Thursday, February 19, 2026

Reading Aloud As Service (1 of 3)

 READING ALOUD AS SERVICE

PART 1 (2 hours): Why We Read Aloud — Reading as Care & Connection

Purpose:

To ground volunteers in the why of reading aloud: not performance, but human connection and literacy access.


Key Ideas:

- Reading aloud builds emotional safety, language exposure, listening stamina, and shared meaning.

- Volunteers are co-readers, not performers.

- A good read-aloud is about attunement, not accents or acting.


STORYTELLING & READ ALOUD TECHNIQUES


* What is storytelling

* Why tell stories

* Storytelling and the Four Macro Skills in Communication Arts

* The Many Ways to Tell Stories

* The Storytelling Program

* Open Forum


Assignment/Task: Watch this video of a Read Aloud

Read Aloud video: My Daddy My One and Only


Guide questions: 

1. What is the framework used in the read aloud experience? 

2. What activities were used in the pre-reading, during reading and post reading stages? 

3. How were you affected by the activities and the read aloud experience overall?


Tuesday, February 17, 2026

Book Reviews and Recommended Reads: Light, Love and Revolution in Children's Literature (1 of 3)

 

Monday, February 16, 2026

Book Review: Ang Laro nina Rona at Powa


Dahil nalalapit na ang Lunar New Year, narito ang aking rebyu ng aklat pambata ni Becky Gerodias at Joanne Wong, Ang Laro nina Rona at Powa.

Ang Laro nina Rona at Powa 

Manunulat: Becky Gerodias

Illustrador: Joanne Wong

Maikling Rebyu (para sa mga guro, magulang, at tagapagbasa):

Sa gitna ng pagdiriwang ng Lunar New Year, inilalatag ng kuwento ang isang karaniwang damdamin ng bata: inggit. Nakita ni Rona ang bagong laruan ni Powa—at sa halip na manatili sa pagkukumpara, natuto siyang i-channel ang damdaming ito tungo sa paglikha. Dito pumapasok ang mahalagang mensahe ng aklat: agency at self-confidence na nagmumula sa sariling kakayahan.

Mga Lakas ng Aklat

1. Emosyonal na literasiya

Hindi dinidemonisa ang inggit. Sa halip, ipinapakita na maaari itong maging panimulang damdamin para sa pagkatuto at paglikha. Mainam itong lunsaran ng pag-uusap sa mga bata tungkol sa:

  • Ano ang nararamdaman ko?

  • Ano ang maaari kong gawin sa damdaming ito?

2. Pagpapahalaga sa kakayahan at pagkamalikhain

Sa paggawa ni Rona ng sarili niyang laruan, naipapakita ang growth mindset. Hindi kailangang magkaroon agad ng “bago” para maging masaya; maaari kang lumikha.

3. Reciprocal na pagkakaibigan

Ang pagbabago ni Rona ang naging tulay para kay Powa na magbahagi. Hindi ito sermon tungkol sa “dapat mag-share.” Ito ay ipinapakitang bunga ng kumpiyansa at seguridad sa sarili ang pagbabahagi.

4. Cultural grounding

Ang konteksto ng Chinese/Lunar New Year ay hindi lamang dekorasyon. Maaari itong magsilbing:

  • Pagpapakilala sa mga simbolo ng pagdiriwang (kulay pula, mga palamuti, pamilya)

  • Pagbubukas ng usapan sa cultural diversity sa Pilipinas at sa mga impluwensiya ng bansang China at Hong Kong sa mundo.

Mga Tanong sa Pagpapalalim (para sa read-aloud o classroom use)

  • Kailan ka nakaramdam ng inggit? Ano ang ginawa mo?

  • Ano ang kaya mong gawin gamit ang sarili mong talento?

  • Paano nagbago ang kilos ni Powa dahil sa ginawa ni Rona?

  • Ano ang kahulugan ng pagbabahagi kung pareho kayong may tiwala sa sarili?

Marami pang mga aklat pambata na puwedeng mabasa at basahin online. Ito ay libre. Pumunta lang sa Room to Read para makapili ng mga kuwento.

Bangtan Hermana Notes: From Connections to Love Songs: Installation Art and Art in Public Spaces in BTS’s Narrative of Kinship

In 2020, when BTS launched CONNECT, BTS under the curatorial direction of Daehyung Lee, I remember thinking: this is unusual. A Kpop group funding global contemporary art, stepping back so other artists could take the space. It asked what connection looks like when it is built, not performed.

