tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16008382188433041242024-02-19T08:45:55.311-08:00Teacher as StudentOakbrook Teacherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095256139217873877noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1600838218843304124.post-20422635321981440852010-03-30T16:32:00.000-07:002010-04-03T16:02:36.638-07:00WORD DANCER<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPsb0rKC1nM-IphDfYVhdzI0Q5Rkd7K24lOJn1PsDwQxGTgiX7yGSd9-07r1VYztpa45o2HFl1vQIZh4Q87Y7gbbbk_loGMnwQ9vdch7fbghtwNqDMBpDDfcfj290oB4hIexSS_Yw9NfYH/s1600/tree+and+bird_jpg+trans.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPsb0rKC1nM-IphDfYVhdzI0Q5Rkd7K24lOJn1PsDwQxGTgiX7yGSd9-07r1VYztpa45o2HFl1vQIZh4Q87Y7gbbbk_loGMnwQ9vdch7fbghtwNqDMBpDDfcfj290oB4hIexSS_Yw9NfYH/s400/tree+and+bird_jpg+trans.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454576743709362706" /></a><br /><strong>Chapter 1</strong><br /><br /><strong>Three Stanzas and a Chorus</strong><br /><br />Violet exhaled and adjusted her red-framed glasses on her nose. Miss Mason handed her a test sheet. Yesterday, this same teacher had called the examination easy. Well, maybe! Violet, however, remained composed. After all, she was a Word-Dancer.<br /><br /><strong>****************************</strong><br /><br />Later leaving school, Violet followed the forest path toward home. Breaking autumn’s cool silence, were her feet, large enough to rustle fallen pine needles, but delicate enough to leave small twigs unharmed. Suddenly, disturbing her musing, an acorn tumbled from an overhanging withered oak.<br /><br />"My, how the world can dent a girl’s head quite unexpectedly!" she thought.<br /><br />Violet, the occasional pragmatist, then realized that being lost in reverie could perhaps result in permanent loss of further thoughts. Falling acorns may not be the only object aiming to make an impression on her skull. Reality perhaps deemed her existence defenseless.<br /><br />Alas, Violet had to contend with a maiden’s senses continually bombarding her. Autumn was a perfect time to concentrate on the rich poetry of life, not the frightful moments. Oh, the drippy watercolors in the misty mornings, the pungent musk in afternoon, the orange-blossom tasty aroma of the tea olives at her doorstep, and the chirpy chatty busyness of preparing for winter!<br /><br />What is a girl like Violet to do? She could only leap in spontaneous delight, forgetting the confines of fear.<br /><br />Violet, for the moment, fully embraced drippy, misty, pungent, tasty – and especially chirpy.<br /><br /><strong>******************************************************************</strong><br /><br />Samuel finished arranging his garden-grown gourds and pumpkins on a pyramid of three small hay bales. Satisfied with his autumn surprise for Violet, he looked up to see her returning home. Would she be excited? Of course! His little girl delighted in the change of seasons’ inventive show.<br /><br />Violet gave him an embrace immediately. Then she and her papa stood back; they looked into each other’s eyes and then gazed back at Papa’s display. Pale green gourds with goose necks formed the heads on stacked orange pumpkins, resulting in a variety of playful creatures. Papa had left the faces of the menagerie for Violet’s creative touch. She would draw the expressions; Papa would carve them; and Mama would have inserted her handmade candles with scents she called "Apple and Spice Strudel." "Autumn Whispers," "Pumpkin Soufflé," and "Mama’s Cinnamon Buns."<br /><br />In their shared memories of Mama, they saw a garden. In this nurturing place, Cristen would have gathered three cups each of rosemary, peppermint, and exhausted rose blossoms, just as the early morning sun dried the dew from petals and leaves. This harvest she would prepare by removing any stem or leaves from the roses, stripping the leaves of the peppermint, and saving all of the rosemary. Keeping these treasures separated, Cristen would separate one at a time in a clean mortar to crush the materials until their natural oils appeared. She then would add each to its individual jar of almond oil, seal the aromatic treasures, shake them vigorously, and place all on her sunny kitchen window sill. Later these little jars would be strained and sold as essential oils at the woodland market. For that moment, Cristen would prepare potpourri sachets with her various combinations of dried herbs and flower petals, preserved fragrances of the summer months: lavender, roses, sweet basil, lemon verbena, sweet marjoram, scented geranium, rosemary, thyme and mint. In combination with whole cloves, cinnamon, or ginger bought at the market, these herbs and flowers in unique combinations created a myriad of intoxicating perfumes.