More on the book below. But, first, my Poetry Friday contribution this week: <\/p>\n <\/p>\n This is a poem, entitled “Lessons,” written by a good friend, Shannon Collins, who teaches teachers and teacher-wannabes here<\/strong><\/a>. Shannon was one of two friends who attended last week’s reading by Mary Oliver with me, and we talked a bit about education that night. He sent me this a bit later, one of his poems published in the Spring 2003 issue of Now and Then<\/strong><\/a><\/em>. <\/p>\n Now Here’s My Probably-Unnecessary Disclaimer<\/em>: I realize not all the teachers of the world are the “exacting” type of this poem; in fact, 7-Imp has some readers who are the type of teachers (I call them “sparkly-souled”) who I wish inhabited the world’s schools. Hence, this disclaimer. But I like the poem, which so vividly captures the work\/play of a kindergartener (“from eyes to mind to heart to hands”), and I want to share. It raised the hairs on my arms. (And it made me think of this Harry-Chapin song<\/strong><\/a> my mother used to play when I was little. That song lodged itself comfortably into a corner of my brain when I was wee and never really moved out.)<\/p>\n “Lessons” by S.D. Collins<\/p>\n The assignment was to draw the moon. <\/p>\n Filled with kindergarten wonder she climbed The assignment was to draw the moon.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n Thanks to Shannon for sharing. <\/p>\n I’ll close with one more spread from it: <\/p>\n<\/a>
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(Click to enlarge the spread and see its wonderful details.)<\/em><\/center><\/p>\n
\nas high as the rusting swing could offer,
\nbalanced in the phosphorescent
\nrays of the evening\u2019s business
\nand saw beyond to the airy regions
\nwhere bands of chalky cirrus crossed
\ntrails of jets forming tic-tac-toe battle plains
\nplayed by earth and sky. Too, she noted how
\nin all the stars that flecked the ether
\nnot a one was yellow or five-pointed
\nbut were sparkles of pixie-dust ripe
\nfor scooping and sprinkling at show-and-tell.
\nThat night she looked with the wonder of Copernicus,
\nwas kissed by flames that swallowed van Gogh
\nand wanted to share it all with all who cared to know
\nwhat she now knew to be a night sky. Using every
\nshade of color of her blunted crayons, she drew:
\nfrom eyes to mind to heart to hands she drew.
\nWho knew her greatest lesson would be in discovering
\nthe dispirited frown of an exacting teacher
\nwho across curled lips breathed,<\/p>\n![](\"http:\/\/blaine.org\/jules\/nightlightscover.jpg\")
For those of you interested in more about Susan Gal’s book: I’ve had an ARC for a while now and assumed the book was already on shelves, but I see, upon further investigation, that it will be released in November. But when that time comes, you will be doing yourself a favor to take a gander at Night Lights<\/strong><\/a><\/em> — particularly, if you’re a fellow Illustration Junkie. Or, you know, afraid of the dark. Susan’s picture book debut celebrates the lights of night, as a young girl—with her mother and pet dog—head home on their bikes after some shopping (“streetlight,” “headlight,” “porch light”); have dinner; throw a birthday party for the pet (“candlelight”); and hit the sack after a bit of play and the usual bed-time routine. This is a cozy, reassuring bed-time read and doesn’t try too hard to be anything but. Susan, a graduate of Art Center College of Design<\/strong><\/a>, uses mixed media and collage (or so it seems to me)—and her dark night-time palette, splashed with the vivid yellows of the night’s lights—to bring us highly-patterned and texturized illustrations. They’re busy — but not overwhelming. They’re detailed and inviting and ones to pore over if you’ve got a moment or two — and get as excited about illustration as Yours Truly. <\/p>\n