tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87965239232108224722024-02-24T12:44:50.061-08:00Shelley Pearsall's "Middle of the Road" BlogMusings from a middle grade author about writing, life, and good books.Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-48094125413503655262023-11-05T05:25:00.001-08:002023-11-05T05:25:33.276-08:00Virtual Author Visits from Our Scottish Barn<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVJ-HG6yNpIcMIUIsXCKFfbQ5zMLm7oLinwHF47dAuTDz6yOaDq82W1uBVOqY7XPNkmZTgMTn__nm0MVKqOyQEZjirMKtu9PfZy-2sGbft246NVQLEsYHJi1O_xEWLocfnF5jfxXND87PfAJhfpcSTIGCotA9VQvra8qjaWb1swxwlPx8b0UD_5yg48XQ/s1123/IMG_20230712_140708.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="843" data-original-width="1123" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVJ-HG6yNpIcMIUIsXCKFfbQ5zMLm7oLinwHF47dAuTDz6yOaDq82W1uBVOqY7XPNkmZTgMTn__nm0MVKqOyQEZjirMKtu9PfZy-2sGbft246NVQLEsYHJi1O_xEWLocfnF5jfxXND87PfAJhfpcSTIGCotA9VQvra8qjaWb1swxwlPx8b0UD_5yg48XQ/w400-h300/IMG_20230712_140708.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">My virtual author visits are in full swing for the 2023-24 school year. It has been fantastic to chat with classes in New York, Ohio, and New Jersey so far. And Mariemont Schools were the FIRST to virtually visit my new hayloft studio in Scotland last week.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">If you look closely at the photo, you can probably spot the little window above the glass archway--that's my hayloft writer's studio. Our new/old house in Scotland is a former barn from the late 1700s. It has been a hayloft, a henhouse, a stable for horses...and now, an author's house. As you can probably tell, the walls are made of stone. (Yes, I'll confess that I like to imagine the space as a castle...) This part of Scotland once had large granite quarries, and many of the buildings are made of granite. In fact, granite from here was shipped all over the world.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Although I'm based in Scotland, never fear...I'm still scheduling virtual visits with US-based schools. Remember that if your school is doing an all-school read of one of my books, you can get a free virtual visit after your school has completed the book. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I also have a brand-new Author Mentorship program for individual classrooms where I'll present a virtual writing workshop, a Q&A session, and then, every student can get personal, written feedback on a piece of writing from me. If your students are reading <i>The Seventh Most Important Thing</i>, I also have a new workshop called "Hampton's Throne Speaks" where we create a character from the artwork itself. A great lesson in personification and brainstorming! </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">You can find out more details about both of these programs on the school visits page of my website: <a href="https://www.shelleypearsall.com/school-visits">Shelley Pearsall School Visits</a></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Thank you for reading my books, whether you are near...or far away. Feel free to reach out through my website if you have any questions. </span></p><p><br /></p>Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-91218674829505252422023-06-29T05:55:00.000-07:002023-06-29T05:55:07.709-07:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnT65OCrpKDZkdSj7HWregiMQrXXYwW03k0W1U55PHXApDFGVwyKZpjHmB_pEFfBJu8IBF2y47thsR4kbv4XitsTajemEcXiudAOreKs4LwkpqNiPvmbWa5jg-H8tk_0qHDdu5v73TpdkO6ydHva8ss3SNz3JGBbxGFh-O_TX-wVBUKs-NkXgndZcDJsg/s4000/IMG_20220506_140621938_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnT65OCrpKDZkdSj7HWregiMQrXXYwW03k0W1U55PHXApDFGVwyKZpjHmB_pEFfBJu8IBF2y47thsR4kbv4XitsTajemEcXiudAOreKs4LwkpqNiPvmbWa5jg-H8tk_0qHDdu5v73TpdkO6ydHva8ss3SNz3JGBbxGFh-O_TX-wVBUKs-NkXgndZcDJsg/s320/IMG_20220506_140621938_HDR.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #800180; font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><b>LOOKING FOR THE MAGIC</b></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">There is no doubt that the last three years have changed all of us. Made us face our own mortality. Made us realize what really matters...and what doesn't. Made us discover new sides of who we are -- while, at the same time, pushing us to the limits of what we thought we could endure. Speaking for myself, the last three years have also made me realize it was time for a change. A big change.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">I'm not unfamiliar with changing my life. I did it quite often in my twenties and thirties. I moved a half-dozen times. Tried out multiple jobs. Went back to school to become a teacher. Quit teaching and sold everything I owned in order to have an uninterrupted year to write a book (which became<i> Trouble Don't Last</i>)...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">But in recent years, it became easier <i>not</i> to change. To stay put. To keep doing what was working. To drive the same roads. To look at the same familiar scenery. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">However, creativity doesn't thrive in the familiar or the routine. Ideas don't sprout from the roadsides you've driven on a thousand times before. It needs adventure, inspiration, interaction, challenge, serendipity, magic...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">And so, earlier this year, my husband Mike and I decided to move to a new place. Well, not just a new place...but a new COUNTRY. A place where we would have to learn everything all over again, except the language. A place where we'd be forced to make new friends and try new things. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">In May, we moved to a renovated stone barn, with eaves full of swallows and hillsides dotted with sheep, in southwest Scotland. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Why Scotland? Although it is a place that has inspired countless artists and writers over the centuries...and given birth to wizards named Harry Potter and fictional islands of treasure...my reasons for landing here were more personal... </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><i>I chose to move to Scotland because this was the place where I found the magic and the words again, the ones I feared the pandemic had erased forever. There was magic in the tiny striped snail living in my crooked doorway. The small and delicate deer that somehow sailed over four foot stone walls into the garden. The mysterious cat who would appear and disappear in an eye-blink. The waterfalls that burbled out of nowhere in the mossy-green woods. For all those reasons and more.