My Sunday Sermon

March 13, 2016Uncategorized#LoveTrumpsHate, Edmund Burkepaulabourque

#SOL16 Day 13

Once there was a man.

He wanted to make his country great again.

He built walls to create borders.

He made them pay for it.

He wanted to rid us of others.

He rounded them up and marched them

off the earth.

He “told it like it was”

over and over and over.

He vilified the press and any who questioned him.

He tapped into the rage of a people.

He ignited the fires of hostility.

He whipped the crowds into a frenzy,

crowds of people desperate for a strong leader.

He was very popular.

Until he wasn’t.

I’ve revised this poem many times as each act of hatred, each call to aggression, each digression of humanity seemed to dip beneath what I thought was a new low. I do not wish to become despondent and depressed. I want to TRUMP hatred with love, prejudice with acceptance, anger with understanding, and lies with truth. I want us to examine, “What ARE our values?” I want us to LIVE them, not just in our politics, but in our daily lives.

Now is the time for good men (and women) to do something.

Peace out.

When PD Becomes Crisis Management

March 12, 2016UncategorizedProfessional Developmentpaulabourque

#SOL16 Day 12

Yesterday sign ups opened for a workshop day next week. I love that our district is adopting an EdCamp-ish model of offering voice and choice in our professional development opportunities. I’ll be presenting at one of the sessions, and so I had two others in which to choose my own PD. As I looked down the list of offerings I was struck by how many were not related to academics at all.

Active Shooter
Homelessness
Marijuana/Vaping/E-Cigarettes
Anxiety Disorder
Substance Abuse
Pain Based Behavior

Schools have clearly had to become more than institutions of learning. We’ve had to become caregivers. That is not to say we hadn’t always been to some degree. Most of us are here to teach the child and not just the curriculum, and so we have always looked for ways to support the needs of our learners; whether they were academic, emotional, social, or physical.

Our schools offer food, clothing, counseling, behavioral support, health care clinics, dental cleanings and screenings, vaccinations, homeless liaisons… Teachers are expected to become highly qualified in our area of instruction and ensure that ALL students become highly proficient in achieving the standards. In essence, we are expected to become everything for everyone. And we try! I don’t know how many conversations I have each week with teachers stressing over their struggle to meet the needs of a child (or children) in their classrooms because their needs are greater than we can address.

And so I applaud our school district for recognizing that teachers need support to help these students, and that these students may have nowhere else to turn for that help. I am proud that our teachers are putting the most basic of our students’ needs first and learning about ways to address them. But I am sad that we don’t have more sessions for sharing amazing book titles, implementing genius hour, sharing successful strategies and practices, etc. I am sad that our students need us to focus our energy and professional development on dealing with societal issues that are causing them such trauma and grief. And I am incredibly sad for so many of our students.

I will balance my day by offering a session on Close Writing to help foster greater purpose and passion for our students in writing, and then taking sessions to help me better understand the non-academic needs of my students. I will focus my professional development on supporting the whole learners…the human beings who are counting on me to make a difference in their lives.

Oh, and our high stakes standardized testing starts the next Monday. ‘Nuff said.

From the Pens of Babes

March 11, 2016UncategorizedJackson Wheeles, Samantha Smithpaulabourque

Yesterday a post came across my Facebook wall and Twitter feed that filled me with hope. It reinforced for me the power of the pen- (or the crayon!) It inspired me to work even harder to help our youngest writers find their voice.

It was a piece of writing from a third grader in North Carolina. As part of a class project he penned a letter to Donald Trump saying quite eloquently what so many of us would like to. He laid out his position with regards to the behavior he finds offensive and frightening. He argued for an implementation of the Golden Rule. He appealed to Mr. Trump to “start thinking about the children in this country” and he shared the thoughts, hopes, and fears of many children. He has a voice and found a way for it to be heard. He is a writer!

(And I noticed the tone of last night’s debate considerable more civil…coincidence?)

