Thursday, June 24, 2010
San Gimignano
“There are places one comes home to that one has never been to: San Gimignano.” ~Barbara Grizzuti Harrison
I ventured into the Tuscany countryside to visit San Gimignano and Siena. One of my favorite parts of the day was the bus ride there. I was wooed by Tuscany’s gorgeous cypress trees, poppies, and rolling fields. I wondered what it was like to put up hay in these parts as compared to Nebraska. I didn’t see the big tractors we have in the Midwest, so it felt as if I stepped back in time. My first stop was San Gimignano, the New York City of Tuscany, with its towering medieval stonework. My first impression was that I would like to stay longer as it drew me in with its awe-inspiring views and abundant shopping. I was told by the tour guide to go behind the church, walk a little ways, and find some steps to climb for an amazing view. Once I reached the top, I could only put my hands on my hips and shake my head as I wondered, “How did I get so lucky?” There was a man sitting on a bench facing the view reading a book. There was a woman sitting on the ground just staring ahead. I’m sure they had the same thoughts as me.
After snapping numerous photos, I shopped for keepsakes to bring home for my family and friends. As I looked around, I started to notice the Black Rooster label on Chianti wines, on T-shirts, and in the linen shops. After doing some research, I learned about “the Legend of the Black Rooster”. If you know much about wine, you certainly have heard of Chianti Classico. The red wine produced in the area that lies between Florence to the north and Siena to the south (and beyond) has been enjoyed by people since 1000 A.D.
An amusing legend of the black rooster goes back to a time when the cities of Florence and Siena fought over the area that is now the Chianti Classico zone. The rivalry waged on for several years until the early 1200’s when leaders decided to settle the issue by a competition.
Two horsemen, one from Florence and the other from Siena, were to leave their hometowns at a cockcrow and where ever they met that exact spot would define their boarders. For this purpose, the Sienese chose a beautiful, well-fed white rooster who grew big and fat as their official timekeeper, while the Florentines instead chose a starving black rooster for their timekeeper. On that fateful day of the event, the black rooster began to crow early long before sunrise because he was so famished and the Florentine rider set off towards Siena. Meanwhile the Sienese white rooster took its time and began to crow at sunrise. As a result, the Florentine rider was able to cover more ground and met the Sienese rider just 12-19 kilometers (references differ) north of Siena. The boundary lines were drawn at the meeting spot and the majority of Chianti Classico region now fell under the jurisdiction of the Florentine Republic. Today, the Black Rooster label is placed on the neck of a bottle of wine from the Chianti Classico zone
(Information courtesy of The Legend of the Black Rooster by Terry Sullivan http://www.winetrailtraveler.com/opinion/columnists/blackrooster.php and interview with Giuseppe Liberatore, Director of Consortium Chianti Classico by Duccio Morozzo della Rocca http://www.teatronaturale.com/article/622.html )
Legends like the one about the Black Rooster make me fall in love more deeply with this place. There is so much history and legend and story that reaches up from the soil and into my imagination.
I ventured into the Tuscany countryside to visit San Gimignano and Siena. One of my favorite parts of the day was the bus ride there. I was wooed by Tuscany’s gorgeous cypress trees, poppies, and rolling fields. I wondered what it was like to put up hay in these parts as compared to Nebraska. I didn’t see the big tractors we have in the Midwest, so it felt as if I stepped back in time. My first stop was San Gimignano, the New York City of Tuscany, with its towering medieval stonework. My first impression was that I would like to stay longer as it drew me in with its awe-inspiring views and abundant shopping. I was told by the tour guide to go behind the church, walk a little ways, and find some steps to climb for an amazing view. Once I reached the top, I could only put my hands on my hips and shake my head as I wondered, “How did I get so lucky?” There was a man sitting on a bench facing the view reading a book. There was a woman sitting on the ground just staring ahead. I’m sure they had the same thoughts as me.
After snapping numerous photos, I shopped for keepsakes to bring home for my family and friends. As I looked around, I started to notice the Black Rooster label on Chianti wines, on T-shirts, and in the linen shops. After doing some research, I learned about “the Legend of the Black Rooster”. If you know much about wine, you certainly have heard of Chianti Classico. The red wine produced in the area that lies between Florence to the north and Siena to the south (and beyond) has been enjoyed by people since 1000 A.D.
