All posts by onathought

A slice of motherhood

Family, Slice of Life

Slice of LIfe

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for information and links to more Slicing!

Do you know that quote about having children? That it is “…forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” (Elizabeth Stone said this, the internet is telling me). Ever since becoming a mother, I have felt that quote to be true. Lately I have been struck by how much this love is heartbreakingly strong. It must be universal, this feeling… right?

Does it bring you to tears, to watch your 4 year old “read” a superhero book to himself in bed? When he asks you if Superman is okay with the green kryptonite or red, do you interrupt him just to kiss his cheeks some more? When he asks you if Santa gives the kind of legos that come with directions, do you wrinkle your face up because his four year old voice melts your heart? When he climbs back into your bed in the middle of the night, without waking you, are you so cozy to find him there in the morning? Do you give him kisses and hugs early in the morning, not even worrying if it wakes him up?

Do you stop to stare at your 7 year old, who squeezed himself between you and your daughter on the couch? Do you want to freeze time as you put your arm around him and listen to him talk about the toys in the catalog he is looking through? When he tests your patience while testing the limits, do you want to just stop the presses and tickle him? Do you make him promise that he will always hug you and snuggle you for the rest of forever, even though you know that one day he will be grown up, and too cool, and far too busy? When he climbs into your bed early in the morning, do you send a thank you to the universe for such a miracle to have him?

When your very own middle schooler says “Wait, didn’t you say this would be the time I’d be all mean, and say ‘I hate you?'” do you want to say, “Well, I guess we skipped that, phew!” (Even though you know that day is coming….)  Do you hit pause and attack her with the tightest hugs? Does she still look like your baby to you? Are you worried about her getting all independent? Do you know that she has to learn to be a responsible young adult, but still want to hold her hand while she does it? Does she tell you she’ll miss you on her field trip? Do you tell her that she’ll be fine, and have fun, and that she can handle walking around with a group of peers with no group chaperone? Do you mean, “Of course you’ll miss me! I should be with you! You need a chaperone! There are all kinds of scary things that can happen!” Do you reel in your anxiety to help her grow up? When she wakes up Saturday morning and makes her way down the hall to see if you are up, do you hope there are millions of years left where she will be beside you?

Do you let your kids fall asleep in your bed because it’s nice to be all together at the end of the busy day? Do you sneak in to check them before falling asleep? Do you send a prayer of love and hope it wraps them in safety?

Does your heart ache?

 

Celebrating Play

Celebrate, Reflections on teaching

celebrate-image

I’m participating in Ruth Ayres Celebrate This Week. Check out the link up here.

On our field trip this week, I sent my students off with vague directions to make nature art a la Andy Goldsworthy. I told them the boundary of where they could look for supplies, and where they could create their art. We brainstormed a few examples before sending them on their way: Fairy houses, designs, pictures…

I expected them to grab a few leaves, maybe some rocks and twigs. I expected them to have a little fun, maybe. I knew this was a new kind of creative activity and I just wanted them to explore the idea.

I didn’t expect them to play with the idea. I didn’t expect them drag huge fallen tree branches into the clearing.  Watching them figure out the physics of balancing these branches was something to celebrate. Watching them rise above my tiny field trip expectations was something to celebrate.

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I didn’t plan ahead of time for the amount of collaboration, introspection, and problem solving that was involved with this project. I didn’t even write objectives for this field trip activity. (Shhhh…) I did the station on the field trip because it sounded fun, and like a respite from the hike, the team building, the canoeing and the scavenger hunt

Today I’m reflecting on the activity and celebrating the play. I don’t forget that my 6th graders are kids, but sometimes we get too busy to play, and sometimes I let people and situations convince me that these kids don’t want to play. But, it’s not true. Not only do they want to play, they need to. If the play was just a break, they would still need it. If the play was just for fun, they would still need it. But it isn’t.  Play is their work, their research, their practice.

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“Play is the work of the child.”
– Maria Montessori
“Play is the highest form of research.”
– Albert Einstein
“Play gives children a chance to practice what they are learning.”
– Mr. Rogers

A slice of mindfulness

Reflections on teaching, Slice of Life

Slice of LIfe

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for information and links to more Slicing! 

“Wait! We didn’t do mindfulness today.” A student reminds me as we are about to get started on some social studies reading.

