Dogs speak words
But only poets
And children
Hear
~Patricia MacLachlan~
I continue reading aloud The Poet’s Dog, by Patricia MacLachlan, with chapters two and three. Chapter two is 6:48 and chapter three is 1:44.
In chapter one you met Teddy the dog who found the children, Nickel and Flora, in a snowstorm. In the following chapters, Teddy takes the children to Sylvan’s cabin. There is much to learn.
Jennie
It’s not everyday that a WWII plane appears out of nowhere, overhead, in my own backyard. It was enormous! Hubby thought it could be a B-24 or even a rarer B-29 Superfortress.
Somehow it seemed very fitting. Yesterday at school I pulled out my autoharp and Miles asked to sing “This Land is Your Land.” I was surprised. While the song was the most popular song last year (understatement), we have only sung it one time this year – two weeks ago.
That’s all it took.
So yesterday, we sang “This Land is Your Land” in an enormous way. Children stood up. They fought over who would hold the book while we sang.
What is it about patriotic songs? How is it that children can sense a strong, wonderful feeling? I don’t have an answer, but I will embrace their enthusiasm and sing those songs. Emergent curriculum. Patriotism. Children and music.
At pick-up time I asked Miles’ mom how he knew this song.
“He heard it from you. And he loves that song. He has been singing it non-stop every day.”
Jennie
Darlene Foster, a fellow blogger, friend, and a wonderful author, asked me to read aloud to her, and to you. She wanted me to read The Poet’s Dog, by Patricia MacLachlan. I am touched, Darlene. Thank you! Here I am, reading chapter one:
Please visit Darlene at Darlene Foster’s Blog.
If you want me to continue reading aloud the book, please let me know.
Jennie
“People should take time to be happy.” –Grandma Moses-
Thank you, Naomi, for bringing happiness to the children every day. ❤️
Jennie
My first read-aloud for the library this year was scheduled early. It was only a few days after Labor Day. I was excited. It was going to be the year of dog books, as I planned to read The Poet’s Dog, by Patricia MacLachlan, followed by Because of Winn Dixie, by Kate DiCamillo.
When I arrived at the library, no one was there! The head librarian was embarrassed and worried. Everyone had called in with sickness, vacation, and more. It was a fluke, and besides, school had only started the day before.
As I was leaving the library, in walked little Colin (a child in my class the past two years) and his family. Colin was excited to see me. We hugged and talked.
I know his family well. More than well.
Thirty years ago his dad, Eamonn, was in my preschool class. And that’s not all. When he was a senior in high school, he did his internship with me. He then became my assistant at summer camp. Boy, did we have fun! After college he was my assistant teacher in the classroom for a few years. When a child in the class had a grand mal seizure, Eamonn stepped in like a trained nurse. Clearly that was his calling. His love had always been children, yet he was destined to heal them instead of teach them. He is now a pediatric nurse at a top Boston hospital.
Back to the library…
“Why are you here, Jennie?”
“It’s the first read-aloud, but no one was able to make it. I know, it’s way too early to start. I usually begin the week after Labor Day.”
“What were you planning to read?”
“The Poet’s Dog.”
Silence…
“I’d like to hear the book. Would you read it to me? Please?”
“I’d love to, Eamonn!”
So, we sat together on the couch, and for thirty minutes I read aloud to Eamonn. My preschooler thirty years ago. Lump-in-my-throat wonderful. It doesn’t get any better than that.
Can you tell that Eamonn loved the book? I think he also liked his preschool teacher reading aloud to him – once again.
Here is my review of The Poet’s Dog:
“Dogs speak words. But only poets and children hear.”
Those are the opening words in Patricia MacLachlan’s book, The Poet’s Dog. I have read the book twice, because there are many words not to be missed; words that are pure and don’t need added adjectives and text. MacLachlan’s writing stands alone in a field of masterful literature. Her eighty-eight pages are some of the best I have ever read. In the words of the publisher:
“Alone in a fierce winter storm, Nickel and Flora are brave but afraid. A dog finds them. Teddy speaks words and brings them to shelter. The Poet’s cabin has light and food and love. But where is the poet? Teddy will tell the story of how words make poems and connect to those who hear each other.”
Sylvan the poet constantly reads to Teddy. He reads Yeats and Shakespeare. He also reads Charlotte’s Web, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and Ox Cart Man. Teddy learns how words follow one another.
I had no idea that Ox Cart Man, one of my favorite children’s books, is actually a poem. I scrambled to find my copy and read the words again, this time seeing the words for what they are meant to be – a poem. When I read the book again to my preschoolers this month, it will be more beautiful than ever.
The Poet’s Dog is a story of adventure, survival, love and friendship, death, reading and poetry. The beginning is a fishing line that hooks the reader, and the ocean opens to… well, you will have to read the book The ending is as surprising as ever.
I told a friend and fellow teacher about The Poet’s Dog and quoted to her the first lines, “Dogs speak words. But only poets and children hear.” Our conversation went something like this:
“I hear my cat. I know what she’s saying.”
“Then you must be either a child or a poet.”
“I’m a child. My heart is always a child. And I love poetry.”
She smiled a knowing smile. I did, too.