An amusing legend of the black rooster goes back to a time when the cities of Florence and Siena fought over the area that is now the Chianti Classico zone. The rivalry waged on for several years until the early 1200’s when leaders decided to settle the issue by a competition.
Two horsemen, one from Florence and the other from Siena, were to leave their hometowns at a cockcrow and where ever they met that exact spot would define their boarders. For this purpose, the Sienese chose a beautiful, well-fed white rooster who grew big and fat as their official timekeeper, while the Florentines instead chose a starving black rooster for their timekeeper. On that fateful day of the event, the black rooster began to crow early long before sunrise because he was so famished and the Florentine rider set off towards Siena. Meanwhile the Sienese white rooster took its time and began to crow at sunrise. As a result, the Florentine rider was able to cover more ground and met the Sienese rider just 12-19 kilometers (references differ) north of Siena. The boundary lines were drawn at the meeting spot and the majority of Chianti Classico region now fell under the jurisdiction of the Florentine Republic. Today, the Black Rooster label is placed on the neck of a bottle of wine from the Chianti Classico zone
(Information courtesy of The Legend of the Black Rooster by Terry Sullivan http://www.winetrailtraveler.com/opinion/columnists/blackrooster.php and interview with Giuseppe Liberatore, Director of Consortium Chianti Classico by Duccio Morozzo della Rocca http://www.teatronaturale.com/article/622.html )
Legends like the one about the Black Rooster make me fall in love more deeply with this place. There is so much history and legend and story that reaches up from the soil and into my imagination.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Roma
“Not all those who wander are lost.” – J. R. R. Tolkien
Recipe for a day in Rome
Ingredients:
1 Camera
1 Good Map
2 Adventurous Friends
A large dose of a willingness to walk far distances
Then mix together the following in order:
Take the train into Rome
Get on the metro
Visit the Colosseum
Discover that the Basillica of St. Clement is only open at odd hours, so you’ll have to visit another time
Get Lost by the Roman Forums and something else
Ask for directions
Eat at Trattoria Giggetto Al Portico D’Ohavia in the Jewish Ghetto
Go inside the Pantheon
Ask for directions
Trevi Fountain (you must throw a coin over your shoulder in the fountain with your back to it)
Ask for directions
Sit on The Spanish Steps, then by the sinking ship fountain with gelato in hand
Take a cab back to the train station – it’s too far to walk
Enjoy this wonderful day in Rome over the course of the day.
The Arch of Constantine
The Colosseum
Eating in the Jewish Ghetto. We were told to have the fried artichoke.
The Pantheon
You can't take many steps before running into more ruins.
Trevi Fountain
I love this picture! Sandy and I were trying to figure out where we were and getting help from others.
The Spanish Steps
Recipe for a day in Rome
Ingredients:
1 Camera
1 Good Map
2 Adventurous Friends
A large dose of a willingness to walk far distances
Then mix together the following in order:
Take the train into Rome
Get on the metro
Visit the Colosseum
Discover that the Basillica of St. Clement is only open at odd hours, so you’ll have to visit another time
Get Lost by the Roman Forums and something else
Ask for directions
Eat at Trattoria Giggetto Al Portico D’Ohavia in the Jewish Ghetto
Go inside the Pantheon
Ask for directions
Trevi Fountain (you must throw a coin over your shoulder in the fountain with your back to it)
Ask for directions
Sit on The Spanish Steps, then by the sinking ship fountain with gelato in hand
Take a cab back to the train station – it’s too far to walk
Enjoy this wonderful day in Rome over the course of the day.
The Arch of Constantine
The Colosseum
Eating in the Jewish Ghetto. We were told to have the fried artichoke.
The Pantheon
You can't take many steps before running into more ruins.
Trevi Fountain
I love this picture! Sandy and I were trying to figure out where we were and getting help from others.
