Graduation is over - what next?

Often times when we think of graduation from high school, we think of the young adults whose lives are just beginning.  We think of all the hopes and dreams we have for them and all the hopes and dreams they have for themselves.  We think of new beginnings, new paths, new life... but, for the teacher, graduation marks the end of another year spent investing in the lives of young people.  For me, it is a hard time.  I pour so much of my heart into developing the day-to-day relationships with my students.  The end of the school year is always bittersweet to me, like mourning a death, remembering a lost love, reminiscing past experiences, realizing lost dreams....  I always have to remind myself that this is a cycle, part of life's ebb and flow.

This year held a different experience for me - I participated in a new capacity.  My daughter graduated from high school.  I was afforded the opportunity to present her with her diploma on stage for all to see.  I am finding it difficult expressing my thoughts and emotions as a new parent of a high school graduate.  My daughter will turn 18 in just a few days.  While my role as her mother will never change, my role as her caretaker and guardian will change.  Letting go seems to be one of the hardest things to do.  People give all sort of advice for dealing with your child becoming an adult but the fact is, every situation is different.  Every relationship between a parent and a child is different.  As a parent, we know this time in the lives of our children marks a new start for them.  We know they are embarking on a new journey.  The problem is, we also know this newness, this new journey, often means we play a lesser role in their life.

Assessment time

Reading The Yearling has taken much longer than I anticipated.  We are too close to the end of school to finish the book in class.  My hopes are that some students will take the initiative to finish it over the summer.  There are several kids who have informed me that they have finished the book already.  A couple have mentioned they want to finish.

I found an assessment for the book online and have attempted to use it.  It appears pretty elementary but my students are struggling with it.  They are so used to a specific type of format, anything that strays from the norm seems difficult for them.  I am holding steady - I expect them to "do their best"...

We haven't even made it to chapter 20 yet - that was my goal for the year.  The farthest any class made was chapter 17.  Therefore many have not read about Jody's trip to see Fodder-wing in hopes of getting a name for his fawn.  They don't know that Fodder-wing dies before he gets there - but, named the fawn without even seeing him.  The rest of the story will not unfold before my kids this year - unfortunately.

I went to the "Creek" - I ain't no yearlin' no more....

I went to the Creek.  A fresh, new experience - but also one that dripped with familiarity.  I feel like I have found a lost friend.  I have learned so much about the heart of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings and, add that to my assumptions, I feel a kindred spirit.  I have made the trek to Cross Creek - in search of what, I cannot say... but I found myself separated from the world for a short time as I walked through the farmhouse, the orange groves, and along the beaten paths that opened before me.  I imagine her heart, MKR's, was not unlike mine or most women for that matter - but words... words to describe that, I cannot seem to form them with my mouth or in my mind.  Perhaps I need to ponder more...

Pa gets snake bit, Fodder-wing is sick, and Jody gets a fawn...

My students are not going to finish the book - we are too close to the end of the school year.  It is my hope that they have read enough to provoke their curiosity and, hopefully, may choose to finish over the summer.

My students have embraced the "reader's theater" approach to reading aloud.  Even the most reluctant readers are involved.  Today, I overheard one student updating another student about the parts he missed.  The most wonderful thing is - this student, the one telling the other one, has been a borderline student all year.  He doesn't volunteer to read aloud and turns in work which is mediocre at best.  HE was actually informing the other student, and doing so accurately.  This was a huge success!  I was SO proud!!

We are less than 200 pages into the book - chapters 16-18.  Pa and Jody went hunting for their hogs, whcih have mysteriously disappeared, and Pa was bitten by a rattlesnake.  In order to draw out the poison, a deer was killed for its kidney (I believe it was a kidney). This action resulted in the does baby being parentless - a young fawn.  Interesting side note, the female deer, the doe, is spelled the same way as does (meaning to do something).  The students have struggled with reading this new word in text.

Anyway,  Jody is sent to the Forresters to get Doc Wilson.  Doc comes to help along with Mill-wheel Forrester and Buck Forrester.  Mill-wheel returns home the next day alond with Doc but Buck stays back to help out the Baxters while Pa is sick and recivering from the snake bite.  Jody has gone and retrieved the fawn and claimed him for his pet.  Buck teaches Jody about the responsibilities of surviving in the scrub.  They hunt for meat and stalk wild critters who come in the night and eat their crops.  Buck and Jody go to the "bee-tree" to gather honey, reaping the largest harvest of honey Buck has ever seen.  All of this leads to a bear attack on the Baxter homestead.  The bear is evidently attracted to the the newly acquired honey loot.  Life is getting exciting in the scrub!!

I am anxious to make a trip to Cross Creek tomorrow - to see M. K . Rawlings homesite, the origin of The Yearling...

Blogging is not my strong point...

So, I am a terrible blogger...

Honestly, life gets so crazy busy at the end of the school year - it's hard to do anything with much effort.  I have spent too many days working outside my classroom.  My students and I began reading using the "Reader's Theater" format.  This was new to me (and them) but seems to be something they are enjoying.

