Sketchbook Town-My Take

I graduated from Albion College in 1996 with a degree in Elementary Education and Visual Arts. Part of the reason I chose a visual arts degree is because I just loved art. That's it. I had no intention of becoming an art teacher. I went on to teach in the gen ed classroom for 21 years starting in second grade and ending in fifth. My lessons incorporated a lot of art because it was fun for me and the students responded well to it. I also had this ability to see the lesson before I taught it. But after 21 years, I was burnt out. I just couldn't correct one. more. paper. 

But I knew that I wanted to continue to teach and found my dream job: a creative arts teacher in a DK-1 building teaching STEAM. Teaching STEAM did not make me nervous and was not new to me. This concept is how I had taught for 21 years. Teaching littles, however, was a different story. I quickly learned they are just like fifth graders but smaller. I mostly used the same strategies I had in my previous classrooms but at their level. 

My students come to my STEAM class for an hour once a week. For the first two years in my buidling, the K art program was almost non exisitent until it was. I tried my best to incorporate a separate art lesson into the STEAM classroom but this proved to be challenging. Then COVID happened. While we were virtual, I offered to teach art virtually along with my STEAM lessons. When we came back in person this past fall, I knew we needed to continue to offer a separate space for the K kids to have art, so they saw STEAM and art as different classes. My plan was not ideal, but it worked. I would see the K kids one week for art in the art studio and the next week for STEAM in the STEAM lab. And we have been doing this since the first day of school. 

I NEVER thought I would love teaching art as its own entity, but I do. Before I actually taught my first class of straight art, I found myself with that familiar panic from four years ago of uneasiness. I delved right into reading art teacher blog posts, joined art teacher communities, and bought a few books. I then stumbled upon Cassie Stephens. I liked her right away. I liked her ideas and the language she used to make connections with her students. I ordered her book Art Teacherin' 101 and read it in one sitting. There were many ideas in her book that definately would work for me. The one that I loved the most was her earlier finishers idea of Sketchbook Town. Because of the lack of space in my art studio (I share with two other teachers), I tweaked Sketchbook Town to work for me and my students.  It took months and an inquiry approach with my students to get it where it is today. 

When I first read the idea, I knew it was going to happen. During my first kindergarten art class, I had one container of early finishers coloring sheets. I explained to the students what they would be doing second, when they were done with their masterpiece. On this particular day, I showed them the coloring sheet and talked about Sketchbook Town. I told them that Sketchbook Town is a place they could visit when they were done with their masterpiece and would be coming soon but for now there was Practice Sketchbook Town. Sketchbook Town was sending different art skills to practice before they felt they were ready to make an appearance. Practice Sketchbook Town wanted to make sure they used small strokes when coloring and all white spaces needed to be filled in. I don't remember what masterpiece the students completed that day, but I do remember what one of my student's said. "I wonder what Practice Sketchbook Town will bring us next time we have art."

With that, I knew what direction this was going to head. 

The following art class, I set up a bulletin board with a title that read Sketchbook Town. I mirrored Cassie's painting, rules, and what you can do when you visit Sketchbook Town. I also added another activity in Practice Sketchbook Town, scissors skills. We had just learned how to use scissors in STEAM class so this fit perfect. When the students came in, I showed them the bulletin board and said, "It looks like Sketchbook Town is leaving us clues!" I also told the students that there was something new in Practice Sketchbook Town today, scissors skills. So now the students had a choice or could do both activities if they had time after their masterpiece was completed. 

The Finished Bulletin Board

For the rest of September, October, November, and December, Practice Sketchbook Town gained a new skill each time. Many of these activities were going to find a home in Sketchbook Town, but the students could practice them each time they came to art. There is playdough, how to draw books, coloring, scissors, beading, just creating, and the Beautiful Oops bin. During all this practice, there was no sketchbook for them because they were just practicing. And Sketchbook Town continued to leave us hints with rules to follow and a shelf of new materials.  The students were bursting with excitement and couldn't wait for the grand opening of Sketchbook Town.