I was at a training this morning, so my classes missed doing mindfulness. I am so happy that they missed it, that they wanted to do it. They are noticing the peace, I think. “Do you want to do it now or after the activity?” I ask

“Now!” the majority answer.

Like usual, we settle in. I ask the students to get comfortable, “Criss cross applesauce works for most people” I find myself saying (almost every day).  “Your eyes are closed, my eyes are open. Settle yourselves. Be still. Begin to notice your breathing.” I look around and I see them settle. There are a few in each of my classes who still struggle with the settling part. Their legs can’t seem to stop moving for very long, or they are forcing their eyes to be shut because they really really really want to open them.

They have gotten so much better though, in the past couple of weeks. In the beginning,  I had to remind myself that this wasn’t last year’s class that already knew how to do it. But the results are stunning, anecdotally, of course.

In my hour + math period, we do a minute or two of yoga and then a minute or two of mindfulness, and some days we try to take a brain break by running off some steam outside. Last week I reflected on the difference between the day that we missed the mindfulness and the day that we missed the break. The day that we missed the mindfulness was not a good day: My students struggled with keeping focused. It was then that I realized that maybe this mindfulness was better than I had thought. It’s hard to give even 2 minutes to something that isn’t directly related to academics, but these few minutes a day seem to be working.

I look around at the quiet faces of my class, and feel lucky for this moment of quiet. I know the research says that this quiet mindfulness is good for their academics, their self-regulation, their focus, and for decreasing stress and anxiety. But at this moment, I just feel grateful for the peaceful calmness we are fostering in our classroom. It feels like a gift.

Later, settling in at home, I will come across a great article on edutopia where Meena Srinivasan is talking about her book called Teach, Breathe, Learn: Mindfulness In and Out of the Classroom. I will read her reasons for practicing mindfulness in the classroom, and I will feel so relieved that I’m not crazy for just being grateful for the peace. I can’t wait to read her book. She says,

“Mindfulness is empowering because it helps us see that in every moment we have a choice; we can choose to be more skillful, and there are concrete strategies that can help us bring more peace, love, and joy into our lives.”

A (few) Slice(s) of Homework

Family, Reflections on teaching, Slice of Life

Slice of LIfe

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for information and links to more Slicing! 

“I feel so…good! Mommy. I don’t know if you know this feeling…when you get something done. Not the homework kind of done, but a good deed.”

H started 2nd grade this year. I wish you could have seen him before school started. He was ready to be a second grader: So excited to go to school. He loves learning, and his curious creativity drives him daily (in and out of the classroom). He started school at the end of August, and he still loves it. His teacher is also curious and creative, and she seems to get him, which is nice. It is especially nice because the teacher he had for kindergarten and first grade is what I would call an angel of a teacher, and I’m sure she will never be topped. (My love letter to her is a different post.) So we had  wondered how the transition to a new teacher would go.  This year, H said, just a few days in… “I know that I have Tr. R for second grade and third grade, but I should probably have her for fourth grade too.”  Okay then! 2 awesome teachers in a row, who could ask for anything more?

I guess I can. I can ask for no homework. H gets math each night, and then a selection of other homework assignments, given over the weekend and due on different dates. Make no mistake, the homework assignments are interesting and worthwhile assignments. There is a night of reading. Some weekends we have been good at getting all the assignments done so that we don’t have to worry about them during the week. I like spending time with my children, and sometimes the time we spend doing homework is enjoyable. Tonight I sat with H as he did his math. The practice was easy for him, so he spent some of his energy being creative. “Look, I can write my ‘o’clock zeroes’ with sideways 8’s!”  We smiled and laughed and practiced some clock math. It was not a bad way to spend 15 minutes.

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Other times have not been so peaceful. More than once H has said, “I hate school.” You know when he says that? When it’s time to do homework. It is usually a battle. “You can do that after you do you homework,” is a phrase Mr. Thought and I say a lot around here.  My middle school daughter loves school too. She struggles with some math concepts, and some might say that is why she should do more homework. But I’m not so sure. She has been working at school all day. She comes home and needs some down time. She needs some time to play, practice her piano, eat dinner, talk with us, help with chores. She needs to get ready for bed… There are only so many hours in the day. Several nights last week she ended the night upset that she hadn’t had any time to read. Now part of this is her own time management skills, for sure…but I have been waiting for her to catch the reading bug, and hate to see her not reading because she’s practicing long division. More than once she has said, “I don’t need extra help with my long division, I just don’t like math. I don’t care about it.” I’m thinking 15 practice problems at the end of a long day aren’t going to make her care about math.

