This slice is part of of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
For some reason I started reorganizing my desk area today. Soon enough, I hated it all. I want to declutter, but that’s a summer job, not a my kids are at special job.
“I hate this all.” I said to my student teacher and my partner teacher. I picked up a big golden bell that I’ve had for years.
“That’s a great bell.” One of them said to me right as I said, “Should I throw this away?”
Of course they were shocked, why would I throw such a great bell away?
“Do you use it?” My partner teacher asked.
I rang it and said, “I used to. It’s a great bell. But, it says ‘# 1 Teacher: Ms. Feinberg’ on it.”
We talked briefly about how we might re-label my bell so it would not have my old married name on it. But alas, it is carved into metal. I put it back on my shelf to think about later, and went to get something in the hallway where I saw the para next door.
She asked how I was, and of course, I said, “I’m fine but I started organizing and now I hate everything and probably need to throw away my bell.” I have this problem of actually answering how I am when people ask.
I marched back in my room, grabbed my bell, told my para I was throwing it away. She was aghast. Like I said, it’s a great bell. But when I showed her the name on the bell, she understood.
I thought there should be some ceremony to this, so I took a picture, rang the bell one last time and threw it away.
Decluttering is like divorce I guess.
I have lots of ways to expand on that analogy, but I’ll let you make your own analogy adventure.
This slice is part of of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
“So this all started with a hug,” the doctor said just a couple of hours ago.
I laughed and said maybe I’d write a story called that: “It started with a hug.”
I had just told him that my 18 year old had lifted me in a bear hug on Sunday, and I had been in excruciating pain since an hour after that.
Before that, I had told the x-ray technicians the story. Before that, I had told the LPN the story. Before that, I had told the RN the story. Before that, I had told my chiropractor the story. He popped my rib back in place, told me to ice it every hour, and to come back on Friday.
Way before that I had told my son, “If I have to go to the doctor because of this and tell them this embarrassing story I’m going to be very upset.”
The respiratory specialist getting my EKG ready actually loved the story. She said her brother still lifts up her mom all the time. We laughed about how teenagers are either ignoring you, or hugging you until you break.
The LPN said, “Well, you’re still young. When you are elderly, that will definitely crack a rib. It’s why we don’t like to perform CPR on the elderly. They say they want all of the things, but…”
Speaking of quotable quotes, the doctor said to me, very seriously, “I’m going to turn my brain off for this one, and just pretend it doesn’t make sense that you chest hurts after that hug. I mean, how strong is your son, do you think you have multiple fractures or something? It’s probably just some discomfort, but we’ll just do the full chest pain protocol.”
I couldn’t let it slide, so I smiled sweetly and said, “Oh good. That’s just what I like my doctors to say about their brains.”
Good news! My ribs aren’t cracked, I don’t have random pneumonia, and my heart was not attacking. It was an annoying 4 hours at the hospital, but at least I know that this is most likely just a muscle strain, taking its time to heal. Oh, and also the hospital has a stronger NSAID than advil, so I think that’s helping too.
Not so good news. . . I’m not sure the doctor will ever turn his brain back on.
This slice is part of of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
Another person asked me today, “How long until you can retire?” So basically now I have a complex. I mean, I’m using the under eye cream my daughter gave me for Christmas, so what’s going on, folks?
I drove by my old street today and told my dog, “Hey! That’s where I used to live when I was a kid, right there.” I pointed and he turned his head to look out of the window. Totally normal, nothing to see here.
Somehow today I didn’t do any school work. None! This should feel relaxing, but it turns out… not so much. I guess it doesn’t matter how much you work during Spring Break, you still won’t feel ready for school to start again.
Today my son flew back from Spain, he’s on his way from JFK right now so I am playing a little game called “How much TV can I watch to pass the time?” In other news, there are never enough Thin Mint cookies, and it doesn’t really matter how many you buy.
This slice is part of of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
“What time are we leaving?” That’s the question my son asked me last night.
“Well, maybe 7:00 but it will feel like 6:00.” I told him.
He rolled his eyes, “Not more of the ‘it will feel like stuff.’”
At dinner my dad had said, “It will be hard to leave early because waking up at 6:00 you lose an hour. But, traveling home will be nice because you pretty much gain an hour.”
I think this might be why calendar math is hard for me.
But, I figured out what he meant. 6:00 a.m. feels like 5:00 a.m., and that’s going to make a person sleepy. But 6:00 p.m. feels like 5:00 p.m., and that means more daylight for driving. Yay!
Before I went to bed I set up the coffee, of course. It was 11:00 p.m. Daylight savings hadn’t started yet. But I really couldn’t figure out what time I wanted to set the coffee to brew, with all the time travel that was about to happen while I was sleeping.
So I cheated and set the coffee clock ahead an hour. Suddenly 11:00 p.m. was 12:00 a.m. I wonder if the scientists know how easy it is to travel to the future.
I joked to my sister that now I was worried. What if I forgot that I already set the coffee maker clock ahead. In the morning I might accidentally set it ahead again! What if I kept forgetting! Soon my local time could match my son’s as he’s traveling in Spain!
So, you’re wondering, I’m sure, how this all worked out this morning.
Well, it’s 7:04 a.m. and it feels, somehow like it’s 5:30 a.m.
I hit snooze from 6:00 – 6:45, either because it felt like 5:00 – 5:45, or because I went to sleep at 11:30, which felt like 12:30. We will never know.
I don’t think we are leaving at 7:00, because it’s already past that. But, I guess if I wanted to I could just change the clocks back so we are on time. Now that I understand time travel.