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">I hope you'll enjoy this next chapter with me. Stay tuned. (And yes -- I will be making return visits to Ohio, my home state.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-54146498855294832152022-11-29T13:29:00.000-08:002022-11-29T13:29:40.580-08:00<p></p><h2 style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwzCY1CTCzs8Z0FoezkrqQxAPnS4QYLD_KUkItyC_X9ESHeJ6ojjNuf_6s9epcuJ2qLjSGQ3qXnV3cLwYpU7pQ4gRiQDPx11vI98fQd1WP7Ja3ZVYVD128KHTMMHoon0wwhgW6vk_vGKH1w6WunsPYjp9xqlaJ8_WDZeiNcaSUPRuxr9ray2BPY7LE/s4032/IMG_2773.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwzCY1CTCzs8Z0FoezkrqQxAPnS4QYLD_KUkItyC_X9ESHeJ6ojjNuf_6s9epcuJ2qLjSGQ3qXnV3cLwYpU7pQ4gRiQDPx11vI98fQd1WP7Ja3ZVYVD128KHTMMHoon0wwhgW6vk_vGKH1w6WunsPYjp9xqlaJ8_WDZeiNcaSUPRuxr9ray2BPY7LE/w150-h200/IMG_2773.HEIC" width="150" /></a></h2><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: helvetica;"><h3 style="text-align: center;"><b>THE <i>EIGHTH</i> MOST IMPORTANT THING: READERS</b></h3></span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In early November, I traveled virtually to Queens, NY to meet a class of 8th graders at Irwin Altman MS 172 who read my novel, <b>The Seventh Most Important Thing </b>(ALA Notable selection).</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A central theme of the book is the healing power of art and its ability to transform darkness into light, hopelessness into possibility...messages that resonate with many of us these days. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The novel was originally inspired by "Hampton's Throne," a work of art in the collection of the Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington, D.C. The sculpture depicts artist James Hampton's view of a heavenly throne room made of discarded objects wrapped in metallic foil. The story follows what happens when a thirteen year old boy, dealing with anger and grief, is sentenced to work for the artist after injuring him.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Whenever I talk with aspiring writers, I always tell them to <i>write from the heart</i> because if you do that, your readers will respond with gifts from their own hearts...</span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">however, it still amazes me and humbles me each time it happens. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">After reading the novel, the students at MS 172 created their own artwork from discarded objects, just like James Hampton. They made purses from paper scraps. Stars from cardboard. Flower arrangements from newspapers and magazines. In posters and visual displays, they depicted "light" vs. the "darkness" in their own worlds. And after reading about Mr. Hampton's favorite words, they brought to life the sayings and messages that are most meaningful to them. [You can see examples of their work in the photos shared with this post.]</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">However, their thank you notes to me after the virtual visit truly brought home the heart-to-heart power of books and reading. I'll share just a few below:</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: helvetica;">"Your book helped me and so many people find light in even the darkest of times and helped them find gratitude for the small things in life." -- M</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"I could relate to wanting to let go of my own worries and putting them behind me just like Arthur does." -- J</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: helvetica;">"The way Arthur grieved the loss of his father helped me cope with the grief about the loss of my grandfather." -- J</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"I hope in the future I could become someone like Mr. Hampton in creating a masterpiece." - S</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">That's the heart power of stories. And a special thank you to MS 172's awesome teacher, Catherine Guilz-Feldman for making this experience a reality. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The ninth most important thing? <i>Teachers.</i></span></p><div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIo4bKEKLpBgzZ8VXihsf4Q3KfTCVLgd0o9JadPliUP79sVTSCAYyxru-Z6rmytkq_5dA4XgLoiKvIVzVW90ef0V3cXzvzjbuScicVOUh4n0siTh1Nz6b1_cmGO8T-zj6tFH_J07gb_-YcdC20EMSXYxB1AI3p8QBm3mGWGwghE5hKAMGLFo5D15WC/s4032/IMG_2767.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIo4bKEKLpBgzZ8VXihsf4Q3KfTCVLgd0o9JadPliUP79sVTSCAYyxru-Z6rmytkq_5dA4XgLoiKvIVzVW90ef0V3cXzvzjbuScicVOUh4n0siTh1Nz6b1_cmGO8T-zj6tFH_J07gb_-YcdC20EMSXYxB1AI3p8QBm3mGWGwghE5hKAMGLFo5D15WC/w400-h300/IMG_2767.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvaqkbq0a-Y2jp-3iUbWaH00LScyC5u6swwJJrKQBrL3iAs3Sh_fWPE-aU-3dwpC0KDEKJIMotjumQQjXafTFctlFc9UEfleRCbhySWnLeQ7fZqOTblhA6k-P0vy-JSJ-t-BN1vIyORuYrzjx2yc-2l5ACpSQX5PEOgEYMKjvi43HXiZZ0tR_eZ7v9/s4032/IMG_2750.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvaqkbq0a-Y2jp-3iUbWaH00LScyC5u6swwJJrKQBrL3iAs3Sh_fWPE-aU-3dwpC0KDEKJIMotjumQQjXafTFctlFc9UEfleRCbhySWnLeQ7fZqOTblhA6k-P0vy-JSJ-t-BN1vIyORuYrzjx2yc-2l5ACpSQX5PEOgEYMKjvi43HXiZZ0tR_eZ7v9/w400-h300/IMG_2750.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div></div><p></p></div>Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-48504518462095447792022-07-24T10:45:00.000-07:002022-07-24T10:45:15.639-07:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxLSPHe2U7WN_NihyVDYqakf56uWKPCXs96Nry7ipNdYaxyYsNEwZo6jnQ-QX-mS950t8wKNxTXQpXd22IxlM9mZfy7fOq4nZyMSd5PeCTHEh_Gvpaixcz4wHGcL2HkWP2hcUvcLwoF3rph_pU-Pz3RoIvhzQmf7f_TSpi5IeRprzhpsEiA8L7bBrH/s800/m97nhgi3ckraqxrd6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="800" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxLSPHe2U7WN_NihyVDYqakf56uWKPCXs96Nry7ipNdYaxyYsNEwZo6jnQ-QX-mS950t8wKNxTXQpXd22IxlM9mZfy7fOq4nZyMSd5PeCTHEh_Gvpaixcz4wHGcL2HkWP2hcUvcLwoF3rph_pU-Pz3RoIvhzQmf7f_TSpi5IeRprzhpsEiA8L7bBrH/w438-h219/m97nhgi3ckraqxrd6.jpg" width="438" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Writing for the Magic</span></span></div><p></p><p class="yiv3910014255ydpe538378MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">There was a time when I thought winning the prestigious Newbery Medal or having one of my books named a <i>New York Times Bestseller</i> would be the absolute pinnacle of writing achievement. As an aspiring young author, I used to tell myself that even if I never wrote another word, I would be blissfully happy if I could achieve (just!) one of those dreams in my career.