My Sunday morning started with these words from Walt Whitman:

GOING SOMEWHERE

My science-friend, my noblest woman-friend,
(Now buried in an English grave–and this a memory-leaf for her dear sake,)
Ended our talk–”The sum, concluding all we know of old or modern
learning, intuitions deep,
“Of all Geologies–Histories–of all Astronomy–of Evolution,
Metaphysics all,
“Is, that we all are onward, onward, speeding slowly, surely bettering,
“Life, life an endless march, an endless army, (no halt, but it is
duly over,)
“The world, the race, the soul–in space and time the universes,
“All bound as is befitting each–all surely going somewhere.”

…long, organic, rhythmic free verse.  Ahhh…

Back in September I wrote a post about an interesting little web service called DailyLit.  I had just signed up and received the first of 423 installments of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass via email.  I spoke of how you could integrate small chunks of text like this into your school’s literacy program.  Given that from age 14 to 18, and from AP Physics to PE, we read for different reasons and in different ways.  For these reasons, I saw this service as an interesting and free way to add rich sources of text for classroom analysis, or even simply for volume or pleasure.  As of today, it is the “pleasure principle” that made me check back in on this web entity.

Fast-forward to today’s email (you can also choose RSS) which contained installments 368 and 369 from Leaves of Grass.  Grounding.  Things like this can help to keep my head in check.  I love it when the wisdom of brilliant and creative people from ages gone by is held up to the present for inspection, reflection-  and in this case: inspiration.  And by the way…  which “Evolution” is he speaking of here?  His capital “E” puts it on level with Geologies, Histories, Astronomy, and Metaphysics.  Thus, in my mind, he speaks of Darwin’s fresh theory of biological evolution.

So this led me to a quick inquiry.  What year again was Leaves of Grass first published?  A quick check returns 1855.  Now, I remembered reading about how Whitman constantly revised his works again and again.  However, one only need know that the publication of Darwin’s On the Origin of Species was in 1859, to want to question this text a bit more.  So apparently, between the first edition of Leaves in 1855, and the final in 1882, he changed not only verse and style…  but content.  I now have something to research for myself.  Find the text from 1855.  Do a comparison.  I wonder what I will find.  I wonder if any of you feel like helping me out in this endeavor. (?)  Did I ever notice this date interplay prior to blogging about this poem today?  No.  No I didn’t.

Chalk up another win for the synthesis found within the act of blogging.  I love it.  I love what it does to my brain.

As I sat down to tap out the post this evening, I realized something really cool.  What began as a rather humble re-blogging of a famous work of art from the 1800’s, has led to me evaluating text, inferring intent, and questioning context.  Hmmm…  I wonder if these are behaviors we seek to foster in our students.  I wonder if blogging can help deliver this.  In reality, this wonder contains less doubt and more certainty than it did less than a year ago for me.

So I leave you with installment #369 for your evening of March 22nd, 2009.  God, I love these words:

SMALL THE THEME OF MY CHANT

Small the theme of my Chant, yet the greatest–namely, One’s-Self–
a simple, separate person. That, for the use of the New World, I sing.
Man’s physiology complete, from top to toe, I sing. Not physiognomy alone,
nor brain alone, is worthy for the Muse;–I say the Form complete
is worthier far. The Female equally with the Male, I sing.
Nor cease at the theme of One’s-Self. I speak the word of the
modern, the word En-Masse.
My Days I sing, and the Lands–with interstice I knew of hapless War.
(O friend, whoe’er you are, at last arriving hither to commence, I
feel through every leaf the pressure of your hand, which I return.
And thus upon our journey, footing the road, and more than once, and
link’d together let us go.)

*Artwork thanks

My last post highlighted a train wreck of a children’s book.  Readers of the post typically had one of three responses:

1)  This is sick, but hilarious. It was easy to get a kick out of something as blatantly incorrect as this book.  In fact, my current marine biology students enjoyed it quite a bit.  Those riled enough suggested file #13.

2)  Don’t sweat it. A minority remarked even though the book has glaring errors, none are worth getting too fired up about.  Kids are resilient, and misconceptions learned that young are easily unlearned.

3)  What an opportunity! Several also remarked that this book is a valuable potential lesson to hold on to.  Keeping the book as a media literacy lesson is the best answer.

What can I do?

Regardless of your take on The Septapus, I have felt the need for a review of a really super piece of children’s literature since publishing that post.  I guess I just feel the need for some positivity to balance out the force.  In reality, I am not a children’s lit expert.  I’m as much of an early childhood expert as a terribly curious father of two youngsters can possibly be, but certainly no more than that.  I know my limitations.  That said, I think I have one really sweet little piece of art to share with all of you.  This is a book that is not only deeply accurate from a scientific perspective, lyrically engaging, and amazingly illustrated…  but also seems to be a nearly 180 degree parallel of “Numbers” in so many ways.  (Please appreciate the tattered scans here which show the tough love of a toddler’s touch.)