<br /><br />Most woodlanders would agree: Mama had been another familial reason their home radiated a richness of ingenuity and skill. Yes, Cristen - Samuel's beloved wife and Violet's precious mother - still radiated a loving richness within their hearts and out into the rest of their known world.<br /><br />Papa left Violet to consider the pumpkins' faces; he went back to his work as a fence contractor. Samuel met the needs in a community that liked to mark their territories. In fact, Samuel often had wondered if the word territory was derived from terror; however, the demand for boundary markers gave him a comfortable living. He and Violet lived in a pleasant house. Violet was able to attend a wonderful school.<br /><br />As a fence contractor, Samuel was primarily an architect: he could not only design elaborate and sturdy fences but also produce them with artistic effects. Many woodlanders called his fences ingenious, yet others considered them peculiar. The truth was that his creations were both. The result was that no imitations existed.<br /><br />An original himself, Samuel encouraged Violet, his only child, to be an original, too. For that reason, when Violet asked to use his fences for her homework writing exercises, he never even cringed. From the time she learned to spell and share her thoughts, he provided the paint, brushes, and lumber. In fact, whenever she was not in school, Samuel agreed that Violet come with him as he assembled his masterpieces board by board. Violet would imagine what each panel would want to say to a passerby. His work portfolio, therefore, read like a journal of father-daughter collaborations that had grown through years together. What a content man Papa was as a father!<br /><br /><strong>******************************************************************</strong><br /><br />Why would this woodland community really need fences? Were they preventing something from entering? Or something from leaving? Samuel knew even the best fences could not keep out what was determined to be either inside or outside. For him, therefore, these community barriers were symbols of privacy, pride, separation, fear or their multifarious combinations. If, however, anyone looked closely, he could see several points of entry and escape. Samuel had innately designed them for that purpose, and he had shown Violet those portals as the duo worked. Whether he and Violet were out or in would be individual decisions and depended upon one another's perspective.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8fe6DKsYt17FG1dfOio-gPTJaAg13ZQeWHtIViMxhG0-97VAmCdK6bDGRp8SFllYWCwchFaulmhT0kTPUQovNGl9i6K_cOLwBxWsqRwiq67dec7wdmDPTzW7bZWfOYkMiIN0JlprhkmS/s1600/fence+1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8fe6DKsYt17FG1dfOio-gPTJaAg13ZQeWHtIViMxhG0-97VAmCdK6bDGRp8SFllYWCwchFaulmhT0kTPUQovNGl9i6K_cOLwBxWsqRwiq67dec7wdmDPTzW7bZWfOYkMiIN0JlprhkmS/s400/fence+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454578880057892274" /></a><em>The whole earth smiles. A south wind blows softly. </em><br /><br /><strong>Chapter 2: Enter Claws</strong><br /><br />As autumn rolled into an early winter, community barriers represented their hopes to discourage the occasional bobcat, an adaptable predator roaming their woodlands nightly in search of rabbit, but settling for anything from insects to mice to squirrels. Solitary and territorial, this cat sometimes inhabited their woodland from winter to spring, delighting in plentiful prey, dense cover for hunting and escape, and convenient dens. Woodlanders recognized immediately the first signs of his arrival, tracks ranging in size from one to three inches. The trees, meanwhile, revealed the dreaded mark of the claws.<br /><br />Many tales had passed down to the woodlanders about the bobcat. Old storytellers said that at one time the bobcat was outwitted by a rabbit, which gave reason for the bobcat's spots. Apparently, after trapping the rabbit in a tree, the bobcat built a fire at the suggestion of the rabbit. When the embers scattered on the bobcat's fur, he was left with the singed dark brown spots as a marking of his gullibility.