It started as one practice activity and evolved to this!

It was in December when I told them that I heard Sketcbook Town was going to be open for visitors after winter break. I wondered with them what they would bring us. How would it look? Then a student said, "Do you think Practice Sketchbook Town will still be here when Sketchbook Town opens?' And with that question, I answered, "Yes." 

I spent a day over winter break getting the art studio ready for Sketchbook Town. Nothing elaborate but some new decorations and wall decor. Enough for the students to notice. I also wrote a nice letter and created 200 Sketchbooks. 

 Sketchbook Town

I am not sure who was more excited, me or the students. But the week finally arrived where I would repeat this lesson eight times. It was a hit! They all noticed the new decorations and decor, loved the letter inviting them to Sketchbook Town, and decorating their sketchbooks with paint sticks. Then they got to go visit Sketchbook Town. They loved the painted mannequins (another Cassie idea), little animals, and legos. I know they love to build because I have them in STEAM class, but this time after they build something, they sketch it out and many times, color in their sketch. Some students chose to not visit Sketchbook Town but went to Practice Sketchbook Town. 

Some new rules were put into place. You only need your sketchbook when visiting Sketchbook Town and no markers were to be used in these books. Sketchbooks stay until the end of the year but you could bring anything home you completed in Practice Sketchbook Town. Sketchbook Town and Practice Sketchbook Town would always come back on two conditions: 1. You don't rush through your masterpiece. 2. When I say it is time to clean up, it is time to clean up. If one or both of those don't happen, they will not come back the following art period. 

So far so good. The studnets LOVE the two choices to visit. No one rushes through their masterpieces and ALL the students know what to do when they are cleaned up. Sketchbook Town and Practice Sketchbook Town have made an appearance each and every time except one. They were both out of town BUT left their cousins in their place. Cousin Must Do and Cousin May Do. 

A Gift

About a week ago, I stopped by my friend Frances's house for a short visit. She had just returned from Houston where she spent five months fighting a disease that had invaded her body a second time. Her family thought it would be great for friends to stop by and say hello. It would cheer her up. I knew that Frances had lost weight and was slow to respond when she was awake, but I never expected to see my mother in Frances when I arrived. 

My mother passed away from the disease that was trying to take Frances. There were so many similiarities between the two of them. When I walked into the room where Frances lay, propped up at an angle by the support of the bed she was on, I was brought back to June of 1998. I was looking at Frances but seeing my mother. 

Frances's breath was steady and slow. I talked to her as her "sister from another mother" stroked her hand. I told her about school, how my district hadn't made a decision about what it would look like in the fall, and how I was patiently waiting. 

Twenty-two years ago, I had a similar conversation with my mother as she lay in almost the same position, unable to open her eyes, but able to hear my words. I was just finishing up my first year of teaching. She had grown fond of the students in my classroom and got to know them through the stories I told her. 

During that first year, I had a second grader named Kamiah. She was tall, kind, and hardworking. She was curious and always proud. I remember her infectious smile and detail to everything in her handwriting, daily work, and art. 

My mother took her final breath during the last week of school of my first year of teaching. I never completed the year but somehow everything got done. 

Recently, Kamiah crossed my path as Frances fought to survive. And I can't help but think my mother had something to do with it. 

Because of the pandemic, Kamiah was laid off from her job in April. Looking for something to fill her new found free time, she started painting. Kamiah has a natural gift. It is evident in her work. She recently started a daily challenge to practice and improve her skills. I knew the moment I saw the painting of Day 1, I had to have it. I reached out to her about purchasing this painting and received it a few days before I went to visit Francis.  

Day 1

This painting means so much more to me than I could have ever imagined.  Everytime I look at it, I see a young Frances. Forever loving life and touching those who were lucky enough to have crossed her path. 

My dear friend Frances lost her battle this morning with her family by her side. Rest in peace my sweet friend. You will be missed. 

