I loved what two of Pickles' daily strips did with it this week. (And thanks to my 14yo for pointing it out to me!)
Has mayonnaise made the world a better place? It's sure made my world better!
Today's Valentine Devotional was on GOD'S LOVE REJOICES, Zephaniah 3:17.
We began with the hymn "There is Sunshine in My Soul Today." This is such a happy, happy hymn that really conveys rejoicing. Not only does God rejoice in His love for us, but with so much light and love we can't help but rejoice ourselves. In Our Latter-Day Hymns the author writes, "This hymn is simply an expression of the happiness that comes to a person who accepts and follows the teachings of Jesus Christ. Such expressions benefit us all; when we rejoice in the happiness that righteousness brings, we lift our own morale and encourage one another's good efforts.... Since the joy of discipleship is difficult to express in words, the author of the text sought to make this joy more vivid through comparisons. She likened it to things that naturally suggest pleasure and contentment: sunshine, 'glorious and bright'; music, 'a carol to my king'; and springtime, with birds and flowers." (POETRY!)
I was already planning to read a particular story about this song that touchingly talks about the second verse and, interestingly, one of my sons kept asking about the second verse regarding Jesus hearing songs we cannot sing. It didn't make sense to him. So it was a perfect segue to our reading "Jesus, Listening, Can Hear.
To then equate God's love with how we should love, we returned to a couple of scriptures we read last week with some new examples. We talked about how not every person has sunshine in his soul and it is up to those of us who do--who know of God's love for us and rejoicing over us--to spread that sunshine and love.
Sometimes it takes courage to do that. We read "Talking to Lenny" from the March 2014 New Era and revisited 1 John 4:18.
Then we read a new Valentine book purchase that I immediately fell in love with, Somebody Loves You, Mr. Hatch by Eileen Spinelli. This book perfectly, in both word and illustration, shows the difference feeling loved makes in a person's life and the joy that is felt and shared.
We revisited Doctrine & Covenants 18:10-16 and talked about the joy that comes from sharing the gospel, because all missionary work should be motivated by love. Missionary work begins with kindness and service and genuine love for our fellowman.
A rejoicing kind of love also cheers others on and congratulates and is genuinely pleased with the triumphs in others' lives.
Now, after doing all this, one of my sons was bothered and at this point he asked, "How can love rejoice?" That just didn't make sense to him, especially if we're always saying that love is a verb. I'd been saying that light is a manifestation of love, that God gives us light and direction (we even mentioned Hebrews 12:6 and chastening) plus all our blessings because He loves us and that love makes Him and us happy; but from a grammatical perspective a verb follows a noun, not a verb. So I went back to the first concept of God is love. Love is a noun in this sense, God being the embodiment of it, and because His work and His glory is to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man, He rejoices in that work. When you really think about it, everything comes down to love. God IS love thus God DOES love as a result. That satisfied my son.
We ended with a writing/drawing activity. I had found some wonderful Mary Engelbreit notecards a while back (okay, I collect them!) and had been saving them for the perfect time, which all of a sudden was today. Inside they were supposed to draw and write scriptures and thoughts and images that meant something to them from our lesson today. The cards had a quote from Martin Luther King, Jr. which was perfect for today's devotional. It's hard to read it on the image below, so here it is:
"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."
I like to start my kids out with some reflective but creative writing at this time of year, the annual stepping through the gate from one year to another. Here are some of the things we've done through the years.
Since the year that just ended was 2014, the writing assignment would be "Fourteen Things I Learned in 2014." We started this several years ago and it gets harder every year as the numbers go up, even though everyone learned way more things than they're required to list. I love reading my children's lists. There is everything from "Silk comes from silkworms" to "Roman gods and goddesses" to "It's hard to beat my dad at any game" to "The times table" to "Trampolines can fly" to "The earth curves every eight miles" to "How to throw a knuckleball."
One year we turned this idea into an art project. Here is what one of the kids did.
We've also made lists like "Twelve things I Want to Learn in 2012." I loved that my then 7-year-old listed things like "How to pack my own suitcase," "How to put my own earrings in," and "How to sweep." It was a good litmus of what mattered to her.
Another writing assignment we've done is to break the year into two lists: "The Top 20 Things I Want to Do This Year" and "The Bottom 15 Things I Do Not Want to Do This Year" (for 2015). This is meant to take some thought and be both a goal and a wish list. There should be some serious and specific goals, like "Get my Eagle," but also hopes for spending time, like "Go swimming more." The "not to do" lists are usually good for some laughs. I've seen anything from "Don't lose to ______" (meaning don't lose a baseball game to a specific team) to "Don't get married" (from a 12 year old!) to "Don't play with Barbies" (from a boy) to a list of specific items someone refused to eat.
