I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!
Inspired by a format I learned last year, here’s tonight’s “Right Now…”
Right Now. . .
There are no good snacks
3 opened boxes of Late July crackers, but no good snacks
An old bag of gluten free pretzels, and I saw some pears, but there are no good snacks
Right Now. . .
My cats look depressed
rightly so, I forgot to buy cans
and they are tired of hard food
Right Now. . .
I know I should go to sleep
get actual rest!
Right Now. . .
I wish I had more spring break, more time with my kids
I pre-miss them for tomorrow,
I'm jealous of their long break
Right Now. . .
I wonder where my lost library book is
and if I remembered to start the laundry
.....
I didn't.
Right Now. . .
I need a pedicure
And I know it will be a long time before that happens
Right Now. . .
I promise to make myself go to bed
Soon,
like right now. . .
I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!
Parenting is a crazy way to spend the day. The slices abound really, but just a few from yesterday. . . The walk: I forced the children to go on a walk. Convincing them to stop their random hanging out to go on a mission took stamina… but soon we were off. They all decided to wear short sleeves, even though I thought they would get cold eventually. The site of them walking in short sleeves begged to be photographed. Here’s what I eventually ended up getting… so cute, right? Facebook cover photo worthy.
Short sleeves!
But when I asked them to let me take a picture from behind them, the first picture I got was this:
“Oh mommy, do we have to trudge up this hill of doom?”
It was actually the perfect picture to illustrate their actual feelings about going on a walk, carrying bags no less! The Post Office: Just imagine two boys, 8 and 5 happily experimenting with the mail slot. The envelope is there! Now it’s gone! Still gone! Still gone! Still gone! The Library: Try as I might, I can’t get my kids to love the library as much as I do. Yesterday I didn’t even really like it. It was crowded, and someone was wearing too much cologne. The computer in the kids section always frustrates me… it turns my book loving 5 year old into a computer game junkie. But the science activity was fun, and we picked out some movies, paid our fines (yep. fines.), and I got a book, “Beyond the Laughing Sky,” which has been on my to read list. Luckily my kids are shy, so when a little boy came up to E at the computer and asked if there was another computer to use, my kids all jumped up. “We should actually go.” L said as E ripped the headphones from his ear and all but threw them at the little boy. We checked out our movies and my book, as my boys chanted their favorite line from the NFL bad lip reading: “I thought about what you said man, I got my legos and I’ll bring them, then we can play. All day. ” Time to leave the library! Coffee Shop “Small town Twist:” Headed to the coffee shop, we passed the deserted Santa House, and the kids looked inside.
It’s spring, Santa! Take your house back to the North Pole, please!
The kids decided they’d much rather go to the ice cream shop. I said, “But ice cream is more of a summer activity.” and E replied, “But it won’t melt!” So against my better judgment, in we went. Our local ice cream shop used to be a Dairy Queen, but is now an independent local “Twist.” We try to like it. Even my vegan self wants local businesses to work. But every time we go it just doesn’t work out for us. This visit started with broken ice cream machines, “We have dipped vanilla and chocolate,” we were told. The kids chose their flavor and asked for sprinkles. The woman behind the counter said something and I asked her to repeat. “Would the kids like to watch the sprinkle machine?” My three kids politely turned to watch as the machine started slowly turning, dropping sprinkles as it buzzed. We smiled at each other sharing the joke that this was not really very exciting. Their ice creams each received about 15 sprinkles, and we sat at a table, noticing the empty ice cream cake freezers and we laughed. Later at home, telling the story to Mr. Thought, H wanted to be sure we weren’t laughing at the woman who was serving our ice cream. We talked about that, about empathy, and about how we were surely laughing at our circumstances, not the nice worker.
Some people go to theme parks during Spring Break… We get the Sprinkle Machine!