Full disclosure: I have a problem with homework in the elementary and middle school years. For the past month or so, I have been noticing slices of our homework life at my house. I have read The Homework Myth by Alfie Kohn. I have read numerous other articles and research summaries about homework, and I have seen friends’ postings on Facebook. I am not alone in my dislike of homework.

I know. Some students like it. Some families feel it is important. Sometimes the practice benefits the student whether they enjoy it or not. I know. I know the pressure in my own teaching: So much curriculum, so much to do. There isn’t enough time. Ever. 

Two weeks ago, I gave my students a timeline assignment. They had some time in class to work, and I told them they would need to go over their timeline with their families to help with the facts, etc. I assigned a due date. The day before the due date I had a different activity planned… so much curriculum to get through, you know. But then I noticed that students needed more time, and I asked myself: If this activity wasn’t worth class time, why was I assigning it? Why would it be worth home time? I scratched my plans for that period, and gave them that extra hour to work. (It was worth the time, by the way – getting to know your students through an authentic activity is, I believe, always worth the time.)

I wonder about homework. If we give practice homework that kids aren’t independent in, then they may practice the wrong thing, or struggle through an understanding in a way that causes more frustration than it is worth. If they are already independent in a skill,  do they need that practice? If we give the same homework to every student, how is that differentiation? But if we take the time to differentiate, is that amount of time worth it for homework that they will be doing without our observation and support? If research studies aren’t showing that doing homework before high school leads to better study skills and organization, is it worth the headache? If homework is practice, is it something that you should ethically be counting in a grade that is meant to show how well a student understands? (Check out Rick Wormeli’s thoughts on grading homework here.) If homework does help academics, what gives schools the right to dictate a student’s time at home?

It should be enough that research doesn’t support homework. It should be enough that the majority of parents don’t want their kids to be doing work during family time. (See this study, where at my last check, 75% of parents wanted a “no homework” policy) It should be enough that kids work all day. But for some reason, we still do it because “We’ve always done it this way.” 

If you were to look into a window of my children’s time at home, you would see what might look like a mess of legos and playdoh, paper, markers, dress up, dolls. . .  Sometimes we spend a day on a beautiful family hike.

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To be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t want homework even if all my kids did in their free time was play. I believe in the power of play and that for kids, playing is their work. However they aren’t just playing. By 1:00 this past Sunday afternoon, H had already done the following non-homework activities: Cleaned and reorganized his bedroom, sorted legos with his 4 year old brother, researched how our cat goes downstairs by videotaping him in slow motion on my phone, and measured and figured out the timing of our ceiling fan. He slowed down for a snack and some time hanging out with Mr. Thought. L, my 10 year old, had a similarly busy and productive day, in addition to reading her current chapter book.

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I watched H’s slow motion video of our cat on Sunday afternoon, and hated that I had to say, “Hey! you could write about this in your research journal homework!” He didn’t want to open his backpack, but I made him. We printed out a picture, and glued it in.photo 1

I hope I didn’t teach him that the only learning that counts is the stuff you do for other people. I hope he’s right, that a picture is fine, he doesn’t need to write for each entry.

Instead of worrying about it, I settled in with my tissues and water (go away, cold!) and listened as Mr. Thought read Harry Potter to us.

A slice of scattered; A scattered slice

Reflections on teaching, Slice of Life

Slice of LIfe

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for information and links to more Slicing! 

I’ve gone back to google 3 or 4 times in the past few minutes, always with a mission: find the lunch duty schedule so I can organize the team’s recess duties… And each time I go back to it, I open a different document. It’s not that I am wasting time on pinterest here, I am opening my reading plan notes,  my conference schedule (and okay, once I opened facebook instead – but that was worthwhile, as I found this all about using bubble gum, and my partner teacher is planning a bubble gum lesson, so I believe that’s what you call kismet…) (Oh – and okay, this last time, I opened the document but then came here to write my slice…) I just have so many things to do and my mind feels scattered.

