Mud thoughts

No, not musing on ugly campaign tactics, walking under the freeway.  Wednesday was so beautiful I made another trek  under Over World.  And there was joy in Mudville when mighty CollageMama looked up.

With color on hiatus, texture is much more visible.  The many installations of mud tubes on the concrete support columns and beams under the freeway ramps impressed me with their structural precision and beauty.  Thanks to a former teacher/365photographer in Tennessee, I've learned they are made by organ pipe mud dauber wasps.  [No, that was not Mork's wife.]  Male mud dauber wasps guard the nest while the females go hunting for orb spiders to stuff into the pipes to feed the little ones.  Okay, I'm not going to make the manicotti for supper tonight...

There are many mud bird nests under the freeway access ramps, but not any under the main lanes of US 75.  Too much noise and vibration?  Or maybe to far a first flight to open sky?  There is a shortage of graffiti, too.  Will the birds and spray paint artists return to nest in the spring?  What can I learn about teaching clay projects for children from the birds, the wasps, and the tire tracks?

Heading back toward the trailhead, a word that sounds ridiculous in this urban setting, I annoyed a great blue heron in the creek on beyond the graffiti column.  The heron flew away against the traffic.

© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder

Odor and texture memory

I caught just the slightest scent of a wet brown paper sack today, and was transported nearly a half century back in time to the brown singlefold paper towels in the restrooms at my elementary school. Those paper towels didn't dry hands so much as chap them. Then I could feel and smell the weird, gritty powdered soap that came out of the dispensers at the sinks. Don't know what that stuff was made of since it sure didn't lather. It just scoured the dirt, paint, nose goobies, and graphite off of us.

Elementary school was not for wimps!

© 2009 Nancy L. Ruder

Dance of the Sugarplum ISBNs

Last Saturday at the literacy workshop we played with Wikki Stix to form letters. Wikki Stix are basically pieces of yarn coated with colored wax. They have endless kids' craft uses, but I hadn't considered the teaching possibilities before. At the workshop we used Wikki Stix to form letters and numbers on a flat surface, then make crayon texture rubbings on paper over the formations. Wikki Stix adhere to the table unlike most texture rubbing craft materials, making it much easier for preschoolers.

The possibilities for creating animation and flip book sequences with the Wikki Stix rubbings really recharged my brain's dry cell battery. What if a marching band of red wiggler worms formed mutating numerals a football halftime show? With the Wikki Stix it was so easy to make incremental changes and produce quick rubbing images.

This Saturday I worked at the library preparing order forms for books, large print materials, and audio books. ISBN numbers danced around in my head like a proofreading nightmare version of "The Nutcracker".

International Standard Book Numbers used to be ten-digit identification codes that had a good beat you could almost dance to or type from memory. Now they are cursed thirteen-digit headaches that identify each individual media format for a particular title. As the day progressed, the ISBN numbers began to wiggle and shimmer, uncurl and travel when I tried to type, like enthused wax-dipped yarn dervishes. If they didn't all begin with 978, I would never have been able to corral them on paper!


The second edition of Mary Appelhof's Worms Eat My Garbage has just one ISBN:
9780977804511

Judith Viorst's new book, Alexander and the Wonderful, Marvelous, Excellent, Terrific Ninety Days, has all these ISBNs for various formats:
9781400105281
9781400135288
9781400155286
9781416550051

Barack Obama's Audacity of Hope has twice that many number assignments. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets has thrice just in English. Form those numbers, my little red wigglers, between the yard markers and the hash marks.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

Burlapping

Just starting a stitching project on a fabric background composed of overlapping white and brown burlap, gray satin, hand-dyed and discharged pieces of cotton, and a delicate floral former chiffon scarf. I'll post progress reports on my Mama Collages blog.

© 2007 Nancy L. Ruder

Counting on Norton

Six preschoolers gathered round when I got out the box of sandpaper numbers. Sandpaper numbers are multisensory tools for teaching counting, number recognition, and numeral formation. The little students love to drive their index finger along the gravel road to trace the sandpaper number, beginning at the top.

Learning to count is amazingly hard work. These kids can all say, "1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10!" But it doesn't mean anything. They don't have the connection between the sound and concept of the number. They don't grasp one-to-one correspondence in counting, or connect the symbol of the numeral with the concept of the number.

I asked three children to work with me, but three more immediately joined the group. Three more lurked nearby, but we were already standing room only. Part of the attraction of the sandpaper number work is being sent on finding missions. Each time we trace a number and say the name. We form our fingers to show the number. Two children look for the number in illustrated counting books. One student is sent to find the number on the big number poster in the math center. One goes to get that many smooth, polished stones, and another to get sunflower seeds from the science center. One goes all the way to the writing center to bring back that many colored or striped pencils. Sometimes they are sent on missions to find paper clips, finger puppets, buttons, or dried gourds. These missions are serious work. Somehow the walking and finding helps connect the number and counting in the brain. The kids stay on task, and don't start ricocheting around the classroom, but I'm pulling every trick I've got out of my sleeve to keep the six of them engaged.