</p><p class="yiv3910014255ydpe538378MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">However, over the past twenty years, my thinking has shifted. After the publication of my seventh book in 2020, I came to the realization that there is something better to set my sights on as an author. Something more real and more enduring. </p><p class="yiv3910014255ydpe538378MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">I like to call it: writing for the magic.</p><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">What do I mean by writing for the magic?<b> I mean valuing those moments when your writing causes something unexplainable or rare or coincidental…or yes, <i>magical</i> to happen.</b> </div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Here's a recent example: just a few days ago, I met a young reader named Amira and her family from Senegal who happened to be visiting my hometown of Akron, Ohio. The family reached out to me after I did a virtual author visit in Rome, Italy where Amira attends school. We were all strangers to each other until that very moment...until a book brought us together from around the world. Senegal. Italy. Ohio. <i>That’s book magic. </i> </div><p class="yiv3910014255ydpe538378MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">And I’ll never forget the moment during an author visit in Michigan when 400 middle schoolers suddenly stood up, mid-program, and did a surprise dance routine inspired by my Elvis novel “All Shook Up.” The dance was the brainchild of their school custodian and planned on the spur-of-the-moment. <i>That’s book magic.</i></p><p class="yiv3910014255ydpe538378MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">And I can still recall the spine-tingling moment that happened during the research for my novel “Crooked River” when I suddenly realized that a real historical event and an ancient Ojibway legend matched…exactly. <i>That’s book magic.</i></p><p class="yiv3910014255ydpe538378MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">No matter what you write, my advice is to watch and wait for the magic. It’s always there. Hidden among the words you write. Carried by your readers. It may even fly around the world to find you.</p><div><br /></div>Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-48753843481070829422021-04-26T10:25:00.000-07:002021-04-26T10:25:12.799-07:00Teaching Ideas for Things Seen From Above<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgznSfrSXVY97Jrox_GyP_zJWbpAKLZZRuXzJxzPswTnybSfHDS_jPPVaVDHYLdcc0AmyqHsxLt6Pz236332_RyrovDdkPu_3zAarXrqaHK3gGqgSMzNqbWzSKJQb2b2tgaAsqhAmKaL2E/s2000/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1294" height="896" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgznSfrSXVY97Jrox_GyP_zJWbpAKLZZRuXzJxzPswTnybSfHDS_jPPVaVDHYLdcc0AmyqHsxLt6Pz236332_RyrovDdkPu_3zAarXrqaHK3gGqgSMzNqbWzSKJQb2b2tgaAsqhAmKaL2E/w580-h896/1.jpg" width="580" /></a><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkl-tL4rPcZwFsUVcPc2X4EnNPLQv3s3N1rykrpeRDpIEQ83qDQidzWxkRN9j89CKD_0hpsVe6CT6m6ScEK3RKaG4L4pwyTPM4ziOSlUTKwlUW66XstYoD-VsVWEPu2w9wBJyP8zkkGfM/s2000/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1294" height="899" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkl-tL4rPcZwFsUVcPc2X4EnNPLQv3s3N1rykrpeRDpIEQ83qDQidzWxkRN9j89CKD_0hpsVe6CT6m6ScEK3RKaG4L4pwyTPM4ziOSlUTKwlUW66XstYoD-VsVWEPu2w9wBJyP8zkkGfM/w581-h899/2.jpg" width="581" /></a></div><p></p>Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-61227903558893082572021-03-28T10:30:00.001-07:002021-03-28T10:31:18.082-07:00SURVIVING THE PANDEMIC ONE BOOK AT A TIME<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">True Confessions: I didn't write the title of this blog post. It was the slogan of a group of 4th and 5th grade readers in Traverse City, Michigan. In March, I was the virtual author for their virtual Battle of the Books Grand Traverse competition. An amazing SIXTY teams competed in this year's battle which was anything but typical. Teams read nine novels. They practiced virtually and competed on-screen in a battle that tested their knowledge of all of the novels...and their skills with the mute button! <a href="http://battleofthebooksgt.com/">http://battleofthebooksgt.com/</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Each team had a name -- and trust me, these were NOT ordinary names. How about "Book, Line, and Sinker?" or "Where the Wild Books Are" or "Little Readers in the Big Books." The kids had creative costumes and slogans. And they created the big snow art designs you see below, inspired by my new novel, THINGS SEEN FROM ABOVE which was a battle book.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was an epic experience for me and an epic example of the power of books. When I think about the things that have helped us get through the pandemic -- these are the moments and experiences that come to mind. Enjoy these photos of book joy!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWxi0Zxoqy8LGHTmRyg8oGvPmVubI0cmKu1nW1aQSYa400mHhe2177c_OBYsZucmd64W7vdJiYr2qUlgxp8GNN0q9iy2JOGVIE5ufyS6eHPCwSiX6HzqfTmwtclyebKs3e_Gd9_IrXN0/s937/154273101_455151008962945_4935781836350408233_n+-+Rachel+Leipprandt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="937" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWxi0Zxoqy8LGHTmRyg8oGvPmVubI0cmKu1nW1aQSYa400mHhe2177c_OBYsZucmd64W7vdJiYr2qUlgxp8GNN0q9iy2JOGVIE5ufyS6eHPCwSiX6HzqfTmwtclyebKs3e_Gd9_IrXN0/w256-h320/154273101_455151008962945_4935781836350408233_n+-+Rachel+Leipprandt.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilQUxhLJcGg93IjKBJhldBNwsjzQoXtLaaoKfKdo56Alav347SJ-Y7O2ihJFW3MTUirA_12YnKxjFDtjF1OWpEatL8iEe8ZfnnzUGtHmr_CSIUVZEXkie8JZLarnSiU2K4oediYbgTozQ/s1242/Little+Readers+in+the+Big+Books.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="907" data-original-width="1242" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilQUxhLJcGg93IjKBJhldBNwsjzQoXtLaaoKfKdo56Alav347SJ-Y7O2ihJFW3MTUirA_12YnKxjFDtjF1OWpEatL8iEe8ZfnnzUGtHmr_CSIUVZEXkie8JZLarnSiU2K4oediYbgTozQ/w320-h234/Little+Readers+in+the+Big+Books.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmvGWjlF9Y43J2PAF06aRmh8dbLYDNbnltSx_myrVaUiQ7BchXfFsncgr7UhTzjnHogW2TYhUFYdeV7N093JBxZItnVB-VkcTsmf15y26sJ49RTdV0nEimFTLqLty6J12xoWB9W58mOiQ/s792/thumbnail_Born+to+Read+-+Snow+Tracing+-+Judy+Arnold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="594" data-original-width="792" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmvGWjlF9Y43J2PAF06aRmh8dbLYDNbnltSx_myrVaUiQ7BchXfFsncgr7UhTzjnHogW2TYhUFYdeV7N093JBxZItnVB-VkcTsmf15y26sJ49RTdV0nEimFTLqLty6J12xoWB9W58mOiQ/s320/thumbnail_Born+to+Read+-+Snow+Tracing+-+Judy+Arnold.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-91893145635453187702020-07-28T10:22:00.001-07:002020-07-28T10:22:38.986-07:00<span style="font-size: large;">THE VIRTUAL AUTHOR</span><br />