<br /><br />Woodlanders, however, never wished to test the gullibility premise. Nocturnal wanderings were risky for woodlanders if bobcat wished an easy prey. Yes, the sign of the claws had now materialized, and woodlanders appeared always in forward motion during daylight hours, leaving nothing for wintry night-time but cozy household customs.<br /><br />Not considering bobcat, rabbit, or mice on her path, Violet walked briskly another morning to school, Ahead she saw the boys in her class walking on the tops of Farmer Addison’s fence rails, practicing their comic moves, delaying any forward progress toward the day’s instruction.<br /><br />Violet determined to ignore them as she passed. Later in class would be company enough when everyone suffered through their numerous antics to hinder patient Miss Mason’s creative teaching methods. Some days all to be accomplished were disciplinary dealings leading to shortened reading discussions, then to repetitive desk work.<br /><br />“Lit-tle Vi-o-let!” shrieked Nate, “Are you sightless, as well as speechless?”<br /><br />“No, just disinterested!” she answered.<br /><br />"Just like being in class," she said to herself quietly. But in her head, thinking echoed, "Amid this gorgeous purple morn, boys are disturbing the serenity while risking their lives for mere amusement; each is a menace, nuisance, hazard."<br /><br />Her mind immediately embarked on new amusements – peril, danger, jeopardy, trouble, threat, irritation, pest, annoyance, bother, aggravation, exasperation, vexation, pain in the neck, bane of one’s existence. Her faint smile puzzled her classmates; however, when she laughed aloud, they knew that they had won her over with their acrobatics. In fact, the boys had done that exactly. Their energy was inspiring, however distracting. Distraction, interruption, change, diversion, entertainment, intermission, interlude – perhaps wisdom could come from tottering on the rails.<br /><br /><strong>******************************************************************</strong>Oakbrook Teacherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095256139217873877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1600838218843304124.post-91629988342842256292010-03-30T15:23:00.000-07:002010-03-30T16:27:09.797-07:00Cooking with Joy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORbqMJApFNG5dSNU_8TjGmdCEj1qW_6u5Oj_dRP-2XE4jUOEQyeB36TfT15hRbQrnFx7WSjPsD_RcmyIOeyYa0P1TvUcuBtbfDm4I2zcxQMhlhJNOpYIw1nNItil0084Q2qM0bCXBnfsg/s1600/cooking+2+097.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORbqMJApFNG5dSNU_8TjGmdCEj1qW_6u5Oj_dRP-2XE4jUOEQyeB36TfT15hRbQrnFx7WSjPsD_RcmyIOeyYa0P1TvUcuBtbfDm4I2zcxQMhlhJNOpYIw1nNItil0084Q2qM0bCXBnfsg/s400/cooking+2+097.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454557364897798050" /></a><br />When our family arrived for a long-awaited Spring Break at our timeshare in Orlando, my husband brought out a beautiful golden gift bag as our hospitality gift. Inside was a single little cookbook entitled <em>Lowfat Cooking</em>. I laughed aloud because I had just spent the previous weekdays in cooking classes that culminated with our decorating our own wedding cakes. The first day had been cooking fun appetizers, the second day "the hearty breakfast," the third day fried chicken and fixings, and the fourth day individual pizzas. I have not eaten so happily in five consecutive days for perhaps forty years - maybe more!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmyx5eyRMp1m0agJMwbF7upnX2q20dfTtGGy-1y1OlDGOdfY6hBWbuY2_ldxuXvOIqWPri3K-8_zN6u1sHQpMaCcUcMGH-FLU3xJlNNOcpJyGHuO7RR85SBtWvrMMMx-vVE90yLa0xLTvV/s1600/Cooking+042.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmyx5eyRMp1m0agJMwbF7upnX2q20dfTtGGy-1y1OlDGOdfY6hBWbuY2_ldxuXvOIqWPri3K-8_zN6u1sHQpMaCcUcMGH-FLU3xJlNNOcpJyGHuO7RR85SBtWvrMMMx-vVE90yLa0xLTvV/s400/Cooking+042.