The Spanish Steps
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Vitorchiano, Italy
Michael is the patron saint here. According to legend, Mary was the patron saint, then the plague hit and Mary needed some help. The priest at the time decided to add Michael the Archangel as their other patron saint. Once he did this, the plague ceased!
The Village of Vitorchiano
The door to my place is on the far left.
This is the second gate to get into the older part of the village.
This is the first gate to get into the village from the outside.
Notice how old this sign is by the horse and buggy!
Another beautiful door here.
There are so many different doors!
Friday, June 4, 2010
Santa Maria
“Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.” – Miriam Beard
As I pass through the two gates that lead into the oldest part of Vitochiano, I feel as if I’m being whispered a great secret. Santa Maria, one of the village’s patron saints, guards the first outside gate built in the 1500s for the expanding residents. Straight ahead lies the second gate built in the 13th century with a clock tower now above it that thrusts into the air. A statue of Mary is embedded behind glass under the clock as if she’s rising to the Heavens in prayer over her dear people. These south gates are the only way into Vitorchiano since it’s built on a grey peperino rock peninsula surrounded by a green gorge.
Passing medieval stone houses with doors shaped like entrances to Etruscan tombs I notice cheery red geraniums and verdant plant life overflowing from windows and stair-steps. The village’s main pathway winds in a circle with narrow passages jutting off to overlooks of the gorge. What strikes me is that in the heart of this fortified village is the church devoted to Mary. All life surrounds the church here.
Within three days of my time in Vitorchiano, I have witnessed two religious processions. One devoted to St. Amanzio, whose bones lie for all to see in the church just inside the first city gates, and another procession in honor of Santa Maria. Upon seeing these processions, I felt as if I was peeking into a time where lost traditions, sacred symbols, and devote people were hiding. I was astonished to see intricate flower designs in the village square before St. Amanzio’s procession. The heads of yellow margarits and pedals sunlit pink mums created the circle of a symbolic shield. The procession started at the head of the first gate and followed a path of flower petals down to the square. The band played a dirge as a solemn group followed. First were the men carrying three crucifixes in a row on their backs, then priest carrying a statue of St. Amanzio, with a group of little angels and older children in white behind him, then two lines of adults followed. I was enchanted to witness such an old tradition of religious ceremony.
The next evening another procession shuffled by in the same order, but this time four men carried a statue of Mary at least five feet high on a platform. In the darkness, the adults carried candles with various colors of tissued paper surrounding the glow. This time I decided to follow. As an outsider, I trailed at the end of the line snapping images with my camera that I knew could never truly communicate the feeling of awe and reverence I felt at the moment. The priest sang songs and said prayers in Mary’s honor and the band played an occasional tune. Even though I could not understand the language, I recognized the rhythm of the prayers and the melodies of songs. This made me feel connected to this place and these people. We shared a special language that united us through God’s presence. As we paraded through the small village I noticed a few residents with their heads hanging out windows, too old to walk in the procession now, but could see in their eyes a reflection of their youth from the days they carried on the tradition from centuries before. I also noticed for the first time, the pictures of Mary throughout the village with little ledges with flowers and candles underneath. Although a procession such as this is one I have never seen before, I thought it was a quintessential example of this community’s religious views. After walking through the village’s inner city streets, the group flowed out of the inner gate, through the square and further on to the outer gate. At first I thought we would proceed inside the church, but to my surprise, we continued outside of the city walls. I felt like the procession was out of place among the modern parking lot, vehicles, and police presence. It felt as if the tradition had been exposed or tarnished somehow by letting the world outside the gates see it. The image that has stayed fixed in my mind is of Mary’s statue being carried under the bright lights of a gas station sign. The dazzling white, red, and yellow sign clashed with Mary’s soft blue dress and veil of white...
I'm still working on this....sorry for the abrupt stop, but I need to figure out how I want to finish this.