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Two years ago, it was the hopeful faces online that kept me going. <br />
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When my entire speaking schedule in Spring 2018 was cancelled by my breast cancer diagnosis and treatment, I went virtual instead. A screen became my audience. Skype replaced the cafeteria stage.<br />
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To keep things simple, I donated the virtual visits. Schools knew that if my hair fell out from chemo…or if I had an unexpected doctor’s appointment…or if I just wasn’t up to talking—their visit wouldn’t happen. Everything was “subject to change without notice.” They were okay with that.<br />
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Fortunately, my hair stayed intact, and the virtual visits saved my sanity. They gave me a schedule and a reason to get up every day. Kids wore pink t-shirts. They held up signs of hope and encouragement. They made me believe that life would get better someday—and it did. <br />
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One of the biggest surprises was the realization that I could still reach readers through a screen. With a little practice and creativity, it was possible to keep being the interactive, thoughtful (and slightly random) author/presenter that I am. <br />
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Then came Spring 2020 and the COVID outbreak demolished everything again. I’ll admit that it felt like an awful kind of déjà vu.<br />
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But this time it wasn’t just me sitting at home worrying that I might die from a dread disease – it was the kids too. I spread the word that I would donate virtual visits to any school group anywhere in April and May. <br />
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I’ll never forget those first Zooms and Google Meets. Kids joined from living rooms, unfinished attics, closets, stairwells, and kitchen tables. They appeared with homemade slime, family pets, and screaming siblings. Some kids floated in blue galaxies or tropical forest backgrounds. Others had their family seated around them like a solemn portrait.<br />
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Despite the challenges, these impromptu visits actually worked. (A ton of credit goes to the parents, librarians, and teachers who made them happen.) I was able to chat with kids about books and brainstorm characters with them. Virtual classes “toured” my office. We shared what we were going through and the various ways we were coping. As I’d discovered two years earlier, there is something to be said for being there for each other in tough times. <br />
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And as the school year starts at home again for many kids, I’m determined to keep stretching the virtual learning limits: Can we compose poetry on Zoom? Can we use our closets/attics/kitchens for writing inspiration? Can we create fictional characters from shoes? Can we build stuff onscreen? (Tetrahedron pyramids for All of the Above? Mini-sculptures for The Seventh Most Important Thing?)<br />
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I believe that creativity and joy, even the virtual kind, will keep us going. <br />
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I’m proof of that.<br />
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Teachers, librarians, and parents: If you are interested in finding out more about my 2020-21 virtual programs (some free and some fee-based) for your students, please check them out on my <a href="https://www.shelleypearsall.com/school-visits" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">website </span></a>or reach out to me at shelleyvisits@yahoo.com.<br />
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Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-71741413812973940912020-07-12T11:16:00.000-07:002020-07-12T11:16:35.184-07:00Spiraling Out The Sadness<span style="font-size: large;">SPIRALING OUT THE SADNESS</span><br />
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There is no question that we are living through very tough times right now. COVID-19 has overturned our world. The challenges of uncertainty, isolation, illness, and loss have touched every age group, everywhere. <br />
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What can we do to cope?<br />
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In my latest book THINGS SEEN FROM ABOVE, the main character of Joey Byrd creates giant spirals in the playground dirt as a way to deal with his sadness and isolation—an idea inspired by my own nephew. <br />
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“You think of something sad and you start walking,” Joey Byrd says. “Then you think of more sad things and you walk…and you just keep walking…until the sad things finally go away.” (p. 114).<br />
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It isn’t such a crazy idea. For centuries, spirals and labyrinths have helped to calm the mind. My nephew called it “spiraling out the sadness.” While working on the book last year, I met other kids and adults who used similar strategies to cope, including the amazing sand artist Marc Treanor. Check out his work below. <br />
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Sand labyrinth by Marc Treanor <a href="http://sandcircles.co.uk/">sandcircles.co.uk</a></div>
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The power of art is a theme you’ll find in a lot of my work. In THE SEVENTH MOST IMPORTANT THING, the artist character of James Hampton creates a visionary box made from things that he scavenges on the war-torn island of Guam. He calls it “Death and War turned into something beautiful.” (p.170) In ALL OF THE ABOVE, the teenage characters use art (and math!) to survive.<br />
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Like the characters in my books, I’ve used art and writing to help me cope with my emotions since I was a kid. During COVID-19, I’ve followed Joey Byrd’s advice to “walk until the sadness goes away.” <br />
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So far, I’ve logged more than 300 miles.<br />