This reminds me of another famous young writer who’s words had an impact in the world. In 1982 Samantha Smith, a 10 year old girl from my state of Maine, wrote a letter to Yuri Andropov, a newly elected leader in the Soviet Union. In it she said:

Dear Mr. Andropov,

My name is Samantha Smith. I am ten years old. Congratulations on your new job. I have been worrying about Russia and the United States getting into a nuclear war. Are you going to vote to have a war or not? If you aren’t please tell me how you are going to help to not have a war. This question you do not have to answer, but I would like to know why you want to conquer the world or at least our country. God made the world for us to live together in peace and not to fight.

Sincerely, Samantha Smith

Andropov not only responded to her letter, but invited her to Russia. She became one of America’s youngest goodwill ambassadors and influenced the conversation moving forward in Russian relations.

Sure these letters have garnered national attention, but we cannot underestimate the capacity for our students’ writing to influence others. When we help them find their voice and share their ideas through their writing we are empowering them in ways we may not yet fathom or ever know.

Out of the mouths of babes (…and onto the paper)!

Predawn Awakenings

March 10, 2016Uncategorizedinspirationpaulabourque

#SOL16 Day 10

Darkness.

My muse kisses my brow.

I roll over and reach for my pen,

holding the thinking in my head until I secure my notebook.

Becoming proficient with blind scrawling.

Ideas flow from my sleepy brain to the beckoning page.

There it awaits a more lucid reader at dawn.

I retreat into my downy burrow

Hopes of REM diminishing

This dormancy far too brief

when inspiration calls again.

Several years ago, as I began cultivating my ideas for CLOSE WRITING, I found my sleep pattern forever transformed. Almost every night, I dream lessons and conversations with learners and awake in the predawn hours with ideas bursting from my head. I have notebooks and scrap papers littering my bedside -inspiration overload. If I can release them to paper, I am often able to catch a few more zzzz’s, but more often than not, I’ve only opened the floodgates!

Spring Symphony Warm Up

March 9, 2016Uncategorizedbirdsong, Springpaulabourque

#SOL16 Day 9

If you’ve ever been been to a concert and heard the orchestra warming up, you know you get little hints of what’s to come, but it hasn’t yet coalesced into a symphony. That’s what I think of during the late winter mornings when the birds begin tuning their instruments. This morning, I walked out to my car and was struck by the ever-growing variety of song. Even those tough Maine birds that winter over were breaking their silence with vocal warm ups.

It hasn’t been a hard winter by any stretch of the imagination. El Niño has dampened the spirits of many of us snow lovers, and it has planted some inklings of spring fever early for an area of the country that is slow to cede winter.

For those who share my passion for ornithological acoustics, I offer my favorite feathered friend refrains…my special spring sound slices that sing me into my day.

Tufted Titmouse

Black-Capped Chickadee

White-Throated Sparrow

House Sparrow

As spring unfolds, more and more birds will call Maine home and add their voices to the chorus. But I am always most grateful to these early serenaders for bringing me happiness and hope that the crunchy brown around me will be greening and growing once again. I am also SO grateful for this Slice of Life Challenge that has encouraged me to slow down, tune in, and notice what is going on around to me. Focusing on these small “slices” elevates my awareness of what is important enough in my life that I want to capture and preserve in words or images. I can only imagine the same experiences for my fellow slicers!

Books Are So Patient

March 8, 2016UncategorizedMr Schu, reading life, TBRpaulabourque

#SOL16 Day 8

I know many of you are like me. You have TBR (to be read) piles all about your house. I have one on my bed stand, one in my ‘office’, and another in the living room. They never seem to shrink because for each that I read and remove, another one or two seem to layer the pile.

Sometimes I look at them almost apologetically. “Sorry, I was going to read you next, but then this ARC came in the mail.” “I know you were on top, but Mr. Schu was just raving about this one.” They just stoically sit there. No hint of animosity or jealousy. Just one more reason why books make such great friends.

A few weeks ago Keisha*, a 5th grader who loves talking about books with me asked, “Mrs. Bourque, what book should I read next? What book do you really like?” Now there are nearly a bajillion books I’ve read that I really like, but I immediately thought of my self at her age. “You know what book I read over and over when I was in elementary school? I loved this book so much.” I grabbed a copy of Island of the Blue Dolphins. “This was based on a true story and I just thought she was such a brave girl. I probably read it six times. I wonder what you would think of it.” Keisha hugged the book and headed back to her seat.