CONNECT unfolded during Map of the Soul: 7, an era about shadow and integration. Outwardly, they were practicing what the album suggested inwardly: plurality.
They decentralized themselves. They shifted attention from idol to collective. It felt less like branding and more like bridge-building.
Now, buildings in Seongsu wrapped in red and white tape ask: What is your love song? The question interrupts the street. It slows the body. In the context of Arirang, a folk song carried across generations, that question becomes communal. A love song is not owned. It is remembered, passed on, sung again.
If CONNECT was about network, Arirang feels like root. CONNECT moved through art institutions. Arirang moves through the public space. Gwhanghwamun Square. This is a shift from curated space to common space, from vertical strucyures to horizontal chorus. Not kingship. Kinship.
I return to CONNECT because I see the arc. From building connections across cities to asking ordinary people what song holds them together. From infrastructure to inheritance. Perhaps this is the deeper work: not just releasing music, but rehearsing community until we realize we were never outside the song. We, ARMY, most especially, were always part and participants of the story of BTS.
Apobangpo! Purple and true!
Connect Video Compilation: https://youtube.com/playlist...

Sunday, February 15, 2026

Silver Linings with Ms. Zee: Hand Building Pottery Workshop at Papemelroti

It was my dream to run a workshop at Papemelroti. Robert and I had a brief chat about it on Messenger during the pandemic. As it happened, he passed on, and those touched by his legacy and love continue. Yesterday, that dream materialized.

I held a Hand-Building Pottery Workshop at the main branch of Papemelroti, where five students played with clay in shared breathwork. My small circle of students was led by Cris Tanjutco. We go a long way back to our reading and literacy advocacy days. Meeting her husband, Galvin, and her son, Asher, felt like coming full circle. It was a family affair. With them were her brother, Mark, and his spouse, PL—both natural at hand-building.

From this workshop, I carry learning experiences too. I need a bigger trolley, that’s for sure. Always make room for student choice and agency. I have yet to master the business side of this endeavor. For now, I hold on to the non-monetary returns of the experience.

Till next clay-ventures!

Saturday, February 14, 2026

Bangtan Hermana Notes: BTS Returning With ARMY

Poetry: Three Arirang Cups

I made three Arirang cups.

While smoothing the surface

I recalled
and thought of people
who harmed and hurt
my children and myself.
Who never apologized.
My hands kept moving.
Clay does not argue.
It yields, but not without form.
I prayed for healing
and forgiveness
whenever it arrives.
Not forced. Not demanded. Not performed.
Just this:
smoothing the surface
again and again
until it can be held.
Grace will be given as they burn in the kiln.
©️zarah gagatiga 02132026

Wednesday, February 11, 2026

Reading for Care: The Plant on the Window Speaks

Inspired by the Memoir Writing Workshop by Women Writing last Saturday, February 7, we begin Reading for Care: How Literature Holds Us, a new blog series that centers on attention and awareness to the beauty of words and how it holds space for readers like us. All you need is a pen and a paper (or a notebook) and 10-20 minutes time allotment for journaling.

The instructions are simple: Read the poem for the week. Sit with it. Write responses in your journal.

Note:
This is a reading and journaling space, not therapy. Please feel free to pause or step away whenever you need to.

Here we go!

Arrival: Notice this photo and stay in the moment of noticing. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Do this 3-5 times.




Encounter the poem, The Little Plant in the Window Speaks by Annette Wynne.

The Little Plant on the Window Speaks

by Annette Wynne

If you had let me stay all winter long outside,
Long, long ago, I should have died.
And so I'll live for you and keep
A little summer while the others sleep—
A little summer on your window-sill—
I'll be your growing garden spot until
The rough winds go away,
And great big gardens call you out to play.


When Literature Holds: Journal prompts 

1. What did you notice, visually, in sound, or in feeling, as you read? 

2. Which line felt steady or comforting? Write it in your journal. 

3. What image from the poem stayed with you? Did it bring a memory, 

a place, or a person to mind?


Extending the experience (only if you wish or if the spirit is nudging 

towards generosity), you can:

1. Share a similar photo on your socmed account.

2. Do something artistic or creative.

3. Read more poetry: The Human Touch, Weighing the World


Thank you for dropping by. May you find shelter in what you notice.



Tuesday, February 10, 2026

Recommended Reads: Continuing the Healing Work of Reading

I'm sharing the texts I used in the workshop on the Memoir with and by Women Writing.

