Thursday, July 19, 2007

Tyler State Park




Fun to be with the Rodgers. After working at the house, we drove the short distance to the lake.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Art Teacher





In 1967 as a new 8th grade art teacher in LA, I was determined not to interfere with student creativity. It would flow unrestrained from each personality. This was the 60's. "Do your own thing."


Accordingly, I gave little direction as my class began their clay assignment--a mobile.
"So what shall we do?"
"Make whatever you want," I said, oozing with idealism.

The students were frustrated--and ultimately disappointed. Not one student felt happy about his work. When I attempted to persuade one girl to take hers home she said, all too candidly, "It's ugly. My Mom won't want it."

Since then, I've tried to match my mentoring to the project. While I still see myself as a champion of individuality, all of us need models, prompts, ideas for a jump-start. Yes, often we can give paints and paper and get out of their way, but other projects call for close mentoring, as with Inkodye. I try to leave it enough in their hands that it remains the child's work, but I'm perfectly willing to monitor to insure some measure of success.

During the planning phase: "Maude, if you make a crescent-moon shape next to your round plum like this (drawing on my paper) don't you think that's what plums look like?" "Do you want to try a little dot of blue somewhere on your purple plum?" If she hesitates I'm willing to drop my idea.

A few days later, when I offered to let the children do another project I said, "And this time I won't try to tell you what to do." Ralph smiled with an appreciative 9-year-old snort.

My rationale is this, now when Maude paints a fruit or a sky or an anything, a little dot of some other color might make a nice addition. And she was happy to take her finished plum and show her mother.


Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Cousin Story


They tell me 9-year-old Ike and Ralph were each playing games, GameBoy and Rush Hour respectively. Then one cousin said, "I'm stuck!" The other one said, "I'm stuck, too." They traded and each one finished the other's game.

Pic: playing a Webkins game on the computer at Urq's/.

Wildfires


Southbound on I-15 this weekend, before I reached Fillmore I could see a wall of smoke ahead in the distance, miles wide. I called home to see if there were news forecasts. All clear. I passed a lineup of yellow-clad firefighters, emergency vehicles parked and I sensed they must be in control.

But a few miles farther, driving into the haze the smoke thickened eerily, eventually blocking out the 2:00pm sun and restricting vision. I called home. "Google these fires. Are you sure I'm not driving into one?" The report sounded safe. It's smoke blowing from fires far away.


Past Meadow, the smoke become so dense that I could barely make out roadsigns--"Cove Fort ahead"--but I could see traffic coming from the south. Then conditions grew more ominous. The wall of smoke on our right grew thicker, the wind blowing brown clouds and bits of debris across our path. Other traffic disappeared except for the two or three cars around me. The wall of smoke beside us gradually glowed red. Still going 70 mph, I panicked and rolled down my window. I could hear it, smell it, feel the heat. I couldn't see ahead and the median was too deep to turn around. I prayed aloud, believing I was driving into an inferno.

Finally the smoke thinned slightly and my relief was enormous. Soon it was clear enough to see the UWP on the other side of the freeway,stopping traffic. No doubt they were stopping traffic just behind us, too.

Two days later driving home, the smoldering trees, rocks, road signs in that area were gray with ashes. The fire had crossed the freeway and burned well into the other side.

Pic. on left is the road first becoming darker (After I got scared I didn't take pictures or use my phone). Pic on rt. are the fires around Beaver on my way home yesterday; they look small and almost benign off in the distance.

Thursday, July 05, 2007