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There’s no question that we have a lot of sadness to “spiral out” these days. It is important to let it out. Draw it. Sing it. Write it. Chalk it. Spiral it. Paint it. Dance it. Walk it. Make labyrinths out of clay, stones, sand, and chalk – even yarn. Learn more <a href="https://educationsvoice.wordpress.com/2016/03/26/mindfulness-in-the-classroom-finger-labyrinth-meditation/" target="_blank">here</a>. Fill a playground-- or a beach—or a piece of paper—with your feelings. <br />
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Know that you are not alone. <br />
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<br />Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-59778550435486953432020-04-05T13:27:00.002-07:002020-04-06T08:50:29.668-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Journals: Life Preservers in Scary Times<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ve kept a journal off and on for more than 40 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> My first one, in 1977, had a tiny gold lock and key. I was a sixth grader at the time. </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Back then, it was
my daily log of events—the place where I recorded everything from Browns’ football
scores—to the deadly Ohio blizzard of ’78 which was considered one of the worst in U.S. history (you can read about at the end of this post.).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But it was
also my personal sounding board – the place where I poured out my loneliness,
my frequent illnesses (yes, I was one of those sickly kids) – and the
embarrassing fact that an overnight Girl Scout camp-out scared me so much I cried
myself to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I spoke to
it like a close friend—even apologizing to it for skipped days or dull entries. “Not
very exciting today--sorry,” I’d write.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it
never judged. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could scribble TERRIBLE
DAY! (see below) and it would understand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That little journal with the gold lock and key was my faithful listener and my sounding board as a kid. Now, as we face the COVID-19 crisis in our world today, keeping a journal continues to be a really important source of comfort and calm for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I encourage everyone to give it a try -- no matter what age you are. Your journal doesn’t need to be anything
fancy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Right now, I’m using one of my
stepson’s old middle school notebooks that I dug out of a box for
recycling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had a <i>lot</i> of unused pages. I'm not sure what that says about his work habits…) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There are no
rules for how much to write or how often. Or how neatly. Or how grammatically correct to be. Remember the journal doesn't judge. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Just write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Encourage
kids and teens in your family or classroom to keep their own journals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their reactions to the COVID-19 crisis may be very
different than your own. They may want to stick to the facts. Or ignore them. Or complain about the lack of snacks & decent WiFi in the house--or about you (I did that a lot in my 6th grade journal...). Or they may want to draw and doodle instead. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Drawing in a journal is okay too!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Let your
journal hold you up in this ocean of uncertainty—and let it remind you<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> that someday this will all be in the past, like the long ago Blizzard of '78, and we will be able to look back through the pages to remember how strong we were and what got us through.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-49634249326927883432020-01-09T09:57:00.000-08:002020-01-09T10:00:03.087-08:00<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes, a picture
is worth a thousand words—or sometimes, a book. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">About seven
years ago, the photo you see posted above took my breath away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It provoked so many conflicting emotions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember feeling both joy and heartbreak
the first time I saw it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First, there
was the whimsical and funny face in the playground dirt—and then there was the
lonely little boy in the red jacket lying in the middle of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I happen to
know the boy in the red jacket very well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He is my nephew—a thoughtful, smart, and sensitive kid named Miles.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Seven years
ago when this photo was snapped at recess, he was a fourth grader—and his
loneliness is palpable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except for the older
classmate who took the photo, and a recess aide watching the scene, there is no
one else around. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When I show
this photo to school audiences, I always get an immediate reaction. Depending
on how students relate to the photo, they might call it sad, creative, lonely,
unique, awesome, cool, odd, mysterious, scary, or confusing…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And everyone
wants to know the story behind it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So did
I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And that is
how my new book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Things Seen From Above</i>,
began. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Over time,
it shifted from being a story about my nephew—to a book for all of those lonely
kids on the fringes of our playgrounds, our schools, our classrooms—kids who
have unique and special gifts we don’t always see until (and unless) we change
how we look at them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The photo
also led me to some totally unexpected places: a windswept beach in Wales, a
brick labyrinth in Michigan, the top of Seattle’s Space Needle, Stonehenge, and
more…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The book
took longer than expected to write…as books often do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(My nephew is in high school now!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the story that started with a blurry cellphone
picture snapped on an elementary school playground is finally almost here.