Reading to Settle and Stay with Fragility

• Berry, Wendell. The Peace of Wild Things. Poem. From Collected Poems of Wendell Berry. Counterpoint, 2012.

• Kalanithi, Paul. When Breath Becomes Air. Memoir. Random House, 2016.

• Didion, Joan. The Year of Magical Thinking. Memoir. Alfred A. Knopf, 2005.

Reading for Recognition (Mirrors)

• Howe, Marie. What the Living Do. Poem. From What the Living Do. W.W. Norton, 1998.

• Baticulon, Ronnie. Some Days You Can’t Save Them All. Memoir. Anvil Publishing, 2018.

• Smith, Maggie. Good Bones. Poem. First published 2016.

 

Reading for Perspective (Windows)

• Hopkins, Gerard Manley. Pied Beauty. Poem. First published 1918.

• Alejo, Bert. Tagpi-tagping Kariktan. Filipino translation of Pied Beauty.

• Evasco, Marjorie (ed.). Viral Signs. Poetry anthology. University of the Philippines Press, 2017.

 

Reading that Opens Possibility (Doors)

• Adams, Sarah. Be Cool to the Pizza Dude. Essay. From Letters from a Father.

• Gay, Ross. The Book of Delights. Essay collection. Algonquin Books, 2019.

• Didion, Joan. Keeping a Notebook. Essay. First published 1968.

Monday, February 9, 2026

Bangtan Hermana Notes: The Kinship in BTS’s Narrative of Return

When news of BTS walking the King’s Path broke across social media, many of us instinctively affixed “of the King” to the word return. As an author of folklore retellings and someone who has studied folk art, I think this calls for unpacking. BTS’s album title is Arirang, positioned as a folk song, a song of the people. An intangible art.

Folk songs are art whose material is people. They are intangible not because they are unreal, but because they live only through being carried across seasons, borders, and generations.

I am not rejecting honor, especially when ARMYs before me have invested deep fan labor. I am staying true to the form of Arirang as an art in itself, which BTS has chosen to name their comeback album. Seen this way, BTS engaging Arirang is not merely converting cultural heritage into pop.
It is them stepping into a role that is older than pop: the carrier. The bearer of culture.
BTS is moving from palace threshold to civic space to open square. From history into the present. From one voice to many.
Kinship, in this reading, is not symbolic. It is structural. Folk songs are never held by the singer alone; they survive because they are sustained by a chorus. This is where ARMY enters not just as audience, not merely as consumers, but as co-carriers.

Millions of us will never meet, yet we recognize ourselves in the same song, at the same time, across distance and difference. That shared act of listening, repeating, and remembering is what turns sound into belonging. When BTS sings Arirang, they are not simply addressing a market; they are calling a kin group into being again. A people imagined into relation through voice, timing, and care. This is not fandom as hierarchy nor a parasocial relationship. It is community as chorus.
This is also why, for me, the shorthand “kings of K-pop” fails to hold. Kingship relies on vertical power, singular ascent, and fixed centers. What BTS has built over a decade and more, does not move that way, despite ARMY’s valiant campaigns across charts and voting seasons. BTS’s work spreads laterally through themes that recur rather than resolve (the Möbius strip at Sowoozoo), through members who diverge and return without severing the root (solo mixtapes, songs, and projects during the enlistment era), through listeners who form countless nodes of meaning across cultures and generations (ARMY as a diverse fandom). In this structure, nothing depends on a throne. Nothing requires a crown. The song moves because people move with it. If this return matters, it is not because rulers are being restored, but because a shared imagination is being renewed, one that resists enclosure, survives translation, and remains alive precisely because it does not belong to anyone alone.

A folk song’s light flickers. It endures not because it is fixed, but because it is vulnerable enough to be carried. Its life depends on repetition, memory, and people choosing to keep singing even when conditions are uncertain or difficult. Spectacle can amplify it, but it can also thin it out. Smoothing the roughness, closing the gaps where ordinary people once stepped in. Kinship is what protects the song here. When meaning is shared rather than owned, when the chorus matters as much as the voice at the center, the song stays alive. What is at risk in moments like this is not relevance, but intimacy.
So I stay with the tension. I let the scale be what it is, and I keep my attention on the smaller movements: how the song is framed, how restraint is practiced, how space is left open for listeners to enter. Folk traditions survive not by being resolved into monuments, but by remaining passable: hand to hand, voice to voice, generation to generation. If Arirang continues to flicker through this return, it will be because kinship, not kingship, is doing the carrying.
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