This slice is part of the Slice of Life on Two Writing Teachers! #sol24. I’m slicing on as many Tuesdays as I can. I hope you’ll join me.
Today I will write a poem about my second graders. It will not be a lament for Wisconsin It will not be an allusion to another second grader calling 911. But rather my second grader Walking into our classroom to tell me about her sweater. It had foxes and snow and little bits of glitter. She smiled from dimple to dimple about that sweater. But rather about my second graders – Two boys counting their STAR tickets quietly while we waited for them so we could do the Pledge of Allegiance. (You know the one.) But rather about my second graders wearing hats made from roll paper as they performed Snowflake Bently. But rather about my second graders giving me an early birthday gift of beautiful pages they wrote and drew for me with crayons. Their words a beautiful combination of the spelling they have learned and the still perfect misspellings. But rather about my second grader standing on top of a pile of playground logs at recess, telling us “From where I am, I see 7 snowmen being built!” But rather about my second grader looking over at the lollipops I was quickly sorting “Boy that looks like fun,” he said. If I weren’t doing this, I’d sure like to help you sort those.” But rather about my second graders gathered on the rug to hear a story, lined up to go home, saying goodbye with a hug, handshake or high-five. But rather about my second graders. The ones I spend my days with are amazing, brilliant humans. Little kids who did not yet need to call 911 to report gunshots.
This slice is part of the Slice of Life on Two Writing Teachers! #sol24. I’m slicing on as many Tuesdays as I can. I hope you’ll join me.
We’ve been trying to practice transitioning from morning recess to writing with a little writing warm up.
Our notebooks are supposed to be on our desks before we even go out to recess, a pencil too.
“Or a pen!” My second-graders like to remind me every time I say the word pencil. Choices are important.
Today I asked them to write “In December, I am…” at the top of their page, and then to draw 3 things they are doing in December.
“I don’t know what I am in December.” Someone said to another teacher working with them later.
Me neither, buddy. Me neither.
But I drew my examples. I labeled them with captions:
In December I am reading books every day. In December I am walking Finn in the freezing, freezing cold. In December I am sitting, resting near the candlelight.
I thought to myself how funny it is that teaching writing is both telling the truth and lying at the same time.
In December I am reading books every day, yes. I am trying for at least a picture book a day this month at school. Plus, we are trying to finish Wild Robot. Two days in, and I’m doing great! 4 books already, and Wild Robot time too. But I haven’t sat on my couch and read a book for me in a very, very long time.
In December I am walking Finn in the freezing, freezing cold, yes. But not as much as I should. He’s antsy, I’m busy. It’s freezing, freezing cold out there.
In December I am sitting, resting near the candlelight. If you can call my artificial Christmas tree, pre-strung with LED lights, “candlelight.” But, I didn’t want to make my example about a specific holiday. Sometimes I do light a candle… but, do you count it as resting if you are working near the Christmas tree?
It’s storytelling time in second-grade. We are reading and writing imaginative stories, asking “What lessons can we learn from the characters in stories.”
Today I asked the kids what story they love.
“I don’t know what story specifically,” my favorite answer began, “I just know I love beautiful stories.”
Me too, buddy. Me too.
We warmed up in math with a problem to do on the number line. If I am 47 this month, and the other second-grade teacher is 26, what is the difference in our ages? I made the problem up, the number line work is solid. But it doesn’t mean I loved the answer.
“21!” They figured out.
“And that’s how old I am!” My student teacher said.
Tonight I made myself stop making my “What lessons can we learn from characters?” chart, and start packing up to go home. It was dark, late, my animals needed dinner, and I had not been successful drawing a stick figure squirrel character for the Snow Thief character’s lesson.
“The kids will do a much better job drawing the characters sketches,” I reminded myself. “Why was I taking that away from them anyway?”
I walked toward my classroom door, made sure I had everything I needed. I was ready to turn off all my little lamps with my remote. I’m so proud about remembering to do that every day.
I had to pause as I passed the Storyteller Fireplace. Our bear was sitting, waiting for tomorrow’s stories I guess.
“Goodnight Fireplace, goodnight bear.” I thought.
And then I wondered why I wasn’t stopping to take pictures of all the things in my classroom so I could go home and write a book called “Goodnight Classroom.”
Which I guess would make me the quiet old lady, whispering, “hush.”
If I’m the character in this story, I so hope there is a different lesson I might learn from my day.
On a Thought 