A book is like a garden carried in your pocket. (Chinese Proverb) January in Brazil means lots of rain and children on vacation fretting about not being able to play outside. At least, when I was a child that’s the way it was. I remember imaginative stories told to keep me entertained, such as the sky being washed and all the water cascading down as the rain. But the fondest memory was when my father used to tell me: “look at the rain falling…now look closely to all the beautiful flowers and plants in the garden…be very quiet and listen to them. They’re all happy, smiling and singing songs thanking the rain – it gives them life and makes them more beautiful than they already are. Now, get yourself a book and just like the rain, give the stories life and listen to all the beautiful sounds. Then come and tell me all about it!” So, there I was in the garden trying to make the stories come alive with my imagination. Reading out loud, talking to flowers and birds. Not only that, but as I read, I used to add notes in the margins, writing other stories or messages in loose papers, placing them in the middle of the books. Then, returning to my father, telling him the new stories – the books I gave life to with my imagination and my contributions. My books were alive! Many times after my Dad passed away, I used to return to those books, trying to find the magic he taught me: watch and listen to all the images and sounds of the world. To my surprise, not only all the memories came back, but the notes too! What a joy to see what I wrote as a child so many years ago. I can say all my books have life – even the ones I bought later in my life, the ones I still buy today. I give them life! Learning to see all the beauties of life, making stories come alive, sharing with others and adding your precious part is something I always bring to my classes. My students are all the living things in the garden waiting to be watered, so that they can come alive, blossom and write their own stories in their own way. So, as we start a new year, give some time and interest as fertilizer and sprinkle it among your students. Their stories will come to life and flourish. Where do your stories come to life? P.S.: I’m writing this story in a lovely warm summer afternoon in January in Brazil, sitting on a swing in the porch, facing my Dad’s inspirational garden…and I still can see all the stories gently nestling and growing. This article originally appeared as a guest post on Teaching Village and is licensed under a Creative Commons, Attribution-Non Commercial, No Derivatives 3.0 License. Republished here with permission from Teaching Village.
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It is the end of another year and now I see people analysing the year, data and numbers comparing 2013 to years gone by with New Year resolutions forming in minds. That's fine. I've also done it all my life, with the feeling that as the New Year begins, I can begin changing my life too, and make all my dreams come true. Until today, December 27th...
I got up earlier than usual, about 5.15 am and as it was so hot, I went to my garden to see the new day dawning. It was so peaceful. Quieter than usual. There was just a bird I do not know singing an incredibly different song. I immediately looked in front of me and saw an indescribable blue sky with touches of gold, still not certain if it was night or day. The moon and the stars were there too. Was it night or day? Day or night? As I looked east and saw the first rays of light, and at the same time looked up and saw the moon and the stars, I thought: There is neither night nor day, no end nor beginning, not even time… We are made of moments we share, here and now, and each one is special because they belong to a journey that never begins and will never end: the stories of our lives. So, from now on, for me, years are just numbers. Months are just parts of the years. Nights and days are the same: little moments of immeasurable beauty that I share with everyone and everything around me. Be it a beautiful singing bird or friends and family. On December 31st, I won't say Happy New Year anymore. Instead, I will say: Welcome to your journey. Make it a happy one. "You can't use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have." Maya Angelou From the day we are born, many people have an impact in our lives. They affect us, influencing our behavior and choices as we journey through our existence. My passion for flowers, gardening, reading and making up stories came from two important people in my life: my granddad (my mom’s dad) and my dad – my biggest influences. I remember spending a lot of time with my granddad, in his house or in his country cottage, called “Cottage of Roses” and learning how to take care of his roses and even to grow new species by breeding them. Always with a rag doll in my hands, and as curious as I could be, I would quietly observe him only to make my footprints on his beautiful flower beds, literally talking to all the flowers, plants and to even my little doll, making up the most incredible stories. I especially loved his garden at his house though, with the red-tiled paths, where I would spend hours sitting near the moss that covered the floor, and the mushrooms – how much they fascinated me! I would look at the rays of light through the plants shining on the varied insects and imagine there lived tiny little people too, and the mushrooms were their houses. Every afternoon spent there, gave life to a new story, generally the continuation of the previous ones. Each ray of light, or drops of rain gave me inspiration to create more and more stories. All I need was a spark to ignite the fire of creativity. Reformulated and adapted to other realities, some of these stories are often brought to my classes - a spark to ignite students’ creativity. Developed into activities in given moments of some classes and by giving students room to grow in their own ways and allowing them to shine, the most amazing and creative productions came to life. Most of the time, this is all our students need: something or someone to ignite a spark of their curiosity and help them develop their own creativity. The more I teach and inspire students, the more I am inspired by them to learn - my students become my teachers and ignite the spark I need to develop myself, both professionally and personally. A beautiful circle of curiosity leading to inspiration and creativity, lighting our ways in which we can shape our dreams and make them come true. The more we share, the more it comes back to us. Now, if I could start this story again, I would write: the biggest influences in my life were my granddad and dad, and ALL my students through all these years. All of you have touched my soul and changed me forever. As 2012 comes to an end, I look back at the weft of my life. So many interwoven threads, closely woven... invisible threads tracing the paths in the backstage. In each thread, multiple colored points rebuild the image of so many comings and goings! There were so many deeds, actions, so many emotions that would be impossible to review all the situations I have been through. From some moments, I kept the sound; from others, the scent, the color and the taste. The complete image, the exact scene never repeats itself… they are only fragments in my memory, but the power of each moment is already woven in my being. So many times I got lost in the tangle of so many paths, in the labyrinth of the unknown, in the disillusions and disagreements. I lost hope, I lost friends, I lost myself. Suddenly, there came the Sun to brighten up my garden, color the flowers, strengthen the roots and grow new branches in each tree. Little by little, I saw my reflection in each leaf, each petal, each color and ended up finding my whole self again. I look back at my garden and see that the result of so many comings and goings was the finding of my own pattern, strong, decisive, full of hope to face life beyond the wings of the backstage. In 2013, may we all start the embroidery of other gardens, outline other patterns and connect threads to a woven life of fondness, kindness, love, peace, cooperation and achievements. "What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of other."
(Pericles) |
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