Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers
My backpack is torn, well-used, broken-in. I should buy a new one, but this one still works, so why spend the money?
“Clean out backpack” was on my list to do this morning, and since I’ve been working all summer I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I’ve been using my backpack a lot. I feel like I just cleaned it out a month ago.
That must have been when I put an apple in there for a mid-PD snack.
That apple died in my backpack. It was a terrible death, as evidenced by the disgusting paper towel I pulled from the bottom.
“I guess I can throw my bag in the wash tonight.” I comforted myself.
And then I pulled out my Coaching Institute notebook. The notebook that I use all the time. The notes help me frame so many things in my work: Purpose, inspiration, feedback, balanced literacy, coaching in… The TCRWP Coaching Institute was the best Professional Development I’ve ever had!
My notes are mostly gone now – soaked away by dying apple juice.
This better not be an indication of how my coaching year will go.
This better just be an indication that I need to buy a new backpack. And maybe a lunchbox. And maybe it’s time to go back to Teacher’s College for another Institute.
On a Thought 
I feel your pain as I read your post. I especially like your optimistic ending. NOT how my year will go and maybe time to make another notebook at TCRWP!! Enjoy buying your backpack and I highly encourage you to return to TC – it’s my happy place too!
Oh no! Been there, done that. Maybe the thoughts and notes are just now fermented into your being. Have a wonderful start to your coaching year.
UGH! I hate when that sort of thing happens. I had to promise myself not to put food in my school bag anymore, and I have had to only buy specific kinds of water bottles because I had a lot of things ruined by spilled water!
Oh! That is the worst! I’m glad you sliced twice today and I like how you turn this apple-disaster into a chance for something new- bags and learning, both!
I especially love your ending. Endings that feel satisfying for both reader and writer are hard to craft.