Frances

To view Kamiah's art, please visit:

meahs_art on instagram 

Meah's Art on facebook

Taking It With Me

It sits high at the corner of MLK and Malcolm X. I see it every single day when I drive to work right before I turn right to head onto the freeway. It's a white billboard with a large black circle in the middle of it. Inside that circle are white letters that remind me of my one little word (OLW) that I chose for 2019. Actually, it isn't really a word but a phrase: You got this. All year long that billboard remained there exactly the same. And every day as I drove past, I silently said those words.

There were days that life got overwhelming between the pressure that I put on myself at work to driving my kids to their activities to working a second job at night to this and that and the other. But the funny thing is that each time I started feeling that way, I envisioned the billboard and repeated those words because one day life will slow down and the kids will be gone and You've got this will have a different meaning.

As 2019 was coming to a close, I started to think about my OLW for 2020. A few days ago I had been reading an article in Magnolia by Joanna Gaines. She was reflecting on her year and how she likes to be busy all the time but realized that life moves fast. And in this article she talked about a phrase that she is going to work on for the new year. As soon as I read it, I knew that this was going to be my OLW (or phrase) for 2020: Look up.

So going into 2020, I am going to look up more. I am going to revel in my kids and the age they are now. I am going to slow down and live each day. Worry less. Know that things will get done when they get done because I am a doer. Take in the moments. And just live.

I am also going to be taking my OLW from 2019 with me into 2020 as well. I didn't anticipate this happening until about 12:30 in the morning, when not one, but both of my girls decided to ring in the new year with the stomach flu. As I woke every hour after hearing momma, helping them walk to the bathroom to finish emptying the contents of their bellies, pulling hair back, washing bowls, disinfecting over and over, I did take a moment to look up. At that moment, I was appreciative. Appreciative that I was on break so I could take care of them. Appreciative that despite of everything, they will get through this. And appreciative of the moments of silence when they are both resting so I have enough time to write this post.

Because sooner rather than later, You got this is going to run through my mind until this stomach bug is out of my house!

Forever and a Day

I am in this club. But not by choice. It's a club that no woman ever thinks she will be in but many find themselves there. Some when they are very young. Still girls. Others later in life. Regardless of the age you join, there is one thing for certain: every member knows how you are feeling.

If you aren't a member, you just don't know. You just don't know how it feels until it happens to you. And my only wish, readers, is that you don't have to join for a long, long time. The club I am talking about is the motherless.

It was twenty-one years ago, this evening, that my mother took her last breath. She was in the comfort of her own bed ready to go home to her own mother, father, and older sister. They had long passed but on this night they were there. She saw them and was ready.

No matter how many times I replay that night in my head and how sad I get about it, I always feel a sense of comfort. She left the world with the same people who brought her into it. 

My mother was an amazing woman. She raised three strong-willed, independent girls while working full time at whichever job suited her: teacher, social worker, lawyer, business owner. She created memories for my sisters and me while teaching us the value of hard work and volunteering. I spent my high school years building homes for Habitat for Humanity and serving meals to those less fortunate. After my mother had died, I learned about all the things she did for my friends. I never knew about this and probably never would have, but my high school friends reached out to me with sympathy letting me know how much they appreciated her kindness.  

I often think about how much good my mother had done in the world during her short 54 years. She was a shining example of what it meant to pay it forward. In all her months of being sick I never once heard, why me? Our conversations were always about others. Like many mothers, she put everyone else first.

Every few years, in her memory, I feel an urge to do something for others. I am a firm believer in paying it forward and try to do it as much as I can. This year, I am going to pay it forward for the entire year (June 2019-June 2020). Each month, I will send a $50 check to a teacher to use for their classroom. You might need Kleenex or pencils or papers or markers or a new game. You might go to garage sales to try to stretch it. Maybe there is something you think your students might like but would never spend your own money on because you are busy spending the money on things that your students need to be successful. Whatever it may be, I trust that you will use that money in your classroom and the things you buy will benefit your students. I trust you, because that is what my mother would have done.