A jog in Vitorchiano
“To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasantest sensations in the world.” – Freya Stark
My iPod touch opens my eyes to the mamba, dancing me awake. The light filtering through the small window of my bedroom tells me it’s time to get up for a jog. I tell myself it’s 7:00 A.M. in Vitorchiano, Italy, midnight in O’Neill, Nebraska. I can sleep a little longer. But as I snuggle my head deeper into my pillow I think of the bird show outside my window. “My window”, I think with a sleepy grin. This is “my window” for seven days. Like an old friend calling on the other end of telephone, I pick myself up to answer the call. When I walk out of the cave-like bedroom, I open the window to hear birds singing their morning glory song. Swallows swoop circles inches away, then like an Olympic diver fly straight down for the gorge and flap back up again for air. I look to the upper left hand corner of the window to the spider webs gracefully swaying in the sunny breeze. Last evening, I had finally met the creator of this delicate lace: a sturdy spider with long, sassy legs. Upon seeing her I said, “Oh there you are,” and promptly named her Lucy. “She must still be sleeping,” I thought now.
I stay still, watching the birds and listening to the water below until the 7:15 bells chime, urging me to get moving. After getting dressed, I’m ready for my first jog in Vitorchiano. As I walk through the town, people stare at me with curious looks that say, “Who is this woman? She’s not from here. Look at her with an iPod stuck to her ears and keychain wrapped around her wrist. What is the word on her shirt? Creighton? What is that? Hhmmmmmm. Her dark hair and eyes make her look Mediterranean, but we haven’t seen her around here.” Even the cats look at me suspiciously. Soon enough I’m away from their gazes as I jog past the cemetery and onto a country road. I think it’s ironic that I’m listening to Jay-Z and Beyonce sing to me when I could listen to the sounds of nature, but I keep them in my ears to reassure me of home on this foreign land. I like the thought of running through the Italian countryside, but I wonder what could be lurching in the wild underbrush near the trail. Could vipers be waiting in there? Does Italy have bobcats like the one we found dead in a ditch near our farm in Nebraska? What’s this scat on the trail? Please, God, let it be from a wild cat and not something more vicious. Occasionally, I would yell out it triumph over tackling a big hill or just over the pure exhilaration from the fact that I am jogging on this dirt road in the middle of Italy. I’m sure upon hearing my hoops and hollers the poppies flushed a deeper red over frustration that I’d disturb guarded fields.
As I start back towards town, I wonder: How many birds could be sitting in the overhanging trees above? Do they have many bees here? While getting closer to my flat, I think: this jog is much like my adventure to Italy. I have so many questions about this place and so many questions of myself. I did not know what to expect, but I’m chugging through the experience. I’m living the process as I uncover the answers. I’m staying rooted in my home place, but gathering pieces of Italian life. When I unlock my door, I smile when I see my window. It pulls me in, so I can look out over the gorge to the other side of life and wonder what it’s like to live there.
My iPod touch opens my eyes to the mamba, dancing me awake. The light filtering through the small window of my bedroom tells me it’s time to get up for a jog. I tell myself it’s 7:00 A.M. in Vitorchiano, Italy, midnight in O’Neill, Nebraska. I can sleep a little longer. But as I snuggle my head deeper into my pillow I think of the bird show outside my window. “My window”, I think with a sleepy grin. This is “my window” for seven days. Like an old friend calling on the other end of telephone, I pick myself up to answer the call. When I walk out of the cave-like bedroom, I open the window to hear birds singing their morning glory song. Swallows swoop circles inches away, then like an Olympic diver fly straight down for the gorge and flap back up again for air. I look to the upper left hand corner of the window to the spider webs gracefully swaying in the sunny breeze. Last evening, I had finally met the creator of this delicate lace: a sturdy spider with long, sassy legs. Upon seeing her I said, “Oh there you are,” and promptly named her Lucy. “She must still be sleeping,” I thought now.