Jennie
A few years after I got my feet wet teaching, I read Robert Fulghum’s book, All I Really Need To Know I Learned in Kindergarten. That had a profound influence on my career. His opening essay seemed to take all the stars in the sky and bring them to earth in a simple package; for me it validated what I was learning, and how I was teaching children.
I knew that the ‘little things’ mattered the most, because they were really the big things in life. I felt renewed, and I followed my common sense and also my heart in teaching. I paid close attention to children and I began to become a child myself. That made me human to children. In that way, I could truly teach. And I do.
Here is his essay:
Most of what I really need
To know about how to live
And what to do and how to be
I learned in kindergarten.
Wisdom was not at the top
Of the graduate school mountain,
But there in the sandpile at Sunday school.These are the things I learned:
Share everything.
Play fair.
Don’t hit people.
Put things back where you found them.
Clean up your own mess.
Don’t take things that aren’t yours.
Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody.
Wash your hands before you eat.
Flush.
Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
Live a balanced life –
Learn some and think some
And draw and paint and sing and dance
And play and work everyday some.
Take a nap every afternoon.
When you go out into the world,
Watch out for traffic,
Hold hands and stick together.
Be aware of wonder.
I still have this essay, folded and slightly yellowed. I read it from time to time. It’s important. Today children live in a bigger world. There’s a much larger lens out there, and what they see is often tainted with lures that influence their thinking. Sadly, those lures influence their heart. If we, parents and teachers and adults, can stick with teaching children the important things, like Robert Fulghum did, that’s the best teaching we can do. Being loved and being valued = learning love and values.
Jennie
Romana was from Romania. She was the kindest little girl. She spoke very little English, yet she clearly enjoyed school. She is the child on the far right with the biggest smile.
I remember the day I took this photo. We were playing a game of Musical Chairs. In my version, every time the music stops I take away a chair. Children have to find a lap of another child to sit on. When we get down to two or three chairs, it is a scramble. The squeals and laughing say it all.
Romana loved this game. She also loved art. As a three-year-old she helped illustrate our classroom God Bless America book.
Romana was a born giver. She noticed everything. She loved Milly the Quilter.
The following year her younger sister, Stefana, was in my class. She was a delight. Then their little brother, Vlad, joined school. I loved these children.
I learned much about family traditions and culture in Romania. When Romana was five or six, she went to Romania – alone – to spend much of the summer with her grandparents. They only spoke Romanian.
And then the unthinkable happened. Their father became sick with cancer and died in a relatively short period of time. His mother came to America from Romania to see her son before he died. I went to their house to take care of the children so the adults could have some time together. That was so sad!
I will never forget the funeral. I’d never been to a Greek Orthodox funeral. It was formal, with an open casket. Children were in a playroom downstairs, yet Romana came into the sanctuary, saw me, and climbed up onto my lap for much of the funeral. She was fine. I held it together.
Over the next few years I visited, always bringing my autoharp and a stack of books. We played, sang, danced, and read stories. It was delightful.
Time moves on and so do children and their families. Last week the family stopped by school to say hello and goodbye, as they are moving out of town. I wasn’t there! So, they wrote messages to me on the chalkboard, and climbed up on the loft in my classroom to make me a video.
I have watched the video at least seven million times. I love you, Romana. I love your family. Thank you!
Jennie
I had the pleasure of being a guest on Pete Johnson’s fabulous blog, beetleypete.com. This post is truly the heart and soul of who I am. Thank you, Pete.
Jennie is an American blogger. She is a truly inspirational teacher of young children, with a real love of reading, books, and education.
She is not only the teacher I wish I had had, but the one we should all have had.
Here is her guest post.
How Reading-Aloud Made Me the Teacher and Person I Am Today.
My very first day of teaching preschool in Massachusetts, thirty-two years ago, was both career and life altering. Lindy, my co-teacher, asked me to read the picture books to children each day after our Morning Meeting. Sure (gulp)! I was new, scared, and unfamiliar with many children’s books. I had not been read to as a child, except for The Five Chinese Brothers from my grandmother. I still remember the page that opens sideways, with the brother who could stretch his legs. One book, and to this day I remember it…
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Lovely poem. It is the small things that matter most. In fact, the small things are truly the big things.
If life has taught me any lessons it is that there are never any short-cuts that don’t end up costing you, no quick fixes that put things right and that anything worthwhile is always about the details. The small things are really the biggest. They are the things that make the difference. They show you really care.
It’s the little things.
It’s the little things.
It is always the little things;
The touch of a hand,
A kind word,
A voice that sings;
The smile of a child
The caress of a breeze,
The flash of the wings.
That’s what warms the heart,
Gives strength to the mind
And gifts power
To everything you find.
For the little things
Are bigger than you think.
They provide the link.
It’s always the little things
That mean the most.
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To teachers everywhere – here is what an excellent school looks like. This is how four-year-olds learn best. Hands on, opened ended activities, time to problem solve, independent thinking, emergent curriculum. I love this school!
We are almost two weeks into our latest adventure at WT North Pre-K. This class of small scientists has been flowing right into the new routines. We’ve been slowly introducing materials and tools, allowing the children to become comfortable with the use and care of each before adding something new. As they play in this novel setting, we’ve had many opportunities to observe and wonder along with them.
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A Teacher's Reflections 