From my chair I see boats on lifts waiting to be lowered into grey green water rippling through a coastal waterway From my chair I watch for dolphins as they curve in and out of the water I saw them this morning But I'm feeling greedy From my chair I see an ibis a heron I think - I'm not so great with the bird names From my chair I see palm trees sway as the wind picks up the birds swoop down the water ripples and I watch for dolphins
Airboats are loud so we have cotton balls stuck in our ears. I think if you book a private tour, they give you a headset instead. Before getting in the boat we were ushered to a “show.” We came to scout for gators, but didn’t know we’d see them in captivity first.
“This is so sad,” my kids said to me and we walked over to look at the turtles, who were swimming in a dirty plastic pond, surrounded by a fence.
“At least they have each other,” I tried to offer as a consolation to my kids because I see them growing more upset in a “why are we even here giving money to this place?” kind of way.
Luckily the show was short. We met a baby alligator and a boa constrictor. The boys pet each and I took pictures. We learned a few facts about alligators and the strength of their jaws before we headed to the dock.
There were so many people, and my 15 year old was desperate to get a front row seat. It seemed disorganized, and slow. But the tour guide was finally there and he organized us in groups to see how we would get in the boat. I wondered if he ever thought of being a teacher, and soon we were on the boat, cotton balls in our ears, waiting for him to untie the ropes holding the boat to the dock.
“I’m on Florida time,” he says. “I’m on my time. That way I don’t get stressed.”
Right away there is an alligator in front of us, and the boat stops so we can all get a look. “Look now,” the guide says, “that way I won’t feel bad if this is the only gator we see the whole tour.” I hope it isn’t the only one we see, since my 12 year old dreams of seeing as many as possible.
We learn that the Everglades is the slowest moving river in the world, and I think about how the swamp feels almost exactly how I expected it to feel. Is it because the books I’ve read are so good at describing this quiet slow humidity, or am I just experiencing this through the lens of having read books that take places in swamps? Also, have I read an abundance of books that take place in swamps? I don’t think so.
We see a few more alligators, and laugh at our tour guide’s jokes.
Later we will drive through the everglades, and spot so many alligators off to the side of the road in the canal. We will stop at Big Cypress National Preserve and see even more alligators from the safety of a boardwalk. A volunteer will stop by and we will learn that gators need to rest in the sun to digest their food. Otherwise it rots in their stomach.
When we get back on the road and see more aligators as we drive by, my 12 year old will say, “I’ve seen so many alligators now, they’re just like squirrels to me.”
Captain Al described the island as uninhabitable, un-walkable, spooky
as we passed an opening where you could almost see through the first layer of twisted roots and branches
"I don't think anyone ever wrote a poem about walking through the mangrove island," he said
and I took it as a challenge
I've kayaked through mangroves
I've touched their branches to push my kayak back on course
I've passed by a crocodile, still as a rock sunning on the shore framed by mangroves
and other crocodiles too
Captain Al himself told us of the hidden prairie as we passed the last key, complete with a beach
a family used to come on and off the shore of their home there years ago
Now I learn that mangrove pods contain fully developed miniature mangroves
that float horizontally as far away from their parent tree as they can
before turning vertical and planting their roots in the muddy ground
"Seem familiar?" Captain Al asks
My dad, next to me on the boat asks if this must mean the mangrove islands keep expanding
"Oh yes," Captain Al says
"Beautiful beaches are temporary."
I probably won't ever walk through the twisting muddy mangrove island
where I might finally get a few feet in only to be greeted by a crocodile
But I can boat by
I can watch the anhingas, herons, osprey and egrets
I can peer through the branches
I can imagine walking through
And I can certainly
write a poem
I used to kayak with 6th graders once a year for 20 minutes in the small mountain lake nearby First I'd watch them all learn to row their canoes Then I'd ask for a review for myself They'd partner up in canoes I'd wait for the single kayak - teacher benefit I'd paddle around, watch out for them, listen to them learn how to cooperate with the oars I'd take pictures, take in the beauty of the water, breathe until the whistle told us it was time to bring it in "How different could it be?" I asked myself When my own 6th grader, and his 9th grade brother asked to rent kayaks in Key Largo And I was right and wrong - which is how parenting usually goes for me One wanted to go go go The other had never kayaked before - he had to learn how to paddle in between the mangroves There were debates, angry words, and much bumping into the shore I was kayaking, breathing in the beauty of the water while keeping an eye on them There hadn't been a lesson on paddling I didn't get a review - only a quick reminder of which way to face the paddle There was no whistle to tell us to bring it in Only a map they quickly handed us as we got in the boats, and an hour to get back to the marina I couldn't quite get oriented on the map, but there were usually people to follow and the boys figured out which way to go when there weren't In the middle of the journey, I put my paddle down across the kayak to take a mindful moment and watch the boys who had finally figured out how to cooperate - mostly "Don't you wish you could be here?" one of them called out to me I laughed "We are here!"