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454566505416352466" /></a> "Do not worry about an occasional indulgence on a high calorie and/or high fat food; focus instead on improving daily eating habits." from <em>Lowfat Cooking</em><br /><br />This year during the school's Spring Intensive Week, I luckily had been assigned to "Cooking with Joy," a course in cooking basics for those in Upper School. Many students were tenth or twelfth graders I now teach. What fun to share learning (and eating) with them, as well with other students I came to know also. Joy, of course, was our instructor, and JOY was also what we experienced in her complete sharing of her talents and in her gracious hospitality. I was so impressed with the organization of activities and each student's confidence in trying new skills.Oakbrook Teacherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095256139217873877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1600838218843304124.post-50980299962465044062010-03-19T16:54:00.000-07:002010-03-30T16:29:48.702-07:00Eighth Grade Odyssey Tour Projects<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravura/sets/72157623653446972/show/"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravura/sets/72157623653446972/show/"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglctWQtx_DDgwO8Lkpbvg-DsjNFMg1FrM8dbYLaQP0LF9NM2g8YO2PEOKOsRKXJHM3bXmWkQmklqUKK1CfSRCi7xammM2fPXOg1uANZWDRpBK_er7N7V0vSgMtITPlOL9XugvBwyw41BxI/s1600-h/Untitled-1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450497986568046754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglctWQtx_DDgwO8Lkpbvg-DsjNFMg1FrM8dbYLaQP0LF9NM2g8YO2PEOKOsRKXJHM3bXmWkQmklqUKK1CfSRCi7xammM2fPXOg1uANZWDRpBK_er7N7V0vSgMtITPlOL9XugvBwyw41BxI/s400/Untitled-1.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div></a> </a> As we study Homer’s <em>Odyssey</em> as a class, each student will plan an individual odyssey. Here is how the project will work. I will give each student a budget of $5,000. Using this booklet with my “Odyssey Educational Tours,” everyone must select one of the tours presented. Transportation, accommodations, most meals, and all tour and sightseeing fees are included in the price of the tour selection. Students will write me pretend traveler’s checks for their tours. The money remaining from the $5,000 after each pays for a tour can be used for additional meals and snacks, emergency needs, postcards, stamps, souvenirs, gifts, etc.<br /><br /><br />Each student will provide me the following: <br />* A weather forecast corresponding to the day’s destination city/area<br />* A list of what will be packed in one medium-size suitcase plus one carry-on <br />* A list of money exchanged for purchases (with any fees applied) - optional<br />* A budget log with all personal expenses while traveling (Remember lunches)<br />* A journal of daily “creative writing” travel experiences/sightseeing events<br />* Postcards from favorite visits (at least three total during the entire odyssey)<br />* A copy of a “pretend passport” with pretend stamps received from countries<br />* A friendly letter to someone in the United States about your trip<br />* A presentation of the student odyssey (Show-and-Present or PowerPoint).<br />* A travel hardcopy or digital “scrapbook” of above requirements, with several pretend photos, drawings, and “souvenirs” collected along the way<br /><br />As the Odyssey Tour Guide, I will teach students research techniques, provide budgeting lessons, and design and produce templates for traveler’s checks, postcards, stamps, journals, budget logs, passports, and scrapbooking ideas. Occasionally I will present them with a travel challenge to be considered while away. Decision-making about these challenges will be recorded in daily journals.<br /><br />If parents and teachers have any travel resources, adventures and skills to share, can you advise us how to be better travelers and learners? If you like, contact me to schedule a class time for presentation. We meet 1st and 7th periods daily.<br /><br />Everyone, please work hard on this project to involve language arts, literature, math, history, economics, geography, ecology, art, music, and foreign languages. See the skills list that we will practice on page 15 of this brochure. Have a fun, learning time with this adventure! Do not let there be hardships in anyway—expense, stress, worry. I am open to needs and concerns, and I will be flexible as needed, except with deadlines. Time management is an important component.<br /><br />Kindest regards, Jenifer Steller, Eighth Grade English TeacherOakbrook Teacherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095256139217873877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1600838218843304124.post-86968534114518767132009-10-19T20:28:00.000-07:002009-10-24T19:10:44.779-07:00I Love a Good Setting, Part 5<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJLXLenobBIVN_HxaHanLHUhNQKndjp9d74Qkwuqe4BsPUc6ltjM9VS1Du6OPojf-hoRCt9ogsyXfKE0ZXZFj9vWY_0HeF7FA65P6-21HfplZ2ZXup49dRAZpzXUKVzj2LGJRmkHlWQZmV/s1600-h/West+Coast+10.09+144.