One of the trickiest New Year's writing assignments was to turn the new year into an acrostic poem. I'll share mine to show you what I mean:
My children read the newspaper every day. Well, they read the comics every day. And the boys always read the Sports page. My daughter has recently started reading more news articles; she shocked me the other day when she came to me and said, "Mom, listen to this--I just don't get it. It says this guy will go to jail instead of prison. Aren't jail and prison the same thing?" Ugh. I kind of wished she'd just stuck with the comics.
As frivolous as some people might think comics are, I regularly find them thought provoking and a good litmus of a person's education. After all, there are many that cannot be understood, let alone considered funny, if a person doesn't have a broad-based education in Reading, 'Riting, and 'Rithmetic.
Today's "Hagar the Horrible" proved to be such a litmus--and a little bit of a validating "Attamom!" As I sat down for breakfast my daughter told me I had to read "Hagar." I did, and she smiled at me and said, "Haiku!" Having just taught her Haiku a couple of months ago, I love that she remembered and made the connection. Yay!
One thing about blogging is that it's hard to blog and live at the same time. So, this post is a month overdue. But maybe it will still inspire.
For National Color Day (October 22) we revisited a Color Unit we've been exploring off and on. (Hopefully that will get posted in its entirety one of these days. <Sigh.> The hard drive that held all the photos crashed and I'm in the process of trying to salvage the pictures.)
We did some exploration with color in poetry with these two fabulous books that I love.
We also read a book that beautifully and poetically describes the colors of people.
We learned about hue in color and I pulled out these super fun boxes of crayons that I've been saving for over a year and colored MindWare pages. (One page would be colored in only red hues, another in only yellow hues, etc.)
We gathered a large variety of leaves and mashed them up in rubbing alcohol.
After putting a piece of coffee filter paper in each bowl and letting them sit all day, we were able to see the pigments pulled out.
This didn't quite deliver the results I was hoping for, but it was still a good experiment. I want to do this again next year with leaves in various stages of change and see if the results are different.
There are so many things that can be done to celebrate and learn about color that I definitely want to mark this day every year.
Because current active volcanoes are on islands and are forming new islands as I type (in Japan, the Canary Islands, Hawaii and even, fleetingly, there was a new island in Pakistan ) it was only natural to follow up volcanoes with a study of islands.
I love Kids Discover magazines and the KD "Islands" was the base of information for this mini unit inside our geology unit. I added the tactile aid of some Hawaiian coral, and used some other activity books from Hawaii to add some Hawaiian culture and language to our studies.
We made large notebook pages from 11"x17"paper, folded in half. On the front we recorded definitions of island words like atoll, archipelago, barrier island, etc. On the backside we recorded associative scriptures that we discussed the meaning of (2 Nephi 10:20-21 and Doctrine & Covenants 1:1-2). The inside was a map and information spread where we noted interesting facts of various islands such as that Indonesia is the country with the most islands at about 17,500, and Greenland is the largest island with 840,000 square miles.
You can't really study geology without geography mixed in, so we continued some map activity by looking at photos of different islands and finding them on world maps. (I have a stockpile of calendars that I collect for the pictures--from the dollar store or cheaply elsewhere when they go on a rock-bottom sale around February--and I pulled out the ones with island photos.)
For Language Arts and additional Social Studies the kids each researched and wrote a report on Iceland.
Each child also read and wrote a short book report on this book:
Then, in what became a highlight for me, we studied three versions of "No Man is an Island" and wrote comparison essays on them.
The first and original use of the phrase came from poet and pastor John Donne (1572-1631). The passage now titled "No Man is an Island" is from MEDITATION XVII from Devotions upon Emergent Occasions. (Phrases from this passage have lived on and inspired such works as Hemingway's For Whom the Bell Tolls. Donne also penned the poem "Death Be Not Proud.")
No Man is an Island
No man is an island entire of itself; every man
is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe
is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as
well as any manner of thy friends or of thine
own were; any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
In 1950, Joan Whitney and Alex Kramer penned a song, "No Man is an Island" which The Letterman performed and added to their repertoire.
No Man is an Island
No man is an island
No man stands alone
Each man's joy is joy to me
Each man's grief is my own
We need one another
So I will defend
Each man as my brother
Each man as my friend
I saw the people gather
I heard the music start
The song that they were singing
Is ringing in my heart
No man is an island
Way out in the blue
We all look to the one above
For our strength to renew
When I help my brother
Then I know that I
Plant the seed of friendship
That will never die
Then, earlier this year, American contemporary Christian music band Tenth Avenue North released their version of "No Man is an Island," a song that moved me from the second I first heard it and has had a very powerful affect on me and my kids.