Publication date: February 4. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes, a picture can equal a thousand words…or a
book. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-10248374446492524972019-12-28T12:06:00.000-08:002019-12-28T12:06:14.812-08:00<span style="font-size: large;">2019:Shoes, Stories, and Skypes...oh my! </span><br />
<br />
It was wonderful to be back on the road in schools again in 2019! With my trusty road crew (husband Mike), we toted our writing workshops and presentations to more than 25 schools and libraries in Ohio, Michigan, Kentucky, and New York. Virtual visits connected us with 12 other places across the country. <br />
<br />
Enjoy some favorite photos from the year showing shoe writing joy!, cardboard wisdom, pyramid building, research magic...and more. (And if you are looking for an in-person or virtual visit this May, we still have a few openings left. Contact me through my website <a href="http://www.shelleypearsall.com/">www.shelleypearsall.com</a> for more details.)<br />
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<br />Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-64389619909210824282019-12-09T14:48:00.001-08:002019-12-09T14:57:17.478-08:00In Praise of School Janitors<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It is
probably no secret that I have a special place in my heart for school
janitors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I can name
the first one I ever met: Mr. Boder at Hanna Elementary, where I attended
school as a child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a regal,
soft-spoken man with iron-gray hair and (I seem to recall) a slight English
accent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In another place or time, he
might have been the perfect butler for a queen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Later on,
when I started my first job in education, my aunt (who was a lifelong teacher)
gave me one piece of advice: always make friends with the school custodians.
“Trust me,” she said. “They will matter a heck of a lot more than your
principal.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sure enough,
as I struggled through my first year of teaching fourth grade—stressed and
constantly sick—it was Janitor Steve and his wife who showed up at my apartment
one afternoon with an enormous pot of homemade pasta to keep me alive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">(In fact, Steve
kept all of us going as teachers. He was our daily sounding-board—the keeper of
our rants and our sanity.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As a traveling
author now, I meet janitors far more often than I meet principals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve met janitors who write poetry and ones
who impersonate Elvis. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Janitors have read
my books and hauled our equipment through wind and rain and snow—and done
emergency “clean-ups in aisle 5” during writing workshops (no explanation
needed!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s no
coincidence that janitors appear as characters in three of my seven books:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s Mr. Joe who protects the students and
their project from disaster in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">All of the
Above</i>, mysterious Mr. Ulysses in my upcoming book <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Things Seen From Above</i>, and of course—Mr. Hampton, the former
janitor turned artist in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Seventh Most
Important Thing</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So, this
holiday season, let’s recognize and PRAISE the unsung angels, men and women,
who clean up our schools and keep everything (including us) going each
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Mr. Hampton says about the angels in our
lives: “Some are like peacocks. Others are less flashy. Like city pigeons. It
all depends on the wings.” Thank an angel today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-57781376116731201202019-11-03T11:59:00.000-08:002019-11-03T11:59:04.777-08:00<br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Writing with Your Halloween Candy</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrX1qmDUDN8TkOsmkiNoaGKcE7AsvWqr0Og5vQL1n_cL8zd_AmUSM0JRju49VhWPjLW74pb5ax4SUCb_9CfKeHbXk-UabVV4bfnPWwJ55AoGdobGKXsQEz22LIgO90zKYL-AteWJ0qCg/s1600/IMG_20191103_142747511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1456" data-original-width="1600" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrX1qmDUDN8TkOsmkiNoaGKcE7AsvWqr0Og5vQL1n_cL8zd_AmUSM0JRju49VhWPjLW74pb5ax4SUCb_9CfKeHbXk-UabVV4bfnPWwJ55AoGdobGKXsQEz22LIgO90zKYL-AteWJ0qCg/s320/IMG_20191103_142747511.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Are you more like candy corn or lifesavers?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ask students this question in one of my
writing workshops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It is a way to get kids to think more creatively—more imaginatively—more
divergently—which (if you haven’t met me) is a “soap box” issue of mine. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I talk about it constantly. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It keeps me awake at night. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because I truly believe our students won’t be
able to solve the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">extremely</i>
challenging problems of the future if we don’t work on developing their
creative thinking skills today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">So, if you are a teacher (or just a random person reading this
blog) and you are staring at that large bowl of candy that you weren’t able to hand
out last week because of the inclement weather (okay, gale-force winds and
rain) that blanketed much of the country on Halloween – try this out:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Which candy are you most like?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Least like?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">You can write about it. Talk about it. Turn it into a poem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you teach school, have your students bring
in a piece of candy from their Halloween stash—the candy that most represents/ reflects
them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not their favorite one. Not the
one they’d most like to eat. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The one
that is most like them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have them write
about it, talk about it, turn it into poem…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Here’s mine:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I’m a pack
of lifesavers, mostly sturdy and strong. Except for the hole in the middle of
who I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s where the loved ones I’ve
lost used to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But around those empty
spaces are determined circles of sweetness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And color. And resilience. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s
who I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I go on.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">(You can also choose candy for some of the great characters in
children’s literature: What candy would be Harry Potter? Or Hermione?)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Your turn. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-51235890748126464392019-10-27T16:31:00.001-07:002019-10-27T16:31:42.083-07:00<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">A Circle of Orange:Writing With Incarcerated Youth</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42jcgrUvp0UHPN744BZVPwLpogwp1K3lhjncpjlvZAXvBo5WFWgtYI47LF3NQ2FPunsKR0axflszNVwdByDcNSBH0Zb0Q89y2jb0KGDkOhN5c_TcCn-bUfl1O-AaM_DTkrmXmVo0qgOU/s1600/IMG_20190926_140139495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1522" data-original-width="1600" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42jcgrUvp0UHPN744BZVPwLpogwp1K3lhjncpjlvZAXvBo5WFWgtYI47LF3NQ2FPunsKR0axflszNVwdByDcNSBH0Zb0Q89y2jb0KGDkOhN5c_TcCn-bUfl1O-AaM_DTkrmXmVo0qgOU/s320/IMG_20190926_140139495.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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A circle of anonymous orange shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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At the end of September, I spent two days with the Ohio