At school I’m teaching, helping students with lockers, walking around getting people where they need to go, having meetings and occasionally stopping to pee (sidebar: It’s such a good day when there’s a stall with a clean floor, clean seat AND toilet paper, don’t you think?) My planning period is late in the day, and when my meetings are over, and I finally sit at my table, my mind is still going a mile a minute, trying to prioritize the one billion things that need to get done. I begin to work, and the students are back from Phys. Ed.

After school, I take a walk to try to clear my head (and get a wee bit of exercise… more than the constant circling of tables in my box — I mean classroom.) I change my schedule, have a conversation with my instructional coach, and pack up. Home by 5:20.

Washing lunch boxes, making dinner, eating dinner, cleaning up, making lunches, going outside to see the (amazing!) double rainbow and getting the kids showered, jammied, brushed, cuddled and read to (Harry Potter 5!) take me all the way until around 9:30… which is when I start… morning letters for tomorrow, finalizing plans, checking and responding to emails… and attempting to open that google doc, or the other one.

Then I realize it’s Tuesday, and this is my slice: My brain, the second week of school. I know this work is worth it – every extra thing I do to help my students build a strong community is worth it. Every email I write to parents, every well thought out plan for my reader’s notebooks — All worth it. But this exact moment, my eyes want to close, and my brain is too scattered. So I will take the advice I know you, dear reader, are thinking while you read this: Go to bed! Get some Sleep! Then, fully rested: make a list!

What other advice do you have? How do you keep your brain from getting scattered these first weeks of school?

 

A slice of the first day

Reflections on teaching, Slice of Life

Slice of LIfe

Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for information and links to more Slicing! 

First Day Eve

Bookshelves ready, plants watered
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Activities planned

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Objectives written on the board (!)
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Photo booth props gatheredImage 9

Name tags strung

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Plans reviewed, teacher tosses and turns, plans reviewed again

First Day of School

Ready or not!

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What a day! A Feet hurt, busy brain, decision making,  smile laughing, locker opening day! I am looking forward to creating this new learning community with my students! At the end of a busy day, I can’t help but feel that I have the luckiest job on earth.

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A slice of Almost

#bookaday, Slice of Life

Slice of LIfe Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for information and links to more Slicing! 

 

I love the ocean. I love all bodies of water, but to me the ocean is the absolute. I must admit that when I’m enjoying a lake or a dam or even a bay, I’m also thinking that it is beautiful and peaceful and calm because it is almost like an ocean. I look at the ripples as the water meets the sand or dirt, and I compare them to ocean waves. I strain my ears to hear the sounds of the water, hopeful to feel the same sense of peace that I get from the sounds of the sea crashing wave after wave.

On our beach vacation last week, I took a short bike ride (all by myself! amazing!) and came to  a trail head near the marsh. The marsh has always been a beautiful piece of scenery at the beach. But the main attraction is the ocean.  As I rode down the one lane gravel path, I watched the grasses sway and wave in the wind. I thought about how this place wasn’t beautiful because it was almost an ocean. It was an ocean.

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An ocean of bright green vegetation, and birds and soft wind. This idea of “almost an ocean” played over and over in my mind as I rode. I started to list in my mind all of the things that I am almost (almost a runner, almost reading a book a day, almost vegan, almost did enough school work this summer, almost finished cleaning the house before I left, almost relaxing on my vacation).  I guess I am a marsh – almost an ocean.  I saw that ahead of me was some water, and when I got to it, I laughed. Image 7

A beach. It was peaceful, quiet aside from bird calls and breeze. I didn’t  find myself thinking about how it was almost an ocean. I didn’t try to hear the waves, or put my feet in the sand. I just stood there and breathed in the beauty.

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I wondered about my almosts.  I turned them around in my mind like the marsh beach. Not almosts anymore, but things I know I am.  I know I run,  I’m reading a ton, I eat a plant based diet, I have worked on schoolwork this summer, my house is fine. I’m relaxing. Right now!

No doubt, my deep thoughts on my bike ride were thanks to having just finished Absolutely Almost  by Lisa Graff.  Have you read this book? You should. You will fall in love with Albie, and maybe start thinking about your “almosts.”  You might find that you can use the life reminder from Lisa Graff’s Albie, “You couldn’t get where you were going without knowing where you’d been. And you couldn’t be anywhere at all without having been almost there for a while.”

