Category: School

Posted in School, Takes a Village

The Poetic Soul of the Tween

Posted on by Kelly (and the Buck)

dedicated to Ann Gengarelly, Poetry Teacher Extraordinaire

Having two children, five years apart, enables me to witness the wheel of time in motion.  From my 7 year old’s absolute exuberance for life with, “Hey Mom, there’s MY POETRY teacher!” to my 12 year old’s developmentally aligned after-school moans when poetry day comes around again, “I haaaate poetry!”

But this Saturday I find my pre-teen running to the office for scrap paper to write down a haiku that has popped into his mind-

bottom of the ninth
a high fly ball to left field
the players walk off

Feeling uncertain about whether he’s gotten the syllables right, he digs up the book he received for Christmas entitled, “Baseball Haiku,” only to discover that the authors have used all different forms. Frustrated by this freedoom of expression, he turns to “The Mother Dictionary” (so proclaimed by his sixth grade teacher) and settles for its authoritative definition before scribbling another:

a high fly to left
left fielder shields his eyes
the ball disappears

This sudden poetic urge has interrupted his preparations for a friend’s birthday party so my husband suggests “poetry” as a gift.  Skepticism moves in like clouds across my son’s face and then is transformed into lighted purpose as he dashes off for more paper.

Harry Potter haiku is born along with other reflections of shared moments between friends like, “Walking into walls.”  He laughs at this syllabic inside joke, pleased that we don’t understand its meaning.

This is all hush, hush, of course.  If he knew that I was celebrating his poetic spirit, he would immediately extinguish it.  And yet, I would be remiss if I didn’t (covertly) let his poetry teacher know that her work lives on– even in dubious, scoffing pre-adolescent minds.


Kelly Salasin, 2008

To read more about the extraordinary work of Poetry Teacher, Ann Gengarelly, click here.

Posted in Holidays, Milestone Moments, School, Takes a Village, Wisdom of Youth

in Paul Skye’s Eyes

Posted on by Kelly (and the Buck)

~ Halloween, 2008

Halloween Onlookers, photo: Pam Burke, all rights reserved

This morning our school hosted its annual Halloween “All School Sing.” Teachers, parents and students arrived in costume, and groups of each were invited front and center to be celebrated with song.

The Sports Figures came up for “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” The Super Heroes included my youngest as a stellar Batman, and The Scary Ones included my niece as a truly frightening vampiress.

A masked Candidate “McCain;” photo: Pam Burke, all rights reserved

There were many more categories and songs, but this year featured a brand new group: The Politicians. It was a tiny group, but well covered, including a stupendous Sarah Palin (the Junior High teacher), a masked McCain, and a very authentic–though very young–Obama.

“Obama’s” proud mother Laura was seated beside me in the audience.  Her son Paul Skye beamed in his navy suit and well-combed hair as he approached the front of the room to cheers from the audience of children, “O-ba-ma, O-ba-ma, O-ba-ma!”

Laura leaned in to tell me what Paul Skye said to her on the day he chose his costume, “Not too many other kids at my school can be Obama.” My eyes stung with tears as I realized just how much it means to Paul Skye–to all children of color–and to each of us–that Barack Obama is our candidate for President.

Paul Skye as Candidate “Obama”; photo: Pam Burke, all rights reserved

In his shining eyes, I felt the promise of a new day.

~Kelly Salasin

Posted in Fragile Life, Insight, Milestone Moments, My own childhood, School, Wisdom of Youth

Eternal Spring… Kindergarten Moments

Posted on by Kelly (and the Buck)
open clip art.com

At the end of the first stellar week of spring, I stood at the easel in the kindergarten among a group of prolific artists while a breeze blew in through the greenhouse door.

Across the room, Ellen was swarmed by writers, who were penciling letters to send through our own post office, while the remainder of the children were enraptured in the building corner.

“I’m having a kindergarten moment,”  I whispered to our intern from the college who was painting beside me.

“Well, that makes sense, you’re in the kindergarten,” she teased.

I loved this young woman for the lightness she brought to my days, reminding me of my own college years.

“Yes, but I’m really feeling the kindergarten-ness of it all,” I  said, unable to capture what it meant to be absorbed in the hollow sound of blocks, the smell of tempura paint and warm air, and earnest spirit of first time writers.

Later, during recess, I stood for a long time in the bright sun of the open field before heading down the hill into the coolness of the woods. There I found small pockets of children tucked into their own worlds of tree and rock, mud and stream.

Gaugin, detail, visipix.com

As I approached, they looked up like deer; but then went on with their play as if I was of no relevance.

In one woodland home, a small girl swept the floor with a pine-fashioned broom; and I found myself crossing over into my own childhood.

…There in the dusty field of a Colorado playground, I used the tip of my shoe to draw the outline of a house, in the frontier world of Laura Ingalls Wilder…

It was only a moment, but it was enough to remind me of the magic of childhood. I tread gently through the woods this day, so as not to disturb the children’s reverie, and so that I too might take a drink from their eternal spring.

Kelly Salasin, March 2006