In fact, this was definitely Delaney’s first favorite book.  She still loves to have this one read to her.  I’m not bad, but her mommy reads this one like a champ.  Find a small child.  Any child will do.  No matter how far you have to look, find a kid and buy this book for them:  Over in the Ocean in a Coral Reef. This book was written by Marianne Berkes and illustrated by Jeanette Canyon.  I know little of the history of the creation of this book, but it is a masterpiece.  Not only is it refreshingly accurate, and written in a fun and lyrical way, it is illustrated so beautifully that it makes me want to go buy clay.  Seriously.  Take it from a discerning dad who teaches marine biology- this is a fantastic book to read with a toddler.

Perfection

The book called out to my wife and I from a shelf in the exhibit hall of the NSTA (National Science Teachers Association) national convention in St. Louis just before our babe was born.  The book came in two forms and we bought both on the spot.  One is a thick board book that we figured she could have her way with, and the other is a paperback that contains more information at the end on the creation of the polymer-clay art that adorns each page.

If you do nothing else, do a comparison of the treatment of the octopus on page one of this book, with the “septapus” in question from page seven of the previous review:

When looking at any of the pages here, keep in mind these things…  every illustration:  clay.  Illustrate the riot of color and complexity of a coral reef…  in clay?  Absolutely.  This is a serious work of art in my opinion.  The ocean looks like Vincent’s Starry Night, and the lyrics (which correspond to music in the final pages) are quite fun.  And to think- this book is a “numbers” book as well.  Hard to compare to the previous book.  Over in the Ocean truly builds the counting exercise into the structure of the story in a very organic and engaging way.

In Over in the Ocean, parrotfish “grind,” clownfish “dart,” stingrays “stir,” pufferfish “puff,” dophins “jump,” angelfish “graze,” needlefish “skitter,” grunts “grunt,” and seahorses “flutter.”  The octopus has eight tentacles.  Parrotfish grind coral.  Stingrays stir in sandflats.  Emperor angelfish look exactly like emperor angelfish.  Bluestriped grunts, both mommy and babies look precisely and act exactly like Haemulon sciurus-  just ask my marine biology students.

Connections

Of course before publishing this post, I wanted to ask explicit permission to include a page from the author herself.  In that correspondence, I gained even more insight into the book including her opinion on the Septapus:

“As a former children’s librarian, I can tell you it would never have made it in my library, or my school for that matter (I was also an early childhood educator in NY before moving to Florida).”

Enjoy this book.  Enjoy the proud scientific accuracy.  Enjoy the gorgeous art adorning each page.  But perhaps most importantly, enjoy a book that is an interdisciplinary dive onto a coral reefs for kids.

Snow falls.  My fireplace coats one half of me in cozy radiance.  Across the room, Erin animates a book for my curious babe.  School is still a solid day and a half away.  As I sit here inspired by the art of Vladislav Gerasimov’s studio, I ponder physical space.

I catch myself in full muse about the spaces in which I usually write and how they might influence tone, mood, volume, and mission.  Of course, I am sometimes sitting in my office at 3:00pm pecking keys that reflect the day.  Other times still, I am stuck to a conference hall wall -hugging an outlet- allowing my laptop to drink while I scribble electronically.

Though given my choice, it would look much like today.  The mission-inspired rocker where my butt is planted-  was meant for a nursing mother just two years ago.  Since this chair didn’t seem to inspire her “mission” after all, it has lately become my writing chair.  Her lack of love for this spot has become my pirate’s loot.  Here I sit feet up -gliding in the golden glow of flames- tapping on letters for fun.

The more serious posts in waiting:  our school’s use of the Ning platform, tech strategies for increasing writing fluency, etc…  well, they’ll just have to wait.

Actually, there is a plenty about our artistic stick blogger friend that doesn’t concretely resemble me.  My head isn’t that big, I’m not a big fan of Digg, and far more than letters fill my head.  A conversation with my Communication Arts department the other day revealed a multitude of mental strategies for writing.  Most seemed to rely heavily on a stepped-draft approach.  I thought it interesting that my pal Kelly Lock and I both tend to compose in mental spaces before encoding onto the page.  You can thus imagine the stress we felt while fabricating those incremental “rough draft” assignments in high school.  I bet the little fella above would create his “outline” assignment after-the-fact as well.

Come to think of it, there might be many similarities between he and I.  He does have a slender build.  He does lean intently into his superthin laptop.  He does love dim lighting, and his silly feet seem to be less than planted on terra firma at times.  Hey, you can’t always be practical, right?

So where do you write?  Not when you have to…  but when you can.  What is there with you?  Where does it take place when you get to choose?  Tell it.  Draw it.  Photograph it.  Blog it.  Come back and share it.  You know you want to.

ps- If you care that your screen is beautiful and creative, then check out the art at Vlad Studio.  With the Holiday season fast approaching, I think Christmas Volcano is my current fave.  Wow.  No one on Earth would care enough to pay for an ad on this site, so consider this merely a nod in a cool direction.  Image above is entitled:  Blogger (digg it digg it digg it).