Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers.

Notice these mountains.

I used to drive south on my way to teach 2nd grade. It was my first year teaching, and I would marvel each morning about how lucky I was: Best job in the world, best valley to drive through on my 20 minute commute… to the best school in the world. I’d look out and see the fields, the mountains, the sky and I would breathe it all the way in.

I changed schools.

They built a bypass.

I became a mom.

I noticed the mountains just a little less.

I moved 25 minutes away, where I can drive 4 minutes through a very pretty forest neighborhood to get to school. I don’t have time to marvel. I barely have time to transition my brain from mommy to teacher. Sometimes there is time to remind myself how lucky I am to have gained those 20 minutes of commuting time. Sometimes I miss those 20 minutes of quiet, or music, planning or mindfulness.

Early this morning before school,  I drove my cat to the vet: north on the road I used to drive south on to get to my first classroom. There must have been something about that early morning mountain fog.

I noticed the mountains.

They were magic in the clouds. The first sunlight hit them perfectly. You know the sight. The green explosion of early summer, muffled perfectly with early morning haze. I remembered those drives to my first classroom. I thought briefly of the early hours (and the late ones too). But mostly I just noticed the mountains. They didn’t have to mean anything, but I loved noticing them– the way they hit the rolling hills, the farmers fields.

Later today my son and I went the same way to pick up my cat.

“I love the mountains.” I mentioned to H.

“I love the rolling hills.” I added.

And we laughed, and sang.

“I love the mountains.
I love the rolling hills.
I love the flowers.
I love the daffodils.
I love the fireside.
When all the lights are low.

Boom dee ah dah. Boom dee ah dah…”

“That’s one of my favorite old camp songs.” I told my son.

“Me too.” H said. “We usually sing it as a round in my class.”

So we did.

And I noticed the mountains, I noticed the joy of the camp song. I noticed my son’s smile as he said “Hey! That was pretty good!”

I noticed the slice, and I promised myself I would write it.

 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 teacher is sincere and she loves my son.  “He’ll be fine when he finds his tribe,” she said matter-of-factly at a parent-teacher conference in the fall. I’ve been thinking about that comment ever since. I want him to find his tribe.

Some of his tribe is in this old commercial.

Some of his tribe can be found in picture books biographies about people who were different and made a difference. Albert Einstein in Odd Boy Out by Don Brown is a great example.

Today I read The Inventor’s Secret: What Thomas Edison Told Henry Ford by Suzanne Slade and I can’t wait to read it to my own kids. I’m especially looking forward to sharing it with my son the inventor, who just this morning was mixing vinegar and baking soda on the hallway rug.

In this story, you meet Thomas Edison and Henry Ford as children. They are both curious. They both got in trouble. They both found each other, and others in their “tribe.” They both made a difference.

Later in the story, Henry Ford is jealous of Thomas Edison’s success. He wants to know his secret. Finally he finds it out:  “Keep at it.” Growth mindset anyone?

The other day, my son had his feelings hurt by people he considers friends at school. It was mean. It will probably forever stay with him and shake his confidence with friendships and kindness. I want to tell you the story, but it’s his slice not mine. So instead I will read him stories, and find ways to support his crazy ideas. I will try to help him keep at it,  discover his way, and find his “tribe.”