I have scheduled my trip to Cross Creek!  I plan on going this Friday... pictures will surely follow!

The whoopin' cranes is dancin'

From Chapter 10 of The Yearling:


He pointed. "The whoopin' cranes is dancin'."

Jody saw the great white birds in the distance. His father's eye, he thought, was like an eagle's. They crouched on all fours and crept forward slowly. Now and then Penny dropped flat on his stomach and Jody dropped behind him. They reached a clump of high saw-grass and Penny motioned for concealment behind it. The birds were so close that it seemed to Jody he might touch them with his long fishing pole. Penny squatted on his haunches and Jody followed. His eyes were wide. He made a count of the whooping cranes. There were sixteen.

The cranes were dancing a cotillion as surely as it was danced at Volusia. Two stood apart, erect and white, making a strange music that was part cry and part singing. The rhythm was irregular, like the dance. The other birds were in a circle. In the heart of the circle, several moved counter-clock-wise. The musicians made their music. The dancers raised their wings and lifted their feet, first one and then the other. They sank their heads deep in their snowy breasts, lifted them and sank them again. They moved soundlessly, part awkwardness, part grace. The dance was solemn. Wings fluttered, rising and falling like out-stretched arms. The outer circle shuffled around and around. The group in the center attained a slow frenzy.

Suddenly all motion ceased. Jody thought the dance was over, or that the intruders had been discovered. Then the two musicians joined the circle. Two others took their places. There was a pause. The dance was resumed. The birds were reflected in the clear marsh water. Sixteen white shadows reflected the motions. The evening breeze moved across the saw-grass. It bowed and fluttered. The water rippled. The setting sun lay rosy on the white bodies. Magic birds were dancing in a mystic marsh. The grass swayed with them, and the shallow waters, and the earth fluttered under them. The earth was dancing with the cranes, and the low sun, and the wind and sky.

Jody found his own arms lifting and falling with his breath, as the cranes' wings lifted. The sun was sinking into the saw-grass. The marsh was golden. The whooping cranes were washed with gold. The far hammocks were black. Darkness came to the lily pads, and the water blackened. The cranes were whiter than any clouds, or any white bloom of oleander or of lily. Without warning, they took flight. Whether the hour-long dance was, simply, done, or whether the long nose of an alligator had lifted above the water to alarm them, Jody could not tell, but they were gone. They made a great circle against the sunset, whooping their strange rusty cry that sounded only in their flight. Then they flew in a long line into the west, and vanished.

Penny and Jody straightened and stood up. They were cramped from the long crouching. Dusk lay over the saw-grass, so that the ponds were scarcely visible. The world was shadow, melting into shadow. They turned to the north. Jody found his bass. They cut to the east, to leave the marsh behind them, then north again. The trail was dim in the growing darkness. It joined the scrub road and they turned once more east, continuing now in a certainty, for the dense growth of the scrub bordered the road like walls. The scrub was black and the road was a dark gray strip of carpet, sandy and soundless. Small creatures darted across in front of them and scurried in the bushes. In the distance, a panther screamed. Bull-bats shot low over their heads. They walked in silence.

What a beautiful experience!  Like Jody, I found myself wanting to lift my arms in the dance, I wanted to sway back and forth, up and down, to the song of the cranes.  I wanted to lay back and soak in every speck of the experience.  I walked away from this chapter in silence too - seeing only the majestic birds dancing before an audience of one - dancing before their maker.  What a beautiful experience!

Blogging is not for babies...

Well, so far I have not proven to be a faithful blogger.  Life is busy.

I have spent the past couple days working on revising the curriculum for the next school year.  This is my first opportunity to be involved with that, and it has not been an easy task given the district expectations.  This has caused me to be out of the classroom for two days in a row.  So, while I was away, my students should have read chapters 7, 8, and 9 of The Yearling.  I know, I haven't blogged since chapter 3 ended - that will have to wait for tomorrow... my mind is tired for today.

I have not given up - I will run this race and keep the blog going until I finish The Yearling with my students and get to make that SO desired visit to Cross Creek, Florida!

P.S.  Yes, I know there is a leg in my picture.  It is my son.

Reflections of the first three chapters...

Well, today is Sunday.  The Yearling stays fresh in my mind, but even more so - the desire to visit Cross Creek for myself.  My plans were to go this past week, unfortunately that did not happen.

The class has read chapters 1-3.  They are gaining interest in Jody, Penny, and Ma Baxter as the plot starts to thicken (in class we call this "conflict" which would be the "rising action" if we were completing a plot diagram).  They get it.  The kids are becoming actively engaged in the reading of the book.  They look forward to the next page and beg to read if there is a lot of dialogue on that page.  They love trying to talk like the Baxter's of 1870 - trying to get those accents down just right.  It is fun.  I find it WAY too easy to slip into that accent, coming from Appalachia myself.  The country-like accent of rural West Virginia is very similar to that of the 1870's Florida scrub as identified in The Yearling.  I get a kick out of it too.