Last week Keisha came up to me with the book in her hands. “I didn’t get a chance to read it. I had this other book I was reading. Sorry.” I know she felt like she had disappointed me. “You don’t need to be sorry. That book isn’t going anywhere. Anytime you feel like reading it, it’ll be waiting for you. Books are so patient.”

She giggled. “Oh yeah? Cool!”

And another reading life keeps blooming.

Politics is Not a Dirty Word

March 7, 2016UncategorizedCaucus, Politicspaulabourque

#SOL16 Day 7

Yesterday I attended a caucus in my small town in Maine. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Lately the political process has descended into this venomous proposition in which contempt and open hostility for “others” is condoned and even celebrated. Agreeing to disagree seems to be a flaw that is no longer acceptable. So when I walked in and saw various friends and acquaintances with Bernie buttons and Hillary stickers I wondered how our community politics would unfold.

We listened to candidates speak. Each getting enthusiastic applause. We attended to party business in selecting our county officers and delegates. And then came the moment when we needed to stand up and walk to our corners of the room to physically announce our choice for presidential candidate. As I saw friends stand, I tried to guess which direction they would move. I knew demographically the younger ones would “Feel the Bern” and the older ones would “Stand With Hillary”.

I made my move and gazed about the room. It was quiet and folks seemed to be making the same mental assessments as I was. Each “side” had a representative who came to speak for their candidate. To my great joy, there was no mudslinging. No name calling. No belittling. There was passion for their candidate and a warm embrace for their ‘opposition’. There was applause from all sides of the room after each speech. There was agreement that we were blessed with two wonderful candidates and did not have to “choose between the lesser of evils”.

I thought about David Brook’s NYTs editorial The Governing Cancer of Our Time in which he said, “Politics is an activity in which you recognize the simultaneous existence of different groups, interests and opinions. You try to find some way to balance or reconcile or compromise those interests, or at least a majority of them. You follow a set of rules, enshrined in a constitution or in custom, to help you reach these compromises in a way everybody considers legitimate.”

That is exactly what I was seeing before my eyes. This was politics as it should be. Those on the other side of the room were not my rivals. They were not wrong. I was not right. The heads were counted and a ‘winner’ emerged. There was subtle applause and then we all mingled again. Hugs. Handshakes. “See you tomorrow”s.

As David Brooks went on to say, “Politics is in retreat and authoritarianism is on the rise worldwide. The answer to Trump is politics. It’s acknowledging other people exist. It’s taking pleasure in that difference and hammering out workable arrangements.” I no longer think of politics as a dirty word. It’s messy and sometimes disappointing, but it doesn’t have to be vitriolic and hateful. If more people, other than the angry and frustrated, were a part of our politics we would more easily hammer out workable arrangements and bring civility back to the process. I didn’t really want to caucus today. I just wanted to vote. But if I had stepped into that booth by myself, voted, and left I would not have witnessed what is good in politics. What it can be. What we need it to be.

Oh, in case you were wondering…

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Morning Devotions at My Caffeine Temple

March 6, 2016Uncategorized#SOL16paulabourque

#SOL16 Day 6

Stumble steps, avoiding pets

Paws and noses tripping threats.

Shuffle feet across the floor,

Cranium kissed in headline lore

Mornin’..love you.

Love you, too.

Make my way to caffeine brew.

Grab my mug, pour the joe,

Cup is filling, way too slow.

While I wait my eyes alight,

Images splashed with morning light

Memories, precious history,

Ripened fruit from family tree.

Countenances cede me joy

My precious girl and baby boy.

Each morn I gaze at photos here,

So memories never disappear.

Frozen, static always young.

A visual reveille that’s sung.

I sip, pause and stare awhile,

Embrace the day with grateful smile.

Books CAN Change Lives

March 5, 2016UncategorizedPat Conroy, Reading Livespaulabourque

#SOL16 Day 5

I’m driving this Saturday morning to a National Board workshop, sipping my coffee and listening to NPR when my ears perk up… “Pat Conroy, adopted son of the South Carolina low country has died. The novelist who wrote nearly a dozen books, including “The Prince Of Tides” and “The Great Santini,” was 70. Just last month, he announced he had pancreatic cancer.”