Karate: We walked to Karate, and I wiped E’s sticky face and hands with his shirt as we went in. E and I watched the big kids, and I read my library book while he played a few games on my iPhone. All is calm until E randomly fell on the floor. He’s okay, but what’s with 5 year olds always falling and bumping? “Did you hit your head?” I asked him about 5 times before I believed him that it was just his hands and knees. Back Home: A family meeting is called to decide what to do the next day, mommy’s last day of spring “break.” On thoughts of heading on a long day trip to the Crayola Experience, I said “There are pros and cons. I think we would all have a great day! But if it’s just mommy and three of you, I’m concerned that if you don’t listen, you could get lost, or in trouble with a stranger.” I expected them to say, “We’ll listen, we promise!” But instead they all say together, “No. I don’t want to go then.” Ahhhh. My kids. At least they are realistic with their listening skills. So we planned a day of local activities instead. Parenting is a crazy way to spend the day. While I’ve been writing this post… H has made strawberry soup, which we tried (not too bad actually. E has made legos, and every time he walks away from his project he slips on a magazine someone has left on the floor. I keep saying, “Please pick up the magazine so you stop slipping!” L is making and then organizing her videos on her iPad, and Mr. Thought has said “I have to get to work!” about 5 times. H looks over my shoulder and says: “Slice of life! Why don’t you just cut a little piece of your brain? A slice of your life. A slice of your heart?”
I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!
I tried out the Super App, from the inspiration on day 7. Kevin Hodgson does it here in this blog post. I can’t seem to get the app to share the picture with me in the right way, but I worked around it… Here’s my quick slice for the day, experimenting with the digital writing genre.
I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!
Run. Think.
BeforeI argue with myself
I want to go
it will be so cold
running is hard
running is good
I gear up
plan
think
fresh air
sun
accomplishment
coffee shop at finish
First step out the door
a cold blast
I walk
wait to begin
try to stretch
Music starts
I run
Ugh
I'm slow
Why do I start up a hill?
dumb
It is cold
My toes are cold
My fingers too
I should have worn gloves
Maybe I’ll just run one mile
it's better than nothing,
right?
I round the corner
to a slight downhill
then straight
I settle in
Now I have to decide
Straight to more decisions the possibility of a short run
Or turn left, run farther from home where my only decisions are 2 miles or more
I turn left
with an immediate sense of regret
running is hard
now I'm hot
I wrestle my jacket off
tie it on my waist
spend a few minutes distracted by tangled headphones
Down a hill
my app tells me its been a mile
I feel good!
If I can do 1 mile, I can do my Saturday 3
I remember this
how running is good
not easy -- but fun
free
with loud music
a helpful beat
Up a hill
I tell myself that even
2 miles would be admirable
after all, I ran yesterday
the kids are waiting for me to come home
I am going to run again tomorrow
I hit my stride
on a long stretch of straight and then down
I know it's because it's downhill
so I lengthen my gait
I push it
The bottom of the hill has more decisions
straight and I can run to the track
finish up a 3.1 and walk the mile home
right and I will run all the way to the hill of doom
where I will certainly stop around 2.7
but I will be so close to home
the finish
I'm thirsty
I'm a little bit bored.
But that hill
I always stop on that hill
Mind over matter hasn’t worked
-- yet
I go straight,
right
left
stop at the l o n g traffic light
left all the way to the track
2.74 is what my map tells me
when I see that the track is covered with snow
I take that as an excuse
to stop.
I walk home
with coffee
I think
Running is good
I wonder how much I'll run tomorrow.
I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!
Yesterday
Tomorrow it will feel so good to
do laundry
clean the bathroom
and the kitchen
I will help kids straighten up their rooms
fill bags for goodwill
get groceries
go on a run
Today
What a nice day to
let kids play
read blogs
and comment for the commenting challenge
Maybe I'll take the kids to a movie
I'll still fit in the run
How much longer can I ignore the laundry?
This is why being a grown up isn't really working out for me.
I tell my students to
make a to do list
color code it
start with priority one
check things off,
It will feel so good!