Thank heaven for the class rabbit, Norton. He came galumphing over to the group as only a nine pound rabbit can galumph. He just wanted to check out the action as the children were taking turns tracing the sandpaper number 2. I picked up Norton and held him on my lap. When we trace the sandpaper number, we start at the top, I explained. But when we stroke Norton's ears we start at the bottom. Each child got a turn to sit by me and stroke the big bunny's ears, counting slowly, "one, two". For Norton it was just another day on the job as preschool classroom rabbit. For the kids, it was number magic. In six brains they've linked the sandpaper tracing of the number, the slow speaking of "one, two," as they stroked the soft fur along the rabbit's long ears. Maybe next week we can feed him three carrots!

© 2007 Nancy L. Ruder

Knights of the Texture Round Table

Been back in medieval times for a few weeks, so I've been illuminating manuscripts instead of blogging. We did a print project that involved making a texture collage on a shield-shaped piece of cardboard. We made prints of the textured surface, called collographs, onto colored cellophanes and framed them to resemble stained glass windows. Finally we painted and mounted the texture collage as if it were a heraldic banner hanging on a castle wall.

Thanks to all the noble lords and ladies who contributed cds, bubble wrap, zippers, and buttons for the project!

Ish Wish Dish

I promised photos of the awesome metallic fish collages and the collograph prints. Just wave your hand in a big swish swish:

A largemouth bass, no doubt.

A very scaly use of the WASTE ziplock bags.

Remember that book, CDB? CDFish? OSICDFish!
Collograph print.
Seriously gorgeous!

Heavy metal

Back on Friday I posted a photo of fish-shaped collages using metallic texture materials. Today the class finished the scales and we made collograph prints. First we tried printing onto blue cellophane, but it didn't look particularly impressive. Quick switch to printing on black 18 x 24 inch construction paper, and the results were awesome. I will get photos posted ASAP because the prints are gorgeous. The project made use of lots of recycled materials, and taught cutting techniques for different materials. The collograph print and the texture collage are both neato keen.

We mixed a potion of black tempera, silver tempera, and gold washable printing ink on the printing plate (actually an old school cafeteria tray). The ink is too sticky and thick to roll onto the texture collage without the tempera added in. We used sponge brayers to ink the fish, then set the black paper on top of the fish, rather than inverting the fish. The prints turned out looking like brass rubbings from English tombs, delicate Japanese prints made with real fish, and industrial schematic/robotic diagrams rolled into one.

Japanese fish prints are a really great idea if you aren't the art teacher. When I first started teaching, our school director got all gung-ho about the educational value of having preschoolers make fish prints. I'm thankful to this day that I dodged that bullet. My friend wasn't so lucky. She got stuck buying a very large and scaly fish from a fresh fish market, and trying to make prints with kids totally creeped out by the slimy, smelly fish. Nowadays you can buy fake rubber fish from the art and school supply catalogs to teach this alleged nature/art/cultural awareness project.

My friend went on to be a compost educator. I always wonder about that Thanksgiving story about Indians teaching the Pilgrims to put a fish in the hole for each corn seed planted. Okay, I'm kind of vague on the details, not being in third grade any more. Still, I bet she was glad to get rid of that big, inky fish in some dirt hole.

When I was actually married and a new mom to boot, my ex went into a transition phase back to vegetarianism. His diet included Diet Coke, M&Ms, donuts, homegrown garden vegetable gazpacho made in the blender and unfortunately sprayed all over the kitchen, fish and seafood from the "Fresh Fish Truck" found in a parking lot in downtown Omaha.

One evening he brought home squid. Some folks might get all rapturous and poetic about calimari. Indeed, I teach gourmet first-graders who compare and contrast kinds of squid. My experience was a like choking down sections of garden hose.

The squid was nothing compared to the Big Fish. My ex, in triumphant returning hunter mode, brought home a Big Fish. He attempted to de-bone and de-scale this monster. Things didn't work out. They REALLY didn't work out. He scraped the mess on the cutting board down the drain into the garbage disposal. The bones and scales got stuck in the disposal. REALLY stuck. Attempts to dislodge the bones were unsuccessful for DAYS and WEEKS. Imagine the aroma! Imagine it at breakfast time! Imagine it with no money to hire a repairman.

Fish to scale

I've been on a mission to find art class uses for the heavy, silver-toned ziplock bags I got at the last Raytheon W.A.S.T.E. give-away. The plastic is too difficult for preschoolers to cut with scissors. I think it makes lovely fish scales, though. My elementary students have been making metallic fish using a variety of materials. Some of the fish will be double-sided, and filled with a stuffing to make "puffy fish". Others will be used as collographs to make interesting texture prints.