My mother at 26. 

That Magical Place

Dear 2019 Camp Arbutus Hayo-Went-Ha Staff,

I grew up going to various day and sleep away camps. It was one of the only places during my youth that I felt I belonged. When I went away to college, I found myself working at Camp Arbutus Hayo-Went-Ha during the summers because I loved being outdoors, and I loved the impact that I had on the campers. I even worked at camp after my first year of teaching but couldn't go back the following summer because I was too exhausted when I started the school year. It wasn't fair to my new class of students.

I missed being at camp so much that I started bringing my students up there. For 19 years, I gained the trust of the parents in my classroom to allow me to take their children three plus hours away for three to five days. And here is what happened. The kids in my classroom that struggled were shining stars at camp. Those days at camp were exhausting but my students got to experience something they probably would never be able to: the magic of camp.

There is something about camp that only camp friends can understand. There is a closeness and bond that is unbreakable, and it doesn't matter if you are there for one summer or ten. You will grow in ways you never thought possible. You will become more independent, self sufficient, mothering, and creative. You will learn how to really talk and listen to kids. As much as this summer is about you growing as a person, it is also about helping your campers grow too.

Some of these girls are away at camp for the first time. Most by choice and some not. It is your job to build a sense of community and closeness in your cabin. That is most effectively done by building relationships with your campers. You will have campers that you gel with right away and others that might drive you a little nuts. You need to look past that and find something that bonds you two together. These girls have one chance at childhood and you are a big part in it. EVERYTHING about camp will leave a lasting impression on them. Make it good. Make it positive.

My daughter, Kate's first year at girls camp was during the summer of 2018. She was familiar with the grounds and cabins because we had attended a few mother-daughter weekends together over the years. She went to camp knowing no one and left with tradition and memories that she has spent the last school year talking about. She has an entire shelf of just "camp clothes," has started making lists of things she needs to remember to bring, and is anxiously waiting to meet up with her friends from last summer and the older girls that befriended her. She continues to sing songs and tell anyone who will listen about Super Saturday, the food fight, casino night, and the fourth of July.

Kate is outgoing and is a camp girl. She adapts to pretty much any situation and tends to go with the flow. She can be the messiest girl in the cabin or organize a cleaning party. She is inclusive but shy. .She is ten and is already starting to talk about the extended trip to Alaska. Here is what I know.  Kate LOVES camp because of the tradition, activities, and you, the counselors.

You will be exhausted. You are mother hen to a full cabin of girls. Take care of yourself. On your day off, rest. Take it easy. Recharge. Because although this summer is about you, it is also about them. The young girls that leave their families for two to four weeks and for some more. Camp is a magical place. And if you don't know that already, you will. Soak it all in. Learn. Grow. But most importantly, be a role model for a young girl. This is one reason why I send Kate to camp. She needs to see that women are strong, can be in leadership positions, and are capable of going through life truly happy with who they are.

A Letter to My Mother

I have been thinking a lot about something Prince Harry said recently after the birth of his son. He said, "Missing a mother is like missing some type of security." As this Mother's Day comes to a close, those words remind me that mothers are the glue that hold a family together. And when you have lost your own mother, no matter the age, a part of you is and will always be missing. So in honor of my mother today, the 20th Mother's Day without her, I have written her a letter. It is found below.

Dear Mom,

You never knew this but six months before you passed away I went to see a lady who read my star chart from the night I was born. She had some interesting things to say, and I believe she had a bit of psychic ability. She told me that someone very close to me was sick and that she wasn't sure she was going to make it to Mother's Day. But if she did, then she would pull through the month of May and pass away sometime during the summer months.