I tell my children to
clean up after themselves
do their chores first
I sit at my dining room table
the sun is pouring in the window
the mess is all around me
I'm trying to motivate myself
To take my own advice.
Wish me luck.
I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!
Today I am a 6th grade teacher. I plan lessons, I love learning. I attempt to listen to my students more than I talk to them. I enjoy my school day and I try to balance my life as a teacher and a mom.
28 years ago, I was a fifth grader (I think I did that math correctly…) and I did not enjoy school. I was not having a good year. I cried myself to sleep every night. I missed my best friend, my old house, the way things used to be. I lived middle school in a daze. I moved from classroom to classroom. With so many teachers, I tried to learn, I think. But learning wasn’t my priority. Practicing math facts and spelling words were things people told me to do, not things I cared about. I had a headache every day. My teachers didn’t believe me. It was not a good year.
Today I sit with a student and his mom, 2 other teachers, and a guidance counselor. We are talking about organization and writing things in the assignment book. We discuss zoning out vs. paying attention to what is being said, and how to know what work needs to be done. It feels respectful, it feels like a team. My student is calm as he answers questions, and he listens as we explain. We tell him things like, “We know it’s hard” and “We’re here to help you.”
28 years ago, I was the student with my mom, in a room with my teachers, counselor and I think my principal too. I don’t remember why we were there exactly — a combination of my poor grades and my headaches that most of the teachers thought I was faking. I do not remember feeling calm. I remember feeling attacked and nervous. I remember my chin shaking as I stuck up for myself. I remember telling them that it wasn’t okay that Mr. R played music while we took quizzes, that I couldn’t concentrate. I remember Mrs. M joining my side, sticking up for me. I remember my mom telling them that I did indeed have headaches, that I was trying my best. I remember her telling me that I did a good job sticking up for myself in front of all of my teachers and the other adults.
Today I sit in a meeting and I find myself transported back to my meeting 28 years ago.
I hope my student feels it, the reason we are here. I hope he knows that we are trying to help him. I hope he knows this is a team.
As he leaves I say, “You did a great job talking to all of these adults! Thank you.”
I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!
I’ve said goodnight and “I’ll check on you.” to L, and I snuggle in with E. He’s 5 and so tired. I know he’ll fall asleep soon. He talks himself to sleep these days. These late night dark chats are some of my favorites. He talks about the state facts he’s learned from his state book. He talks about his dreams, remembers fun and scary things from the past and tries to think through complex thoughts. Luckily, I have been able to record a few of his deep thoughts as he gets tangled up in circles:
I hope you have sweet dreams. No I hope you have sweet nightmares. I’m not saying that to you, I’m just saying what if like… wait. When you say… wait…Pretend that bad words don’t exist, and pretend this is a bad word… um… that nightmare is a bad word… um… and then think that… Mom? Then think that it’s an expression. You don’t say it, well don’t think it, you just don’t say ‘It’s like another words I want to say.’ Like when I said to you right now that you want to have happy nightmares.. you don’t have to say it’s another word… Why am I talking to you so much? You know why? It’s because I’m so awake! Mommy! I don’t need any blanket. I just need to love you. A few breaths later he is out like a light.
Meanwhile Mr. Thought is in a deep conversation with H.
“What’s your favorite part of your brain?” He asks our 8 year old.
H isn’t sure. “I don’t know.”
So Mr. Thought probes a bit more. “Is it how you can just learn something so fast like that magic trick you learned tonight?”
“Yea. I guess that’s my favorite.”
Feeling profound, Mr. Thought asks, “What’s your least favorite part of your brain?”
H thinks for a moment and then answers, “Oh. . . It’s how when I’m writing in cursive. You know how you are supposed to slant the page away to help you slant your writing when you write in cursive? Well, my brain always makes me write it straight. I can’t make the letters slanted, even though I’m trying to force my brain to make the letters follow the slant of the page.”