I stay still, watching the birds and listening to the water below until the 7:15 bells chime, urging me to get moving. After getting dressed, I’m ready for my first jog in Vitorchiano. As I walk through the town, people stare at me with curious looks that say, “Who is this woman? She’s not from here. Look at her with an iPod stuck to her ears and keychain wrapped around her wrist. What is the word on her shirt? Creighton? What is that? Hhmmmmmm. Her dark hair and eyes make her look Mediterranean, but we haven’t seen her around here.” Even the cats look at me suspiciously. Soon enough I’m away from their gazes as I jog past the cemetery and onto a country road. I think it’s ironic that I’m listening to Jay-Z and Beyonce sing to me when I could listen to the sounds of nature, but I keep them in my ears to reassure me of home on this foreign land. I like the thought of running through the Italian countryside, but I wonder what could be lurching in the wild underbrush near the trail. Could vipers be waiting in there? Does Italy have bobcats like the one we found dead in a ditch near our farm in Nebraska? What’s this scat on the trail? Please, God, let it be from a wild cat and not something more vicious. Occasionally, I would yell out it triumph over tackling a big hill or just over the pure exhilaration from the fact that I am jogging on this dirt road in the middle of Italy. I’m sure upon hearing my hoops and hollers the poppies flushed a deeper red over frustration that I’d disturb guarded fields.
As I start back towards town, I wonder: How many birds could be sitting in the overhanging trees above? Do they have many bees here? While getting closer to my flat, I think: this jog is much like my adventure to Italy. I have so many questions about this place and so many questions of myself. I did not know what to expect, but I’m chugging through the experience. I’m living the process as I uncover the answers. I’m staying rooted in my home place, but gathering pieces of Italian life. When I unlock my door, I smile when I see my window. It pulls me in, so I can look out over the gorge to the other side of life and wonder what it’s like to live there.
Villa Lante
“We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open.” ~ Jawaharial Nehru
Sergio took Sandy and I to Villa Lante located in Bagniaia. It is an amazing garden created by/for Cardinal Gembara. Apparently, he really liked to entertain here. The photos will show you what I mean, but to learn more, check out this website:
http://www.gardenvisit.com/garden/villa_lante
Sergio is stuck in a tree!!!
Sergio and I
This is a table...they would stick their feet in the water at the base of the table and their bottles in the middle...good thinking!
Sandy and I
Sergio took Sandy and I to Villa Lante located in Bagniaia. It is an amazing garden created by/for Cardinal Gembara. Apparently, he really liked to entertain here. The photos will show you what I mean, but to learn more, check out this website:
http://www.gardenvisit.com/garden/villa_lante
Sergio is stuck in a tree!!!
Sergio and I
This is a table...they would stick their feet in the water at the base of the table and their bottles in the middle...good thinking!
Sandy and I
Arriving in Vitorchiano
“This sensual yearning for knowledge, this insatiable wanderlust, this long desire.” ~Anatole France
I enjoyed the train ride to Vitorchiano from Florence. It gave me a chance to see the countryside of Tuscany through Umbria and on to the Lazio region where Vitorchiano is located. The poppies are my favorite....
“To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.” ~Bill Bryson
I met Sandy, the other woman taking the writing workshop and my new friend, and Mrs. Simonicini, our driver, at Orte train station. It's about a 20 minute drive to Vitorchiano from the station. Mrs. Simonicini speaks extremely limited English, but Sandy tried to communicate with her. Poor Sandy was tricked at the Rome station because a man told her he could get her a ticket to Orte on a bus. So she gave him 30 euro and he disappeared!
Here are a couple pictures of Vitorchiano from across the gorge. My window is on the right side of the picture.
When I arrived at Vitorchiano, I met Linda and her husband, Sergio. I couldn't say enough good things about them! I felt welcomed and instantly comfortable with them.
This is "my window" in my flat.
Sunday morning, I was able to experience some of what it means to live in the village because they had a "procession". The Catholic processions are a big deal here and several are carried out over the year. The pictures posed here are of the procession in honor of St. Amanzio.
Notice the cat under the table...there are many cats that wander the streets here.
The flower designs are stunning.
I enjoyed the train ride to Vitorchiano from Florence. It gave me a chance to see the countryside of Tuscany through Umbria and on to the Lazio region where Vitorchiano is located. The poppies are my favorite....
“To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.” ~Bill Bryson
I met Sandy, the other woman taking the writing workshop and my new friend, and Mrs. Simonicini, our driver, at Orte train station. It's about a 20 minute drive to Vitorchiano from the station. Mrs. Simonicini speaks extremely limited English, but Sandy tried to communicate with her. Poor Sandy was tricked at the Rome station because a man told her he could get her a ticket to Orte on a bus. So she gave him 30 euro and he disappeared!