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394520522011994754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJLXLenobBIVN_HxaHanLHUhNQKndjp9d74Qkwuqe4BsPUc6ltjM9VS1Du6OPojf-hoRCt9ogsyXfKE0ZXZFj9vWY_0HeF7FA65P6-21HfplZ2ZXup49dRAZpzXUKVzj2LGJRmkHlWQZmV/s320/West+Coast+10.09+144.JPG" border="0" /></a>My husband and I had a great trip last week - one planned over a year ago. The first photos include the Pacific Coast Highway, ending in San Francisco. This slideshow is in combination with a previous trip: along the Pacific Coast Highway, Monterey, Carmel, 17-Mile Drive, and San Francisco: Click on <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravura/sets/72157621449109657/show/">SLIDESHOW</a> (60 photos)<br /><br />Second is last week's trip: Sonoma, Napa Valley, and North Coast to Mendocino. Click on <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravura/sets/72157622483447571/show/">SLIDESHOW</a> (63 photos of Sonoma and Napa) and <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravura/sets/72157622482574175/show/">SLIDESHOW</a> (35 photos of Mendocino and northcoast)<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#663366;">Finally is our pilgrimage</span></strong> - five years of following El Camino Real, the Royal Road, in California. U.S. Highway 101 follows the approximate route of the original foot and wagon path that connected the twenty-one Spanish missions of coastal California from San Diego to Sonoma. We were able to visit the last three missions on our recent trip.<br /><br />This, of course, is a time commitment for you to watch these three portions. If you have a chance, maybe you will enjoy them some day. However, for friends and family who have a great passion for worship icons, cemetery history, and architecture made for Christian fellowship, this is it!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravura/sets/72157617866045098/show/">SLIDESHOW 1</a> (222 photos); <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravura/sets/72157621162730355/show/">SLIDESHOW 2</a> (184 photos); <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravura/sets/72157621223702987/show/">SLIDESHOW 3</a> (160 photos)Oakbrook Teacherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095256139217873877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1600838218843304124.post-24022243910734667082009-09-20T14:21:00.000-07:002009-09-20T15:03:49.839-07:00I Love a Good Setting , Part 4<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravura/sets/72157607563945933/show/"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383670886317056866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQceCu2D2iS3pRGto0QOu8DzP7WaXX2o6HeOTIyHqMEtahxMF3WpKBNdUSIcy6H0_GVaz9HXRszIX87CZbmKKFD3C6a1_1LW4kHJpdzVODVqrEwq2IT6cBRf6DSIK-oMWI_x5Ovn_yuKPr/s320/Spooky+Town.jpg" border="0" /></a> As we watch summer days pass this week into the lushness of autumn, I look forward to cooler weather and the changing colors against the dark blue sky. At school, this change also means we have passed through America's beginnings in literature - Native American wisdom; early settlers' diaries, journals, songs, poems, and sermons; and Benjamin Franklin's moral perfection outline in his autobiography.<br /><div><div></div><br /><div><div></div><div>Now we welcome America's Literary Nationalism (1800 to 1840), influenced by the Romantic Movement and the youthful optimism of a new nation. We discover native themes and American locales. We await the storytelling genius of both Washington Irving and Edgar Allan Poe. </div><br /><div></div><div>Our autumnal setting, here and there, is hence perfect for a rich American harvest. Now is the time for a look into the past and present at the place of the psychological narrative - our "ghost" stories - in the American literary tradition.</div></div></div>Oakbrook Teacherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095256139217873877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1600838218843304124.post-14088794474925535632009-09-05T11:01:00.000-07:002009-09-09T17:54:35.268-07:00I Love a Good Setting, Part 3<a href="http://www.jenifersteller.com/"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 156px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 141px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378048811718336226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji0UzYyIieIG1dP075O6cxoL4fFJf3eodQ7iY5rYQLIPK0rdgsD1zPUdCTYnjT5lA7Zec37lnkkpFd_Ogl9AaAeLDhm4c0sOqbogk1k1wMzJgUc0hDeHEyy3j1c15EgDhyphenhyphen-oBUbXDhbIfS/s320/English+Garden.jpg" /></a> <div><a href="http://www.jenifersteller.com/"><span style="color:#333399;"><strong>www.JeniferSteller.com</strong></span></a> is my new site that has the capability to import and organize my many interests - teaching, writing, creating, crafting, collecting, on-line sales, photography and web building. So far, I have limited theme settings from which to choose, but I like the web set-up and the ease of linking to my four Etsy shops, Flickr, and Blogspot. Take a look and spread the word. Visit just for fun. Shop if you like. But, if you can't stop for long, just wave.