ON PERSISTENCE

 

On Persistence

Readers often ask if I have a pet, so I thought I'd introduce the newest addition to my family...Poppy. She's wearing her festive paper crown from the holidays, just in case you are wondering!

Poppy came from an animal shelter in Scotland. She is seven years old, and she has been through a lot. Her original owner died, and she had a very difficult time bouncing back from that big loss. When we rescued her a year ago, right before the holidays, she was a mess.

Back then, we didn't know anything about caring for a sad and sickly little dog because my husband Mike and I had never owned a dog before. And she didn't know how to love a different owner because she'd never had one before. 

All of us had a LOT to learn.

Poppy peed on our carpets, barked at our friends, barfed on our beds, refused to walk on a lead, and shivered like a terrified leaf even when it wasn't cold. After several weeks, we were at our wit's end. We wanted to give up. 

But if there is one thing I have learned about myself as an author -- it is that I am ridiculously stubborn and persistent. I refuse to give up on a book, even when everything seems to be going wrong, and the task ahead seems impossible. I will spend hours trying to find the right sentence or the right scene. I will do as many as a dozen rewrites. One novel, Jump into the Sky, took me four years to finish.

If I could write books through tough times (pandemics, illness, grief...) and not give up, I could find a way to reach this crazy, sad, frustrating little dog. 

I would not quit...even if it took four years. That's what I told myself.

And slowly, the persistence began to pay off. Little by little, Poppy became less shy and shivery. She began to trust us. We were able to take her on car rides and walks, and she joined us on a few weekend trips. 

Just as book characters reveal themselves, little by little, we discovered new things about Poppy the more time we spent with her. I found out that she loves busy city walks and hopping up apartment steps and playing hide-and-seek with slippers. And just like my book characters -- she sometimes does something that surprises me (like patiently wearing an orange crown for a silly photo.)

So that's Poppy's story! We've just finished our first year together, and we're working on the next chapters.

A Mythical Land

I've been thinking about my grandpa who took up painting when he retired. I keep one of his works of art in my office to remind me that you are never too old to learn something new. And also, because I love looking at the soft, imaginary world he created and imagining his gentle spirit being there -- in a land of mythical snow-capped peaks and impossibly blue rivers. 

Over the summer, I've been taking a few art classes myself -- dabbling in pastels, watercolor, charcoal, and portraiture at a local art gallery tucked above an antiques store in Castle Douglas, Scotland. (I've shared a view I sketched of the main street from the studio window). 

What I like most about doing art is how it creates a spirit of "flow" in my soul. I lose track of time and place and all the worries that constantly cycle through my mind -- and just focus on what I'm making.

I believe that having access to these creative experiences -- the arts -- are critical for all of us as human beings. Creativity helps us process those too-big emotions, make sense of the world around us, connect with each other, share our common humanity -- and sometimes, the arts help us "escape" and relax. 

In two of my books, The Seventh Most Important Thing and Things Seen From Above, art is central to the story and helps to save the main characters in different ways. As James Hampton says in The Seventh Most Important Thing, art is about creating beauty from the broken things...

If you are looking for ways to bring more creativity into your classroom this school year, please feel free to visit my website for ideas, as well as find more information on my books and 2024-2025 virtual programs. www.shelleypearsall.com

Growing Beyond the Book

Is a book a permanent object? Or does it change and grow with each reader?  

Maybe this is a radical idea, but I believe a book is an ever-changing thing. As an author, my job is to plant the first seeds -- that's it. Then I let the story go. As each reader brings their own experiences, emotions, and imagination to the page -- my book and its characters always evolve and change and grow. 

Although it doesn't happen often, sometimes I get the chance to see how the seeds of my stories take root with readers and grow in wonderfully-new and unexpected directions. Earlier this year, the fifth graders in Mrs. Cohn's class at Dunwoody Elementary in Georgia read my novel, The Seventh Most Important Thing and gave me a glimpse into their own impressions.

After finishing the book, they created works of art inside plastic lightbulbs to share their personal connections with the themes of the novel (which is based on a real artist who used lightbulbs to create his own museum masterpiece). 

One student used orange and yellow paper inside his lightbulb to recreate the eternal flame of JFK's memorial which he connected to the book's theme of grief and healing. Another student managed to fit a tiny clock into her lightbulb because "time is the reason why we age and to me that is important." 

Others included water and soil and plants -- the vital building blocks that sustain our lives on this fragile planet we call home. Other readers turned their lightbulbs into airplanes and angels and dreams for the future. The lightbulb pictured above is designed to represent how "ideas can grow into beautiful things" and to "show the beauty of creativity."

Pretty incredible connections and creativity, right? That's what happens when books (and readers) are allowed to grow. 

Thanks to Dunwoody Elementary's fifth graders for sharing your creativity with me!  

Teaching Ideas for Things Seen From Above

 

School Success: Potlucks and Principals

As the new school year gets rolling, I’ve been thinking a lot about education in America.  Over the years, I’ve been inside a wide variety of schools as an author.  Rural, suburban, public, private, Muslim, Quaker, Catholic, rich, poor, free and incarcerated—you name it, I’ve probably seen it. 

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:

First – just like a book…you can’t judge a school by its cover.  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.  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.

Second – I know this will sound obvious, but principals really do matter more than anything else in a school.  Good principals = good schools. Almost always.

Over the years, I’ve developed my own totally random list of what makes an excellent principal.   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…

Schools that are lucky enough to have these excellent principals tend to hold onto them very tightly.  Like rare gems. They don’t let them leave or move or retire easily.   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.     

That’s the kind of dedication I’m talking about.

Third—I have a theory (completely untested) that teaching staffs who cook together, stick together.  

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.  They cook for each other often.  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.

Here is my theory: Potlucks = teamwork = school success.

Add in a dash of excellent leadership (an excellent principal) and you have a successful school.

And don’t worry too much if you don’t have a glass atrium.