I brought a copy of the book home and loaned it to my mother-in-law.  She is reading along with us - well, by now, she is reading ahead of us.  She is enjoying the book for the first time as well.  Too often I as read I am reminded of my husband and how he must have been as a little boy... I bet he was just like Jody.  He is quite the woodsman and native to Florida - especially the wildest parts of Northeast Florida.

My pre-intern (visiting student from a local college studying to become a teacher) helped me research some recipes for "sour orange biscuits" found in chapter one.  She made some and brought them in to share with me.  It was pretty interesting - seemed more like a cookie than a biscuit.  While researching the topic I learned that "sour orange" is actually a type of orange tree introduced to Florida in the St. Augustine area from Asia.  It thrived in the rural scrub of Florida. My husband and I wonder if our orange tree might be one - it produces oranges but they are sort of bittersweet, full of seeds, and ripen in late winter/early spring.  I have opened myself up to a whole world of orange recipes!!  I cannot wait to start making some for myself.

In the second chapter we learn a little more about Penny Baxter and how he came to live in the Florida scrub.  I searched my portfolio of photos and found this beautiful old oak tree and posted the picture - I imagine this looks like the oaks mentioned by Jody.  Chapter three introduces the first conflict which is hinted about in chapter one - an encounter with Ole Slewfoot!!  It seems the bear has awakened from his winter nap and has trodden onto the Baxter farm - it killed the "brood sow".  Oh, that made Ma Baxter mad!  Jody and his pa, Penny, are preparing to begin the hunt.  This week should be exciting as we take Julia and the other hunting dogs and go hunting in the scrub with Jody and Pa.

Passage from Chapter One

"A spring of delight boiled up within him as irresistibly as the spring of the branch. He lifted his arms and held them straight from his shoulders like a water-turkey's wings. He began to whirl around in his tracks. He whirled faster and faster until his ecstasy was a whirlpool, and when he thought he would explode with it, he became dizzy and closed his eyes and dropped to the ground and lay flat in the broom-sage. The earth whirled under him and with him. He opened his eyes and the blue April sky and the cotton clouds whirled over him. Boy and earth and trees and sky spun together. The whirling stopped, his head cleared and he got to his feet. He was light-headed and giddy, but something in him was relieved, and the April day could be borne again, like any ordinary day."

Ahhh, how many times I have done this same thing, felt this same way.  Even today, sometimes deep inside my soul, I want to lift my arms and whirl around and around and around like the little girl I once was.

I was told that this text was "rich" - it is rich, rich as the richest cheesecake I ever did taste!!  My tongue tingles as I read aloud - I am savoring every word, every thought, every idea.  For my students, it is a little hard to swallow... but we are working on it.  They have not fallen in love with the book yet - they find it "boring" and "uninteresting"... but I know it's comin'... as sure as the dark clouds are followed by rain - it's a comin'!

Chapter One

I am in the middle of Chapter One.  Our school is on an A-day/B-day schedule, so by the time I finish today, I will have read chapter one about seven times!  That's a lot of time to digest...

One interesting thing about chapter one is the food mentioned.  For dinner, they had poke-greens with white bacon, sand buggers (made with potato and onion and "cooter" found crawling the night before), sour orange biscuits and sweet potato pone.

I have been looking for a recipe for sour orange biscuits - I really want to try that.  I asked my husband (who this book SO reminds me of) if he knew what a "pone" is or what a "sand bugger" is.  I mentioned the potato, onion and cooter in the sand bugger - he said, "that be some kind of turtle"... my goodness, how does he know this!  I looked it up and he was right - "cooter" refers to turtle.  I imagine a sand bugger is something like a potato cake or salmon pattie/crab pattie.  Not sure about the pone yet, my students tell me it is something like a pie without a crust.

I am looking forward to digesting a little more today...

The Journey Begins

Recently my students and I began a journey to Cross Creek. Our journey began with my desire to expose my students to classical literature - I could think of no better book than The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (not to mention the fact that there were plenty of copies available for my students to use).  Before even mentioning such a lengthy novel to my students, I began background research.  The only thing I knew about The Yearling is that it was a popular book to Florida natives (of which I am not) and had something to do with Cross Creek, FL... my favorite steakhouse is named after that place.

With the help of a friend and information from a First Coast Scholars symposium - I learned a LOT!

Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings was a Yankee who fell in love with the wild backwoods of Florida in the early 1900's.  I like to imagine she was an author much like me, except she was very successful and productive and I am just a procrastinator.  I learned that writing was a chore and did not come easy for her, nor does it come easy for me.  She did, however, master it!  The Yearling won the Pulitzer Prize in 1939.  This was later followed by Cross Creek which was sort of like an autobiography of her time living in Cross Creek.  Again - I have not fully read either book as of this date!!  I have read excerpts from Cross Creek, particularly Hyacinth Drift, in which she took a boat trip down the St. John's River.  This was, in my opinion, an attempt of Rawlings to renew herself - to find herself again.  I cannot tell you how many times I feel that need for renewal - to find myself again.  I am on a journey - to read The Yearling, to read Cross Creek, and to visit the home of this incredible woman who braved the backwoods of Florida.