</div>Oakbrook Teacherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095256139217873877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1600838218843304124.post-12808093326045177212009-08-30T17:41:00.000-07:002009-08-30T18:27:56.396-07:00I Love a Good Setting, Part 2<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/25802184@N04/sets/72157604898157071/show/"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375933289079721330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 329px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 229px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnBKz_I9QSFDFF62t1d_b6eYq2E9Lr9YlBZ6Q1z1rX0OjEwBzGJbSTv4zJ0aMrYMcMJJQupF125_d2a81UeA4aZai9NZXRILEFZyPhyphenhyphen48sXUYxqk8y1zI4rpZJHfdOC9b-kxCaXVXYA6Gh/s320/Little+Town+fav.jpg" border="0" /></a>We now travel from Storybook Land in Disneyland to Little Town, conveniently located at my house. Actually, Little Town is the creation of my husband Bill who likes miniatures and settings, too. Combine this interest with his love for trains and the result is the best little town setting anywhere.<br /><br />Take a personal tour of Little Town by clicking on the image. Keep in touch because Bill is constructing a section devoted to the County Fair, coming in the fall.Oakbrook Teacherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095256139217873877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1600838218843304124.post-30336445701013751252009-08-23T15:43:00.000-07:002009-08-30T18:38:43.655-07:00I Love a Good Setting, Part 1<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravura/sets/72157621018088051/show/"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373295789052117426" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJmbtUeN2sXroYJpx98cZPlYAZo6Z8inxfQQvWVEYUZSKWnTAJe0B_l5a_NUkaWu2p6QV8GYcaePkcpxQkfdeci-NPcRpJphZ46ci1CDl7QOAwXuz_MHYI2kbUSrfqsBLsHvaCguUr6q3H/s320/Setting.jpg" border="0" /></a>If you click on the image here of Pinocchio’s village, you will discover my favorite Disneyland setting - <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravura/sets/72157621018088051/show/">Storybook Land</a>.<br /><div></div><div> </div><div>You cannot imagine how many times I have ridden Casey Junior Railroad and the Disney canal boats in the last four years so that I can photograph every angle and tiny space. I had, however, never seen the Big Bad Wolf's lair until I saw my daughter Carlon's photos. I suppose there is much to discover in the settings of stories if you study them more closely. </div><br /><div></div><div>Can you name the stories represented in the settings here?</div><div></div><br /><div>HINT: “Storybook Land, inside Fantasyland, is one of Disneyland's finest examples of the Disney magic in artistry and the creation of unique and entertaining attractions. A kingdom in miniature, Storybook Land presents life-like re-creations of villages, castles, houses and other buildings from the pages of fabled stories-scene after scene of painstakingly detailed settings. If you've ever wanted to actually see from close up Gepetto's Village high in the snow covered Alps, Kensington Gardens from the story of Peter Pan, the straw, stick and brick houses of the Three Little Pigs and the Crazy Quilt Country from Wynken, Blinken and Nod, they're all there-along with many more-in Storybook Land. Gaily painted, picturesque European canal boats take visitors through the mouth of Monstro the Whale into this wonderful world” — <em>Disneyland Holiday Magazine</em>, Spring 1958 </div>Oakbrook Teacherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095256139217873877noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1600838218843304124.post-79933377330717911502009-08-15T22:50:00.000-07:002009-09-03T16:36:25.982-07:00Happy 50th Birthday, Barbie!