Here are a couple pictures of Vitorchiano from across the gorge. My window is on the right side of the picture.
When I arrived at Vitorchiano, I met Linda and her husband, Sergio. I couldn't say enough good things about them! I felt welcomed and instantly comfortable with them.
This is "my window" in my flat.
Sunday morning, I was able to experience some of what it means to live in the village because they had a "procession". The Catholic processions are a big deal here and several are carried out over the year. The pictures posed here are of the procession in honor of St. Amanzio.
Notice the cat under the table...there are many cats that wander the streets here.
The flower designs are stunning.
What does "Place" mean to you? What is Place Conscious Education?
*What does the word "place" mean to you? What does the phrase "place conscious education" mean to you? How have the readings of this week expanded, informed, or changed your thinking about place and place conscious work?
When I began this class, I only had place conscious writing on my mind. I had not had time to really think through what place conscious education or teaching meant. These first readings have helped me to start to make connections with some of my previous work to place conscious education. David Sobel’s article, “Building a Three-Legged Stool of Academic Achievement, Social Capital, and Environmental Quality”, explained how place conscious work can help students connect with their community. As I read this article, I thought about my work when I first began teaching to begin a high ability learner program that included schoolwide enrichment. For about 5-6 weeks 4th-6th grade students were put in “Enrichment Clusters” on Fridays for an 1-1/2. They were put in clusters based on their interests like The Young Author’s Guild, The Technology Cluster, and The Environmental Studies Group just to name a few. The point was that students investigate an interest or a problem in order to create a “product” out of it. Not all clusters connected with the community, but some did through bringing in community speakers like the detective cluster had a police officer come talk to them and the archeology one had a person from Ashfall’s come speak to them. I remember the cluster that studied Laura Ingalls Wilder had an older woman in the community come teach them how to make butter and soaps. That cluster ended with a trip to South Dakota to see where Ingalls Homestead. Another cluster that studied the environment planted trees around the courthouse in O’Neill. The Author’s Guild wrote stories that were bound and distributed to local businesses. I think of some of the social capital that took place during cluster time was just the tip of the place conscious education David Sobel describes, but nonetheless, there were some place conscious things going on for those students. If you want to read more about enrichment clusters, click on the link and go to the Spring 2007 publication.
http://www.nagc.org/index.aspx?id=1498
Sobel states that when doing place conscious education projects should be pursued within “four domains of work: curriculum integration, schoolyard enhancement, community-based education, and school sustainability” (p. 61). I can relate best to the community-based education piece. When I first began teaching, I earned an Americorp Teacher Grant. This money helped me go to school for my masters in gifted education, but in order to get the cash, I did service-learning projects with my students. I also helped the Americorp office at UNL put together a book with service-learning projects done by teachers in Nebraska. One of the coolest examples of things have done was from in Columbus, Nebraska.
http://www.higginsmemorial.com/Default.asp
Look at the credits and you can read a little about the teacher that made this happen. It’s incredible!
A final experience I want to share is a project my friend and colleague, Katie, and I did with our daughters and some of their friends. The girls started a group called the “Digital Divas” in order to enter a contest called Digies held by Apple. The girls wanted to do an original project that would help their community. Katie and I used what Apple calls Challenge Based Learning. http://ali.apple.com/cbl/
The girls decided that not enough people recycle in their hometown, so they came up with solutions for how to get others to become aware of how to recycle here in O’Neill. They created this website http://web.me.com/mrsmorrow/Digital_Divas_Go_Green/Welcome.html We decided to walk in the St. Patrick’s parade and pass out seed packets with a label on them with the web address. It was neat to see these girls in action as they called the local nursery to explain their project to donate the seed packets, they went to interview the people at the recycling center, and they did things on the computer that even I don’t know how to do! The girls won at the Digies AND they got the word out about the importance of recycling.
I suppose thus far, this is what place conscious education means to me because these are some of my experiences with it. Sobel’s article helped me make these connections.