I haven't shared dried mangos on a road trip with Mardi for 2 years the math doesn't make sense -- for 2 years I haven't called her for advice or let her crunch most of the acorns on our walk She hasn't emailed me after reading this very blog for 2 years. I haven't locked eyes with her - one snarky, sarcastic joyful face to another So now, I always make sure I have dried mangos on every road trip for her I crunch every acorn I find for her I find myself writing about her again and again and of course, I make sure to be sarcastic as much as possible for her - totally just for her
Breaking News
I’ve been coaching at this school for over 5 years and I’m ready to make a big announcement.
I officially,
usually,
mostly,
can walk out of a kindergarten classroom and turn the correct way to go back to my office.
I’ll be taking questions and comments about how I have accomplished this dream in the comment section.
Thank you for your attention to my breaking news.
I love, I wonder
I love
the way the cats wait for me at the bottom of the steps in the morning
I wonder
if they start waiting at a certain time, or hear my alarm, or me, or maybe they just know what time it is?
I love
the pink and orange sunrise through the trees in my backyard
I wonder
when will the trees be green again and will it feel sudden? I don’t remember what the sunrise looks like through the trees when they are full
I love
when my coffee is perfect – smooth and creamy with a hint of maple
I wonder
will I move my quiet coffee time from the couch to the porch when it’s warm again? If I close my eyes I can feel those spring mornings
I love
quiet mornings that start with stretching, journaling, mindful light therapy before I scroll
I wonder
how long will these good habits last? How many good habits can you start at once and what good habit can I start next?
My house is quieter now-
unless the boys are wrestling or yelling at each other or singing loudly for all to hear,
unless the dog is barking
When they were babies, toddlers, preschoolers, I used to tell myself "you'll miss this noise."
I was wrong
I don't miss the noise.
well, sometimes I do
I do miss the cuddles, the chatter, the little hands, the weight of a sleeping child on my shoulder
the weight of a sleeping child on my shoulder
A quiet early morning
I remember when mornings started this early but with crying, or drumming, or a Super Friends DVD so I could sit with my coffee
I sneak downstairs early this morning, trying not to wake the dog
I tripped on a boot on the steps, and heard his doggy yoga stretch begin
I used to be scared of the dark
But somehow after betrayal, the dark isn't so scary
Outside, I breathe in the quiet and watch the dog sniff around
Until a strange noise comes from the darkness of the street
I watch my dog become more interested in the noise, and quickly bring him in
I've been expecting an owl
That was not an owl
I wait until the sun is up to try going outside again
The house is quieter
In this moment I am thankful for this mindful time to write
I miss the cuddles, the chatter, the little hands, the weight of a sleeping child on my shoulder
I get to teach phonics in kindergarten this week. Any time I get to spend with Kindergarteners is a dream come true for me, even if it is just waltzing in for 15 minutes to do some reading routines with them.
I’ve trained people on this specific reading routine program, and I’ve taught a handful of lessons, but this week I get to go every day.
“I’m just learning these routines,” I remind the kids.
I figure I may as well be transparent in my non-expertise. They know the routines much better than I do, so I get to learn too. They do such a great job, I have them give themselves a round of applause after each routine. (A round of applause is where you quietly applaud yourself while moving your hands around in a circle.) And then, I ask them to give me a thumbs up, thumbs down or thumbs to the side for how I did with the routine.
The first day, I got a bunch of thumbs-up, several thumbs to the side, and a few thumbs-down. A boy in the back gave me two thumbs down for some of my routines. I mean, he wasn’t wrong – I did struggle through a few parts.
“I see thumbs down again,” I said. “You’re right. I really do need to practice my blending routine!”
Today I got almost all thumbs-up, and a few to the side — and one still some thumbs down from the boy in the back, but not for every routine. I’m improving!
At the end of the lesson, I told the kids they needed to give themselves 3 rounds of applause.
“Threee?!?!?” someone said like I had told them they could have three cupcakes.
After their rounds of applause, I asked for one final assessment of the whole lesson and looked around the room at their thumbs.
I said “Wow! two thumbs-up from some of you!”
The boy in the back said, “I’m giving you two thumbs-up too!” Then he held up his foot and said “I’m giving you three thumbs up!”
We dismissed for recess and I followed the kids out to the hallway, feeling that lovely feeling of bonding with kids. A girl walked up to me, looked at me so sweetly, and said. “Who are you?”
I told her I’m Ms. Thought, but she can also call me Ms. Ona. I explained that only the kindergarteners call me Ms. Ona, so when she gets to first grade she’s going to have to switch to Ms. Thought.
“Ms. Ona,” she said confidently like she knew that all along. She laughed and went outside with the rest of her class.
Tomorrow’s my day. Tomorrow they will remember my name, and I will get all thumbs up!
the musings of a high school science teacher
Tales of a Doc student's readings
erratic thoughts too loud for lines
Small slices of my life, in one place!
Celebrating the Randomness of Life
On a Thought 