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Mental pictures?

Family

My mom stopped by for coffee this morning, bringing a big bowl of freshly picked blueberries. Each of my kids had been up for awhile working on the legos they got with their allowance money last night, and the house was (mostly) quiet.

Confession: I’m not so great at legos. I love them, and I love that my kids love them, and I just haven’t gotten good at my spacial reasoning skills yet.

My mother, however, is awesome at stuff like this.  So it was Granny to the rescue when my youngest was trying to figure out what went wrong with his lego truck building. As they worked on the truck together, I sat and watched. My mom carefully put the stickers on the truck, and I was reminded of all the times she put the stickers on my toys when I was a kid, because she liked to do it and because I just couldn’t seem to get them on straight enough!

I didn’t have my phone near me, so I tried to take a mental picture of the two of them working together, my 4 year old and my mom.  Mental Pictures.  I try to stop and appreciate a lot of small moments in my life. There are so many tiny precious times with my kids and with my parents and with my friends. I’m so grateful for each moment. But my recall of these mental pictures is horrible.

People like to complain about all the picture taking parents these days do. We carry cameras or iPhones around and snap away. Sometimes I worry that I might be missing a moment because I am taking a picture. I make fun of myself because of how often I have to take my pictures off of my phone because there’s no space left. But maybe it’s nothing to complain about. I’m not escaping the moment by trying to snap a quick picture. I am trying to preserve the moment, because maybe if I have enough pictures I won’t forget all these times.

My kids are growing up, and there are no babies left in this house. Even though my youngest is only 4, I already have a hard time recalling that feeling of picking up and snuggling a baby. I know I took mental pictures and soaked up that feeling. So where did my mental pictures go? Did I forget to make a snapfish album of my mental pictures? (I guess I should hire a professional, like Jim & Pam…)

Until I figure it out, I’ll carry my phone around (or go grab it when I need it) and I will take pictures of those small moments that I want to remember.

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What about you? Do you stop and appreciate the small moments? Take mental pictures? Take so many real pictures your phone gets full too quickly?

A slice of the turning point

Reflections on teaching, Slice of Life

Slice of LIfe Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for information and links to more Slicing! 

Summer Turning Point

Summer starts with an exhale 
I hug my students and say goodbye
pack up my classroom
find space in and above cabinets for last minute papers, books, markers, games, dice... 
I throw files into the nearest box
I finish grades
finally
I shred papers and 
sigh as
the accumulated stress and worry knot rises 
almost ready to leave but 
staying still
waiting 
stagnant
I want the knot to
peter out
dwindle
go away
but I wonder
when will I stop feeling behind? 
(Spoiler Alert: Never) 

Summer continues with tired
and people asking me all the time
"Are you enjoying your summer? It must be so nice!" 
"All of that time!"
"I'm sure it's great to have so much time with your kids."
Time.
Yes.
It is nice.
I have time
to read 
and I relax, swim, read, and play more than I do during the school year
I write
in the middle of the day
and I parent all day long
which is (sometimes) lovely  
I feel grateful for all of this
time with my children

Summer
I wonder when the switch will happen 
Now I read curriculum books from my to-read stack
in between fiction and swimming and playmobil 
These teaching books are great
but it feels like work
I want 
to find myself planning 
joyfully for August

Around July 4 I have my first back to school nightmare
I realize how much of my to do list is still left waiting
I force myself to get things done
I plan, I print, I update and organize

Then I make myself chill out

It is a quiet surprise
when the turning point happens

I find myself creating a google doc to organize my thoughts on Reader's Workshop 
I pick up, and reread, leaf through, sticky note, and mark up my favorite teaching books 
I surround myself with inspiration: Donalyn Miller, Penny Kittle, Stephanie Harvey and Franki Sibberson 
I lie in bed and plan wonderopolis, current events, poetry responses and library book chats
I jot teaching notes on my iPhone, and email colleagues random questions and thoughts
I drive home and my mind rearranges classroom bookshelves

Summer will end with an inhale
a blank slate
there are weeks to go 
and I will not rush it
days with my kids are sweet
sometimes they all get along and play 
the weather is perfect for swimming 
there's still some summer left
It took a while for last year's exhale
but now 
I'm looking forward 

But really. 
No rush!