After all this connecting, I started to think about what I can do NOW in my own classroom to spread place conscious education. I was inspired by Sharon’s work that she explained in the article “The Power of Place”. I like how she uses Nebraska authors and the land to inspire students’ reading and writing. I have found myself buying several books by Nebraska authors and about Nebraska over the summer. I really want to work with our science teacher to incorporate some of Loren Eiseley’s writing. I also want to use some of other stories about Nebraska and by Nebraska authors into my curriculum. I think the idea of gathering local histories sounds like something I may want to do, as well. We have a wonderful local historian in O’Neill that I am thinking of calling to see what she thinks we could do to help out the historical society. These are all the ideas floating around inside my head. This article helped me expand my thinking about place conscious education and where I want to take it.
Robert’s article helped me think more about what ‘place’ means. I grew up in O’Neill and went away for college, but came back to teach for seven years. Then I moved to Omaha for a couple of years, then back to O’Neill. I remember when I lived in Omaha, I was in an apartment and was at a new school. My daughter went to the same school I taught at, but I remember telling people I missed that sense of community I felt in O’Neill. My first year in Omaha was difficult because of this. The second year got better because Julia played soccer so I got to know those parents, but there was still something missing when we got home because we didn’t have a neighborhood and that same group of people that Julia went to school with and so on.
When Aaron and I started dating we were both living in Omaha, but both originally from O’Neill. We discussed ‘place’ a lot as we made decisions about our life together. Aaron was debating between med school and going ‘home’ to farm with his dad. I won’t go into the details (my post is already getting far too long!), but we both wanted to have a place where we could raise Julia and hopefully more kids. I guess the only way I can formulate into words what O’Neill is like for me is a hug. I have a community surrounding me and my family that is cozy and I like that. When I was in Omaha, I felt like I had no place. I was disjointed and didn’t know where Julia and I belonged. The question posed is: What does the word ‘place’ mean to you? I suppose I started to define it on my blog where I wrote about my places: Nebraska, O’Neill, & Home. I think the word place to me means ‘where you belong’.
When I began this class, I only had place conscious writing on my mind. I had not had time to really think through what place conscious education or teaching meant. These first readings have helped me to start to make connections with some of my previous work to place conscious education. David Sobel’s article, “Building a Three-Legged Stool of Academic Achievement, Social Capital, and Environmental Quality”, explained how place conscious work can help students connect with their community. As I read this article, I thought about my work when I first began teaching to begin a high ability learner program that included schoolwide enrichment. For about 5-6 weeks 4th-6th grade students were put in “Enrichment Clusters” on Fridays for an 1-1/2. They were put in clusters based on their interests like The Young Author’s Guild, The Technology Cluster, and The Environmental Studies Group just to name a few. The point was that students investigate an interest or a problem in order to create a “product” out of it. Not all clusters connected with the community, but some did through bringing in community speakers like the detective cluster had a police officer come talk to them and the archeology one had a person from Ashfall’s come speak to them. I remember the cluster that studied Laura Ingalls Wilder had an older woman in the community come teach them how to make butter and soaps. That cluster ended with a trip to South Dakota to see where Ingalls Homestead. Another cluster that studied the environment planted trees around the courthouse in O’Neill. The Author’s Guild wrote stories that were bound and distributed to local businesses. I think of some of the social capital that took place during cluster time was just the tip of the place conscious education David Sobel describes, but nonetheless, there were some place conscious things going on for those students. If you want to read more about enrichment clusters, click on the link and go to the Spring 2007 publication.
http://www.nagc.org/index.aspx?id=1498
Sobel states that when doing place conscious education projects should be pursued within “four domains of work: curriculum integration, schoolyard enhancement, community-based education, and school sustainability” (p. 61). I can relate best to the community-based education piece. When I first began teaching, I earned an Americorp Teacher Grant. This money helped me go to school for my masters in gifted education, but in order to get the cash, I did service-learning projects with my students. I also helped the Americorp office at UNL put together a book with service-learning projects done by teachers in Nebraska. One of the coolest examples of things have done was from in Columbus, Nebraska.
http://www.higginsmemorial.com/Default.asp
Look at the credits and you can read a little about the teacher that made this happen. It’s incredible!