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnOpg8qIyDzRULdvOC-Fu-prnTaKVnOzWNucbP0XKzIDMXfi1V-NwSWGLCJ87No2WTqHxlhcYIO6p1DLQxRPFGlJ4ClPwNUYFzyMG4okY4yEQsTPxpca5lsPjLaEYrRiitZvIWUh4hOFM/s1600-h/What_to_be_in_63_copy_b.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370437658744786738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnOpg8qIyDzRULdvOC-Fu-prnTaKVnOzWNucbP0XKzIDMXfi1V-NwSWGLCJ87No2WTqHxlhcYIO6p1DLQxRPFGlJ4ClPwNUYFzyMG4okY4yEQsTPxpca5lsPjLaEYrRiitZvIWUh4hOFM/s320/What_to_be_in_63_copy_b.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div>As a parent, I have observed that “age-appropriate” is a relative term; that is, relatives decide when a child gets a toy. The relative may be mom or dad, even grandparent, but especially the child herself. Yet for me, in the 1960s, the doll evolution determined the when and the age-appropriateness.</div><br /><div></div><div>Christmas Day 1963, I had been twelve-years-old for one week. My present would be Barbie. Immediately I noticed that she had dark hair like my mother; Barbie was not the blonde doll I had requested. (I was blonde, but every baby doll I ever had were brunettes also.) No matter, Barbie had come to live with me. </div><br /><div></div><div>My other gifts would be her attire. She arrived in an official box with her pearl earrings, black strappy heels, and that iconic black and white striped swimsuit. The rest of her wardrobe included a very sixties lounge outfit in a bold East Indian design, a fuzzy white coat, and a Dior-design dress with full skirt and little puffy sleeves. These out-of-the-box creations had been delicately hand-sewn. </div><br /><div></div><div>Hand-sewn? That detail bonded me to my new friend. Her wardrobe would be no different than my own clothing. My mother, grandmother, and godmother made all my outfits (and would continue until I went to college). Each woman had a wonderful tailoring touch and eye for creative detail and color. </div><br /><div></div><div>Besides, inside the Barbie box, was a booklet depicting her dream wardrobe. And dreamy were those drawings in bright drippy colors revealing the life adventures of a versatile, talented, independent, and creative young woman. All these visions captured what a twelve-year-old girl wants to know about her budding future as a woman. </div><br /><div>Her hair, her make-up, her fabulous figure? These details never seemed to touch the reality of my life. Those clothes reflected life adventures and possibilities.</div><br /><div></div><div>What I soon discovered, however, was that the $.25 to $.50 I was able to save each week would not be enough for the most amazing outfits and accessories. Even if I did manage to save $3.00 to $5.00, Woolworth’s had sold out what I planned to buy. Therefore I would have to go back to examples of versatility, talent, independence, and creativity of the women I knew in life.</div><br /><div></div><div>In the early sixties, major sewing pattern companies – Advance, McCall’s, and Simplicity – created their own line of Mattel endorsed pattern designs. The cover art was as fun and clever as the “ready-to-wear” wardrobe booklets. Any smart and self-sufficient young woman could have all the designs she wanted for the initial investment of $.50 to $.75. </div><br /><div></div><div>I wanted to be that kind of young woman; therefore, I learned to sew under the tutelage of my grandmother, along with the official Barbie sewing pamphlet included in the patterns.Even today, I find these directions to be a great primer for anyone wanting to learn the art of sewing. More than just instructions, these directions encouraged the young seamstress to have fun with cutting-up, a stitch-in-time, the hemming way, and getting-on-your-mark. And best of all, Barbie never complained about having handmade outfits, many of which coordinated with the fabrics worn by my mother and me. </div><br /><div></div><div>And later the next year, when my Barbie met Ken, she found that he never lost interest in her either.</div><br /><div></div><div>So here’s to you, Barbie! Happy 50th Birthday. </div><br /><div>Despite all the protests and complaints about your possible mixed-messages to my unconscious, I remain your friend. The Barbie I knew helped teach an adolescent what real adventures in life we must take to grow-up amid any decade’s superficiality and conformity.</div></div>Oakbrook Teacherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04095256139217873877noreply@blogger.com0