teens who wore these shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you asked
me to describe the group to you, I would say that, as a whole, they were bright,
chatty, and creative girls. They seemed like typical teenagers—like the
daughters of your next-door neighbors.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Only they were incarcerated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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The girls who wore these shoes were being held in a juvenile
facility in SW Ohio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most were serving
10-day sentences before their court appearances. I worked with two groups of
boys and two groups of girls. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
average age was fifteen or sixteen years old. Some were younger.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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At times during my visit, it was easy to forget that these
teens were behind bars. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They talked
easily and thoughtfully about favorite books and pets and family members who
meant a lot to them. We had conversations about grief and loss—and what it
means to be an outcast like the character of Arthur Owens in my book, <i>The Seventh Most Important Thing</i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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(Nearly all of these kids considered themselves to be
outcasts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many had suffered the recent
loss of at least one close family member.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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But there was no escape from the ever-present sound of their
incarceration: metal doors slamming and locking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is this sound that always brings you back
to the shocking reality that you are inside a correctional facility for
youth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reality reverberates through
the antiseptic halls. It sets your teeth and your brain on edge. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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The sound was a constant reminder of the fact that these
teens were not innocents—all of them had committed crimes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some serious, some minor. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In one of my groups, there was a boy accused of attempted murder.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In other words, this wasn't the Boy Scouts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It is easy to be overwhelmed by the weight of the lost
potential when you are sitting in front of these lost kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is hard not to question: what went wrong
here? Or how could we, as a society, have kept this from happening in the first place?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can’t help thinking that maybe there has
been some mistake and this shy, soft-spoken child shouldn’t be here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You want to fix things—to erase the page.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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In reality, you can’t. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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That’s the tough lesson of juvie. You can’t fix very much about
these kids’ lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, some will be
scared straight, but others will go back to worlds and circumstances you can’t
imagine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A fair number will end up in juvie again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As a visitor passing through their lives, I knew I didn’t
have much to offer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t change
the circumstances of their lives. All I could give them was a break—a few hours
to be someone else and to set free the creator, the artist, the writer, or the
reader inside of them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Using a box of Goodwill cast-offs, the teens created characters with me. We created characters from shoes that sparkled and lit up and ran the length of basketball courts and
jumped in mud puddles. There were no anonymous orange slip-ons in our imaginary worlds. No forgotten juvie kids. Every person was noticed—every shoe had a
story.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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In between the orange shoes in the blogpost photo, you can
see the shoes that each girl chose to write about. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I can tell you that there was at least one
<i>very</i> gifted writer among this group.) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
like to think that maybe this photo illustrates the potential of these
anonymous teens—the people who they might have been—and still might become.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And maybe it pushes all of us to see a little more.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-47698622878605959222019-09-09T09:31:00.000-07:002019-09-09T09:33:00.377-07:00School Success: Potlucks and Principals<br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As the new
school year gets rolling, I’ve been thinking a lot about education in America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the years, I’ve been inside a wide
variety of schools as an author.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rural, suburban,
public, private, Muslim, Quaker, Catholic, rich, poor, free and
incarcerated—you name it, I’ve probably seen it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
diversity of American education can be head-spinning. But there are a few
things that seem to hold true no matter where I am:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">First – just
like a book…you can’t judge a school by its cover.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been in some truly impressive schools
that were so decrepit on the outside, I half-expected the kids to be wearing
hard hats and hazmat suits inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At
the other end of the spectrum, I’ve seen schools with all the latest technology
and designer furniture and glass atriums…and not much else going for them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Second – I know
this will sound obvious, but principals really do matter more than anything
else in a school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good principals = good
schools. Almost always. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Over the
years, I’ve developed my own totally random list of what makes an excellent
principal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It does not include things like: “achieves the
highest test scores.” It does include things like: knows the name of every
child, smiles at kids and staff (and authors), is willing to sweep up cafeteria
floors or wipe down yucky tables when necessary, knows exactly what is
happening in the school on any given day, is excited about learning and conveys
that excitement, participates in nearly all school events, is someone who motivates
people to be better people, is a leader that everyone (from parents to
custodians) respects and appreciates… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Schools that
are lucky enough to have these excellent principals tend to hold onto them very
tightly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like rare gems. They don’t let
them leave or move or retire easily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know of one principal who still goes on his