Oh, crap. No more words will ever flow from that gifted man’s pen. The cathartic characters he created in the Prince of Tides and the Great Santini still frequent my thoughts from time to time. The courage it must have taken to write stories so close to home is inspiring. What a loss to the world. I whisper a little prayer.

1119_pat-conroy

They play an interview from 2010. He reflects on his memoir My Reading Life. He remembers his mother, Peg, who told him, “books could change lives – they were like friends that could be counted on in a childhood spent moving from Marine base to Marine base”.

I think about how Conroy’s “friends” had such a profound influence on his life. And it was a rough life. His father was a tough marine and a brutal man. As Conroy revealed, “Dad would not hit you if he saw you reading. He thought you were studying. And it was the one time – you know, one place you could go to get away from his fists. And it worked every time.”

I thought about my students with incredibly difficult lives. I know for a fact, many find solace in the books they read. They find “friends”. This is one of the many realizations that drives my passion for creating literate lives for every one of our students. Books CAN change lives. They changed Pat Conroy’s. His went on to change others’.

I scroll through mental images of several students that I’d like to talk to more this week. I feel compelled to check in on their reading lives. I know for some, this will be the only window into their personal lives they allow any light to shine through. I want them to find those books that speak to them, inspire them, change them.

I know we can do this. One reader, one book at a time.

Who Did the Learning Today?

March 4, 2016Uncategorized#SOL16paulabourque

#SOL16 Day 4

I stood in front of the 4th grade classroom yesterday afternoon, discussing historical fiction. I’ve been collaborating with their teacher and she told me many students were struggling with writing their own historical fiction stories. I used a graphic organizer to plan and rehearse my own story-circa 1982. I talked about what life was like the year I graduated from high school and the kids were stunned to hear we had one lonely computer in my school with a green display and no internet! They laughed when I talked about ‘big hair’ and how girls would tease it to get that volume. I advised them, “If you don’t know much about the period of history your story is set in, it’s going to be more difficult. Try to pick a time in history where you could picture yourself and life around you.”

The children were sharing their time periods, most had chosen historically significant times that they had previously studied.It was then that I noticed several of our ELL students weren’t sharing. I realized when I said history, it was universally American History that the other students were considering. These children were from Iraq, they barely knew anything about our language, how could I expect them to know our history? I asked their teacher if I could pull them over to a table together.

I began, “Can you think of a time in history that you know quite a bit about?”

Azfar* smiled, “1982?”

I laughed, “Oh yeah? What do you know about 1982?”

“Big hair?”

I should’ve seen that coming! I started again. “Historical fiction are stories. They tell stories about a person in a different time. We get to see what life was like for them at that time. We see how that person has a problem that they have to solve. (We’d been focusing on this conflict/resolution idea in narratives) It can be a long time ago, but maybe it can be a short time ago. Maybe a story about a boy living in Iraq. Maybe a story about a girl moving to America. Can you write a story like that?”

“Or move to Turkey?” Ameena* asked.

“Yes! You can tell about the problem your character solved when they moved to Turkey.”

Azfar offered, “My friend move Jordan. It bad. Bad words. Bad fight.”

I tried to clarify, “He moved to Jordan or away from Jordan?”

“He move to Jordan. Not good. He America now. He name Musa.”

It’s still not clear to me, but Mohamed has a story he wants to tell. I know all of these children have stories they want to be able to tell. I can’t imagine having ideas, and stories in my head with no way to communicate them.

“Can you write a story about a boy like Musa? Can you tell us some problems that boy can have?”

“Problem? Eh, like what problem?”

I try to think of universal problems all children have and not just refugees. “Sometimes when we are new to a place, we do not have any friends yet. That can be a problem. Can you tell us how Musa makes new friends?”

Azfar nods, “Ahhh. Yes. I can do this.”

I notice Ayusha* watching this exchange. She has a big smile on her face. She reaches over and hugs me. “I will be your friend.”

I melt. Class dismissed.

*I did not use the students’ real names to protect their anonymity.