The specifics of an 8 year old. . . deep thoughts of my preschooler, what a night.
I check on my daughter one more time, and head downstairs.
I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!
I’m lying down in yoga class, and I’m thinking of something I want to write about. It is almost articulated in my mind.
It is not that I am so excited to wear my yoga pants for actual yoga. (Even though I am!)
It is not that this peaceful class, so quiet and calm with all its breathing, will be over and the welcome into the real world will be harsh and cold and loud. (Even though it will be.)
Thoughts are supposed to come without judgement during yoga. I am supposed to notice them and move on. But this is March, so I analyze and reflect and try to put into words… What is this slice that is flittering around my brain?
I’m twisted, my arms out in a T. My left leg is bent on top of my right leg. I am told to keep my shoulders pressed and grounded and I think I am. I feel twisted and I’m breathing my “complete breaths.” My teacher comes over to ask me how I’m doing. I nod and say “I’m good.”
She says “I’m just going to check your shoulder.” Her hand is able to go completely under my shoulder, which means my shoulder wasn’t where it was supposed to be. She gently pulls my arm into the correct position, and it is startling to me how different it feels. I thought I was twisted correctly, and doing fine. But then she corrects me. We switch to the other side, and I try to use what I learned, and let my shoulders fall into the floor. My teacher comes again, asking how I am doing. “I’m good.” I say. “I think.” I add. She checks, and I am better, but still need help putting my arms in the best spot. She gently leans on my shoulders pushing them farther down.
I continue to notice my shoulders and how they try to trick me throughout my yoga. They hold tension I don’t quite understand, and I often think I’ve relaxed into a position, only to notice that my shoulders are braced and tight.
I’m thinking about honesty. I’m thinking about yoga, and also writing. As my slicing muscles flex and bend again this March, I feel my writing so far, is like my yoga tonight. I think I am being authentic as I write. But when I reflect on my words, I am left feeling like there are words between my lines. They are waiting with tension: braced and tight. I’ll need to push myself, ground myself in this writing practice in order to relax — into honesty.
I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!
The silent countdown has begun at school. It’s a shift in the air, imperceptible to some. But, I feel it.
I feel it in the hushed conversations, “Did you do that?” “Do your kids know that?”
I feel it in the paperwork I find in my “To File” pile, and take out to scrutinize.
I feel it in the student data I look at just to check one more time.
I feel it in the way I try to assure myself by listing things I have done.
And in the way I don’t believe my own list.
I feel it in the questions I ask myself: “Did you explicitly teach ‘dynamic character’ as a literary term? How about bias? Epic? Conflict? Exaggeration?” “Did you do enough close reading with this class?”
I feel it in all the things I have left that I want to teach.
And most of all, I feel it in my big yearly question: “Was the decision to teach the kids and not the test the right one?”
And, in my big answer: “Well, it’s too late now anyway!”
I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March. You should do it too! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!
It’s loud in here. I should wait to slice, but I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep and miss my chance.
Kids are wandering over to try to sit on my lap where my laptop is. L and Mr. Thought are laughing and playing hangman. My son is fake-reading my words and tickling me. I don’t need to tell you how messy my house is. People are climbing over and and leaning in. They are underfoot.
Not exactly a writer’s retreat. I can’t get a thought to finish in my head.
I try to think, I hear instead.
“What’s the one that’s famous for it’s spelling? The state?” (H asks me as he lounges on the back of the couch.
“No! I don’t want you to fight me!” (Pretend dinosaurs talking with E)
I think H might be falling asleep as he curls around the couch – marker on his hands, glasses still on. Teeth not yet brushed.
The dinosaurs aren’t fighting anymore, but the hangman game is in full swing.
“It’s not fair! I want to guess! It’s not fair! I want to guess! It’s not fair! I want to guess!” E yells.
It’s bedtime, and I’m hoping for quiet dreams after just a little bit of time to think.