A final experience I want to share is a project my friend and colleague, Katie, and I did with our daughters and some of their friends. The girls started a group called the “Digital Divas” in order to enter a contest called Digies held by Apple. The girls wanted to do an original project that would help their community. Katie and I used what Apple calls Challenge Based Learning. http://ali.apple.com/cbl/
The girls decided that not enough people recycle in their hometown, so they came up with solutions for how to get others to become aware of how to recycle here in O’Neill. They created this website http://web.me.com/mrsmorrow/Digital_Divas_Go_Green/Welcome.html We decided to walk in the St. Patrick’s parade and pass out seed packets with a label on them with the web address. It was neat to see these girls in action as they called the local nursery to explain their project to donate the seed packets, they went to interview the people at the recycling center, and they did things on the computer that even I don’t know how to do! The girls won at the Digies AND they got the word out about the importance of recycling.
I suppose thus far, this is what place conscious education means to me because these are some of my experiences with it. Sobel’s article helped me make these connections.
After all this connecting, I started to think about what I can do NOW in my own classroom to spread place conscious education. I was inspired by Sharon’s work that she explained in the article “The Power of Place”. I like how she uses Nebraska authors and the land to inspire students’ reading and writing. I have found myself buying several books by Nebraska authors and about Nebraska over the summer. I really want to work with our science teacher to incorporate some of Loren Eiseley’s writing. I also want to use some of other stories about Nebraska and by Nebraska authors into my curriculum. I think the idea of gathering local histories sounds like something I may want to do, as well. We have a wonderful local historian in O’Neill that I am thinking of calling to see what she thinks we could do to help out the historical society. These are all the ideas floating around inside my head. This article helped me expand my thinking about place conscious education and where I want to take it.
Robert’s article helped me think more about what ‘place’ means. I grew up in O’Neill and went away for college, but came back to teach for seven years. Then I moved to Omaha for a couple of years, then back to O’Neill. I remember when I lived in Omaha, I was in an apartment and was at a new school. My daughter went to the same school I taught at, but I remember telling people I missed that sense of community I felt in O’Neill. My first year in Omaha was difficult because of this. The second year got better because Julia played soccer so I got to know those parents, but there was still something missing when we got home because we didn’t have a neighborhood and that same group of people that Julia went to school with and so on.
When Aaron and I started dating we were both living in Omaha, but both originally from O’Neill. We discussed ‘place’ a lot as we made decisions about our life together. Aaron was debating between med school and going ‘home’ to farm with his dad. I won’t go into the details (my post is already getting far too long!), but we both wanted to have a place where we could raise Julia and hopefully more kids. I guess the only way I can formulate into words what O’Neill is like for me is a hug. I have a community surrounding me and my family that is cozy and I like that. When I was in Omaha, I felt like I had no place. I was disjointed and didn’t know where Julia and I belonged. The question posed is: What does the word ‘place’ mean to you? I suppose I started to define it on my blog where I wrote about my places: Nebraska, O’Neill, & Home. I think the word place to me means ‘where you belong’.
Cinque Terre
“Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.” ~ Maya Angelou
Cinque Terre is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. First, we took a bus to La Spezia, then I got on a boat to visit Portovenere, Monterosso and Vernazza.
Giorgio Armani's yacht!
Portovenere
I had lunch with a couple from California and the tour guide. I found it interesting to listen to their stories about where they came from. I thought about the stories people tell when they first meet people and what's most important to them that others know.
Monterosso
Vernazza: I saw a lot of women hanging out of windows watching the people here in Italy.
I also saw a lot of laundry hanging, too!
Cinque Terre is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. First, we took a bus to La Spezia, then I got on a boat to visit Portovenere, Monterosso and Vernazza.
Giorgio Armani's yacht!
Portovenere
I had lunch with a couple from California and the tour guide. I found it interesting to listen to their stories about where they came from. I thought about the stories people tell when they first meet people and what's most important to them that others know.
Monterosso
Vernazza: I saw a lot of women hanging out of windows watching the people here in Italy.
I also saw a lot of laundry hanging, too!
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