Poetry Outside Our Window
April 7, 2016 § Leave a comment
National Poetry Month always comes as a nudging reminder that I should incorporate poetry into my read-aloud time with my children. Even beyond all the compelling research, which reveals that poetry helps younger kids hone reading skills and older kids develop stronger comprehension, one could easily argue that there’s no greater medium to seduce children into falling in love with language. Lifetime readers are born out of love like this.
Still, it’s easier said than done. When I’m tired at the end of a day, when the dishes are piled in the sink and I’m yearning for a little veg time on the couch, it’s hard to summon up the energy for a poem while tucking in the kids. A chapter from a novel we’re already hooked on? Always. A picture book with a straightforward narrative? No hesitation. A poem that may require multiple readings, clarification, and discussion? Oh, will you look at the time…
Earlier this week, I came across a piece written by a ninth-grade English teacher, titled “4 Reasons to Start Class with a Poem Each Day.” Even though this teacher’s courses are centered on novels, he begins every lesson with a poem. Why? Well, to start with, poems are short. They’re also intense (BAM!) and thought-provoking. They connect back to other things, literary or not. And they’re inspiring.
I got to thinking: maybe I’m looking at this whole poetry-before-bed thing all wrong. Maybe poetry should have a place in our mornings!
I once talked to a mom who told me that she reads a chapter each morning to her children during breakfast, that this has become a lovely way to connect with her children and start their morning off on a high note. This vision has stuck with me all these years—it sounds lovely—but it also screams of impracticality for my life (do I stop reading every time I have to get up to get a napkin, or pour the milk, or ask my child why it appears his hair is never brushed?). No, I’m quite certain that reading at breakfast would just cause more chaos.
At the same time, considering that we’re talking about increasingly fleeting time with my kids, breakfast perhaps feels more transactional than it should. We have the same conversations over and over (“What do you think you’re going to do today?” “I don’t know.”). The refreshing exceptions tend to come when one of us remarks on something spotted through the window: a slew of fallen branches from the storm the night before; the neon green buds on the maple tree; the cardinal dancing in the dogwood. With our window frames as launch pads, time seems to stop for a brief spell. The rush is momentarily forgotten. I suddenly remember why I love these sweet, observant, uncoiffed little people on either side of me.
Then I got my hands on Julie Fogliano’s brand new poetry picture book, When Green Becomes Tomatoes: Poems for All Seasons (Ages 5-10), lovingly illustrated by Julie Morstad, and I thought: What if, during breakfast, I occasionally read aloud a poem that corresponded to what’s happening in the season we’re in? When Green Becomes Tomatoes features pithy nature poems, each titled for a specific day of the month (beginning and ending with March). Not every day of every month is represented (thank goodness, because I am not that disciplined): in April, for example, we have poems for April 3, 12, 23 and 27.
I don’t think Fogliano has any intention of us being strictly literal here—her spring poems can be read anytime in spring, her fall poems anytime in fall. One could even sit down and read the whole year through, feeling nostalgic about seasons gone by and hopeful about those to come.
The point is that there is potential to leave this chronologically-organized book within reach in the kitchen or dining room or wherever one breakfasts—and to pick it up once a week or so to illuminate what’s happening outside the window. In the most beautiful of ways.
Because, when I read these poems aloud to my kids, which we have been doing now for the past week, it is as if Fogliano is sitting around the breakfast table with us, looking out our same windows and describing in short, lyrical phrases exactly what we are seeing and thinking and feeling, only with greater precision and elegance. I suppose it is hardly surprising that I would fall fast for this book, seeing as I fell in love with Fogliano when her 2012 poem about winter giving way to spring was turned into the evocative picture book, And Then It’s Spring (and, coincidentally, my very first blog post!). In the spirit of that first poem comes these 50 new ones, each proving without a doubt that Fogliano has a delicate, graceful, ever-keen touch that transforms the everyday into the magical.
Just yesterday, when surprising frosty temperatures brought the kids to the breakfast table in sweaters over their spring uniforms, we read:
shivering and huddled close
the forever rushing daffodils
wished they had waited
Here’s another, which perfectly sums up the way we’re all feeling in this sluggish back turn towards winter.
the sky was too busy sulking to rain
and the sun was exhausted from trying
to wear their sadness
on the outside
and even the birds
and all their singing
inside of all that gray
Fogliano’s poems are immensely accessible. They flow stream-of-consciousness in an innocent, childlike way. Each line is comprised of just a few words. There’s little to no punctuation. The vocabulary is common. They would be great material for a developing reader. They would certainly inspire a child looking to try his or her hand at poetry. They’re equally perfect for a mother still waking up, just attempting to feed her children breakfast.
soon we will go to the beach
where we will swim
and eat plums and peanut butter sandwiches
and we will think to ourselves
as we eat
on our blanket in the sand
that nothing in the world
could possibly be more delicious
than those plums
and those peanut butter sandwiches
a little bit salty
and warm from the sun
YES PLEASE! (There’s no law that says you can’t skip ahead for a little breakfasting optimism.)
Some of the poems induce chuckles; others are followed by pregnant pauses. With some, the meaning is there to grab quickly; with others, it’s harder to pin down and open for debate. Taken together, these are everything poetry should be for the elementary child.
other than the cows
everyone has gone
either into or underneath
curled up and covered
but the cows just stand
black and blinking
not noticing that it is cold
and everyone has gone
My son, sitting next to me as I’m typing this, has just paged through the book and discovered one for September, right around the time of his birthday. “Mommy, you should really type this one up and tell your readers to cut it out and give it to their kids on the first day of school, because this is exactly what school-starting time feels like.” (Even he sees the potential for these poems to start the day—or year—off right!)
i like it here
on this side of winter
where notebooks are new
apples are best
and freezing still feels far away
but near enough to notice
Morstad’s delightful, child-centric watercolors (there are no adults pictured) are at times playful and at other times serene, betraying her own interpretation of each poem. And yet, as in her earlier picture book, How To, Morstad never clutters her paintings. She takes liberties with empty space, often placing her (commendably) multiracial figures off to the side, giving the poems the room they need to breathe. In the absence of line and form and color, we can build our own meaning, take each poem and make it our own.
The result of just one week of reading aloud from this book (and leaving it lying around for bored hands to find) is that we’re once again building momentum around poetry inside our home. Over the weekend, Emily took down Shel Silverstein’s Where the Sidewalk Ends, and had me read it to her; I followed that up by introducing her to Silverstein’s modern (equally laugh-out-loud) descendent, Jack Prelutsky. JP later got out Jon J. Muth’s gentle seasonal haikus, which reminded me that When Green Becomes Tomatoes is joining an already impressive lineup of year-round nature poetry. I’ve included a list below of my favorites, most of which I have discussed in past years.
Perhaps each morning, as we throw open the door and greet the day with full bellies, we will remember that we are stepping into the stuff of poetry. Take a look. It’s all around.
Other Favorite Poetry Picture Books About the Seasons:
Hi Koo!: A Year of Poems, by Jon J. Muth (Ages 3-8)
Firefly July: A Year of Very Short Poems (Ages 5-12)
A Child’s Calendar, by John Updike (Ages 5-10)
Winter Bees and Other Poems of the Cold, by Joyce Sidman (Ages 6-12)
Red Sings from Treetops: A Year in Colors, by Joyce Sidman & Pamela Zagarenski (Ages 6-12)
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