It was the day before Mother's Day of 1998. Heather, Dad, and I were at the hospital. You didn't look well. All of your energy was drained from your face and eyes. You were saying your good-byes; I was for sure that this was it. I had prepared myself for what was to come. Waiting for a phone call that night. But one never came. The next day Heather and I went back to the hospital because Dad had stayed the night. We went to your room and you were no where to be found. All of your stuff was in its place but not you. We inquired about your whereabouts and one of the nurses said you were walking around with Dad. Heather and I searched the halls for you, eventually finding  you talking to another patient. I looked at you and knew. Knew that we had been given more time with our beautiful mother. You were in full spirits, the energetic mother I always knew. You said you woke up feeling great. We spent Mother's Day with you in the hospital. I don't remember what we did or talked about. I just remember leaving feeling grateful that I had one more day with you.

The call came late on June 5, 1998. I was at my apartment already in bed because I had to teach the next day. I was finishing up my first year of teaching down in Detroit. The school year was a week from from being done, and I was not around to see the end. There were more important things to tend to. I found comfort in knowing that your dad, mom, and sister came to get you as you took your last breath. You were always a believer in spirits and the afterlife. And this belief brought you peace as you moved on to the next chapter of your life.

Within two weeks of your funeral, I went to work at summer camp. It was there that I met John, and I know you had a hand in that. Do you remember the note you left my sisters and I? The one where you told us how you saw us in your eyes? I still have it. And I find it only fitting that you saw me as your quiet girl who loved the outdoors. You saw me for who I was and never wanted to change me. And that boy you sent me. We were married five years later.

As I get closer to the age of your passing, I find myself remembering more. I remember all the things you did for the three girls you raised. The countless hours of driving us to this practice or that game. Providing us with opportunities to pursue our interests. Trusting me as a 16 year old to use your car. Showing me how to sew and allowing me to travel to another country alone when I was 18. Putting up with my crazy ideas knowing it wasn't right for me but letting me figure that out on my own. Making me call you every night as I traveled across the country alone by u-haul.

Above all you were a mother. One who knew when to let her girls go but always worried about them. You were the glue that held us together. I only hope that I am the type of mother to my own kids that you were to us. I miss you Mom. Every. Single. Day.

Love your middle child,

Elana

Giving Back

Today I took my daughter, Sophie, to Justice to use a gift card that she received for Christmas. This was the umpteenth time we have been to this store in the past two months. There were a few things she had been eyeing and decided today to get one of those things. 

She is really good about money. Last fall, I had given her and her sister cash to use at their will for back to school shopping. She and her sister both went through all their clothes prior to shopping, so they knew what they needed to buy. They ended up giving eight bags of clothes that didn't fit to a family that has two girls younger than mine. They felt good that their old clothes were going to a new home, and I was giving them the opportunity to buy what they needed and wanted.

For me, though, this was all about budgeting. The first thing they asked about were coupons. Once they knew what stores they wanted to go to, we searched online for some. Surprisingly, we found a few. I made sure to give them cash so they could see exactly how much money they had left. I held onto one kid's money while their dad held onto the other. We followed their itinerary. Let's just say that a trip my husband thought would be over quickly lasted many many hours. Both girls would look at how much something cost before trying it on. They both wanted to make sure they bought the things they needed before they bought what they really wanted. I heard things such as "Oh, that's a good deal." and "That's too expensive." All in all, they bought a lot for the amount of money they had. I was proud of how they realized that you really must take your time to price things out and sometimes you can't have what you want. It was a really good experience, and one I will do again.

Ever since then, both girls have been very conscious about what they spend their money on. So today, Sophie bought a watch. She went to check out and the total was $15.74.

The cashier asked her, "Do you want to round up the total to $16.00 and donate to Girls on the Run?"

I explained to Sophie what that meant and she replied, with bright eyes and a big smile, "I do Girls on the Run! Sure."

I keep replaying her reply in my head. She was so excited to give to something that she was a part of. Something that she loves. It wasn't much. But it was something. And it made her heart happy to know that she is giving a little something to an activity that she adores.