Monday, 29 April 2013

Where do good ideas come from?

A lot of great questions on creativity, innovation and originality coming out of the Grade 7 classes.  Here is the first clip we viewed together to get the conversation going.

What do you think?  Where do good ideas come from?  Do you agree with the idea of slow hunches colliding into each other?  What creative spaces can we carve and nurture today to allow for creativity to flourish?  :)  

Sunday, 14 April 2013

Welcome Back from Spring Break 2013

Just wanted to say welcome back everyone!

It's 10:18 pm on the last day of our two week break and yes, I am counting down the minutes until I need to wake up at 5am everyday again.  But I have missed you all and I am looking forward to seeing everyone again in the classroom again.  We have a lot of work ahead of us (eep!) so I hope you had a restful spring break and are now read to write, write, write and write some more.

So, what have you all been up to?  I guess, I will find out soon enough.  In the meantime, here is a poem  by Wendell Berry. I have certainly been a victim of this.  Sometimes it's okay, I guess. (Hello, Instagram girl, remember...)  but I wouldn't wish this on anyone's every time.  :)

The Vacation

Once there was a man who filmed his vacation.
He went flying down the river in his boat
with his video camera to his eye, making
a moving picture of the moving river
upon which his sleek boat moved swiftly
toward the end of his vacation. He showed
his vacation to his camera, which pictured it,
preserving it forever: the river, the trees,
the sky, the light, the bow of his rushing boat
behind which he stood with his camera
preserving his vacation even as he was having it
so that after he had had it he would still
have it. It would be there. With a flick
of a switch, there it would be. But he
would not be in it. He would never be in it.

Oh and what have I been up to?  Aside from reading your work and peeking into your google drive folders?  
Where I spent Week 1
Highlight of Week 2 

Yup. We got to see Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye live.  It was pretty awesome.  Here's a video of one of the poems they recited together. An oldie but a goodie. 

Anyway, I hope you guys had a great break.  Anything interesting happen to you?  Leave a comment or a link if you blogged about it?  

Wednesday, 3 April 2013

Spring Break Project Prompt # 3

Trying another one:

Seems like it takes me a day to mull over these prompts.  So am thinking my post to respond to this prompt will come up on Friday.  But who knows, the writing muses might hit me tomorrow. Maybe.  What's would our bottled memory be?

Spring Break Project: "Invisible"

The second prompt went like this ...

The Invisible Person

Life kept rolling her over   
like a piece of driftwood

in the surf of an angry sea   
she was intelligent and beau-

tiful and well-off she made   
friends easily yet she wasn’t

able to put the pieces to-
gether into any recognizable

shape   she wasn’t sure who   
she wanted to be   so she

ended up being no one in par-
ticular   she made herself al-

most invisible   she was the   
person you loved so much who

really wasn’t there at all.

She was tired of being invisible. So she wrote her life story on the walls of her ancestral home.  Everyone will think it's a kung fu super hero's journey but in between the lines, she penned the most intimate and detailed story of the secret compartments and complicated intricacies of her existence. She wrote about her dreams, loves found and lost, sin and redemption, real forgiveness, surrendering and letting go.  She wrote about what made her angry, vulnerable and lonely. She also wrote at length about what gave her strength, integrity and joy.  She came up with lists upon lists of things she was grateful for.  And yes, a long list of regrets.  She drew some, stuck some and edited herself a lot. It took her 3 months, 2 weeks and a couple of days to feel satisfied with the telling of her story.  Once she was done, she took one tan vintage suitcase and walked out the door.  Nobody every saw her again but her story lives on.  Narratives are written everywhere -- books, journals, skin, walls-- she thought.  She chose to disappear in the end. But she will never be invisible again.