school’s eighth grade Washington, D.C. trip as a chaperone every year—although
he “retired” several years ago. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That’s the
kind of dedication I’m talking about. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYy2fJFNX4BE2-tWKpv91P9oM-l45eGvmDCmwnK9G3k2sWV3Wb3VvcposrFmbajsMKc2oHxFJV4TfOaFDO72D0rUNWar5dxTc14JhmVq1GfMOIpfV5fBK7qGtpk2jPJVCC85WgfYFS5Fs/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYy2fJFNX4BE2-tWKpv91P9oM-l45eGvmDCmwnK9G3k2sWV3Wb3VvcposrFmbajsMKc2oHxFJV4TfOaFDO72D0rUNWar5dxTc14JhmVq1GfMOIpfV5fBK7qGtpk2jPJVCC85WgfYFS5Fs/s200/download.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Third—I have
a theory (completely untested) that teaching staffs who cook together, stick
together. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When I’m in
a school where the teachers have pulled together a lunch potluck on a Friday—or
for any special occasion, I’ve noticed that it usually isn’t a one-time
event.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They cook for each other
often.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have favorite recipes and
dishes that they share. They joke around with each other. They seem to
genuinely like hanging out with one another as colleagues and friends. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Here is my
theory: Potlucks = teamwork = school success.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Add in a
dash of excellent leadership (an excellent principal) and you have a successful
school. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And don’t
worry too much if you don’t have a glass atrium.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8796523923210822472.post-67171357749781695252019-08-18T11:43:00.000-07:002019-08-18T11:43:02.684-07:00Being the Lion Tamer: Why I Love Speaking to Middle Schoolers<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3gj3CwcoRzklVfHrVXswrehwEBsK4lMR2DVOGL2jU9WVkLfNj3E2NW3lcG_oK9q1766muVDA72SnDlKleBYXzXZKbzdNXMUjrEDEKV5O0fzAu6eEMy3E1q7fh4rcWVFFcWv7PmBTYg0/s1600/e541b1_14d436458d5747ac896bc332ebec8625_mv2.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="560" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3gj3CwcoRzklVfHrVXswrehwEBsK4lMR2DVOGL2jU9WVkLfNj3E2NW3lcG_oK9q1766muVDA72SnDlKleBYXzXZKbzdNXMUjrEDEKV5O0fzAu6eEMy3E1q7fh4rcWVFFcWv7PmBTYg0/s320/e541b1_14d436458d5747ac896bc332ebec8625_mv2.webp" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Picture an auditorium full of seventh graders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is right after lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The room is literally vibrating with barely-controlled energy and noise.</span><br />
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">As you take the microphone, there
is a brief, breathless moment when everything stops.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">All eyes focus skeptically on you—the short,
brightly-dressed stranger at the front of the room. You are suddenly aware of
the fact that being eaten alive is just as much of a possibility as being an
inspiration. </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">It could go either way.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Although it probably sounds crazy—</span><b style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">this is the moment I love the most as a middle
school speaker.</b><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Facing the sea of unfamiliar faces, I'm instantly transported back to my own adolescence. I attended </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Greenbriar Junior High,</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> a
public school in a working-class suburb of Cleveland, Ohio, where I was just as awkward,
impulsive, angry, sad, tender-hearted, idealistic, and totally freaked-out as
the middle schoolers in front of me.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">And that’s the place that I always start
speaking from.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">I begin with my failed attempts at
being published in middle school because </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">who
hasn’t experienced the sting of rejection? </i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">I read from some of my truly dreadful middle
school poetry because </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">who hasn’t put
their heart and soul on paper (or online) at least once?</i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Then I plunge into the process of
writing for a living. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">I’m unafraid to
say that some days I hate writing, especially when it takes eight or nine
drafts to get something right. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">I talk
about how much money I make—or don’t make.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">And I usually mention my unsuccessful effort to contact Oprah after the
publication of my first book—</span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">because all
of us need to reach for an impossible dream once in a while.</i><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">In other words, I try to keep it
real when I’m speaking to middle schoolers.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">My audience may—or may not—care who I am or what I’ve written.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">What they want to know is this: </span><b style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">What can I tell them about who they are?</b><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Often I’ll get letters from
students after the author visit—or a note slipped into my hand before the school
day ends.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">The letters will say things
like: “Thank you for showing me that it is okay to not fit in and it’s okay to
be different.”</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Or: “I really liked how
you weren’t afraid to laugh with us and talk about your mistakes.”</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Or “thank you for showing me that my writing dreams
are possible.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Occasionally I’ll receive a self-published
novel from a middle schooler during a visit. (Yes, some of them are secretly
writing and publishing their own books!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">For me, that’s the proof that these
middle school gigs matter, even though they can be frustrating for
authors. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Unlike elementary school visits, it
often takes a “village” to pull together an author visit in a middle school.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Lack of PTA funding and staff support, rigid curriculum
requirements, and demanding bell schedules can all be major roadblocks to
bringing in an author for tweens and teens.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">But for schools who make the effort
and time commitment— the experience of meeting an author can be a life-changing
one for older students. It’s why I focus on them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Actually, I’ve only been eaten
alive once in the past seventeen years and that was by an audience of first and
second graders packed into a stifling school gymnasium. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">They were so out-of-control, I had to put down
the microphone and literally walk out of the room. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2CDQCzXv8_XQ9wv2-VUErWuZylcRNtqCeCpGQthbxiUgvMFYmfJUtqino_cKnnmNHwsPHM750VYusxgANJIVJjowPwKI6xc9scnv9U8yO0F-tcMyjwMyHIgKrv4yK6XZUtBv0UDLPlV4/s1600/lfkg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="179" data-original-width="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2CDQCzXv8_XQ9wv2-VUErWuZylcRNtqCeCpGQthbxiUgvMFYmfJUtqino_cKnnmNHwsPHM750VYusxgANJIVJjowPwKI6xc9scnv9U8yO0F-tcMyjwMyHIgKrv4yK6XZUtBv0UDLPlV4/s1600/lfkg.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">I learned an important lion tamer lesson that day—stick to
what you know. </span></div>
<br />Shelley Pearsallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14710735064513579146noreply@blogger.com0