So many clocks just automatically change now that that plan probably won’t work.
Years ago our kitchen clock was up so high, and my then-husband and I probably both had undiagnosed ADHD, that mostly we just waited daylight savings out with that clock. For months the clock would just be an hour off, but lucky for us, when the clocks changed again, we didn’t have to change that one. It was already right.
Well it’s 7:11 a.m., and I’ve had my coffee so it feels more like 6:45 now. I think we might be able to leave the house before 8:00, which will feel maybe like 7:00.
The trip to visit my daughter is 4 hours long. I wonder if today it will feel more like 3.
That’s how this Daylight Savings thing works, right?
This slice is part of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
I might have cried a couple times today.
Did you know that kids don’t really know Puff, the Magic Dragon anymore? Well they don’t. Yet another reason I am feeling O. L. D.
Today someone wanted to use the word puff in a poem and I said, “Puff? Like the magic dragon?”
I got blank stares all around although one kid said, “Yea, I think so…”
So I sang a little bit of it, feeling old, wondering why we don’t play a little Peter Paul and Mary anymore.
It was fun to sing with the kids – well not with, but to the kids. Even through they looked at me like I may have finally lost my mind.
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff And brought him strings, and sealing wax, and other fancy stuff
So cheery! A magic dragon! But, when’s the last time you listened to that song?
Because, it’s a sad one, dude! SAD!
A dragon lives forever, but not so little boys Painted wings and giant’s rings make way for other toys One gray night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more And Puff, that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar
His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave So Puff, that mighty dragon, sadly slipped into his cave
I might have started tearing up as soon as I sang, “A dragon lives forever, but not so little boys!”
Did I tell you that tomorrow my little boy travels to Spain for like a million days? (Okay, he’s 18 and it’s for a week and a half.)
Today, I might have cried when I was telling him how proud I am of him for all his hard work lately.
Today, I might have cried telling my parents how anxious I was about him traveling so far away.
But my first cry was this morning when I accidentally started singing Puff, the Magic Dragon. So I’m blaming Peter Paul and Mary, I guess.
This slice is part of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
My “now stop your couch coffee and get up to get ready for school” alarm just blasted on my phone. But, my cat is so cute and sweet and I’m not done with my coffee and also what if I wrote instead of rushing to shower?
Maybe I can pause this morning before I start.
It’s quiet here in my family room, I can only hear the noise of my heater kicking on, and the cat is purring and doing that little squeak meow she likes to do. Aside from those quiet noises, it’s just me, and the clicking of my keyboard. Morning ASMR, I guess.
Any minute the dog will realize I left the bed and I’ll hear his tap tap tap coming down the stairs. I’ll take him out, even though I’m cold just thinking about it. I’ll feed the cat and the dog, grab my laundry from the dryer and head upstairs. I’ll shower and get dressed in my spirit day animal print. (Can you believe I have animal print?) I’ll wake up the teenagers, remind them that it’s trash day, reheat my coffee, cut up an apple to bring to school, fill up my water, yell to the kids to please, for goodness sake come down and give me a hug before I leave. “Don’t forget to take out the trash and recycling!” I’ll probably say, before adding another “I love you! Have a good day!” You can never have enough of those Love You’s called out to grouchy morning teenagers, you know? Then I’ll rush out the door, at least 10 minutes later than I had originally hoped, drive to school with my morning music blasting, and the Monday at school will officially start. I’ll be teaching kids in an hour and a half or so – and that hour and a half will go so very quickly.
Now the cat has gone off to do her cat things again, my coffee got cold halfway through the cup, and I might have heard the dog jump off the bed. But I think the sun is starting to light the morning, so it must be time to actually stop my couch coffee and get up to get ready for school.
But it sure was peaceful, my fleeting morning pause.
This slice is part of the Slice of Life on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’m slicing on as many Tuesdays as I can. I hope you’ll join me.
My therapist insists I’m not lazy But she hasn’t seen my corner cabinet
It’s been organized, I swear But the Tupperware – which is actually Chinese Food containers mostly – It just falls wherever it wants, also do you expect me to lift the smaller ones to put the larger ones underneath every time?
It’s a Lazy Susan cabinet which what the heck lazy is in it’s name I wonder what Susan’s therapist thinks about that
This morning every morning when I walked into the kitchen, I saw Lazy Susan had swung open Not only does she drop my lids into her abyss She also can’t stay closed to save her life
Or maybe I didn’t close her last night
And I wondered if my cabinet is trying to teach me something like patience or patience adjacent like perseverance determination or maybe not to keep all the Chinese Food leftover containers or maybe to stop overthinking, you’re thinking
Don’t get me started on my bottom drawer The baking drawer Where cocoa powder spilled I think a year ago Luckily, I don’t have time for baking anymore
This slice is part of the Slice of Life on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’m slicing on as many Tuesdays as I can. I hope you’ll join me.
Years ago when I was a coach, a first-grade teacher told me she loved moving to first grade from the upper grades once her own kids were older.
She had an eloquent way of explaining it, and I don’t want to misquote her… but it had something to do with how primary kids still show you how they love you and need you and think you’re great.
Teenagers…well… not so much.
Living by myself with my two amazing teenagers is something.
Wow.
Thank goodness I go to school every day with 6,7 and 8 year olds who draw me pictures, want me to tell them stories, and to listen to all the parts of their day. My students more often than not think I have the right answer. They even laugh at my jokes and love my songs!
I’ll say it again, every day 19 kids laugh at my jokes, love my songs, and learn from the things I teach them.
And then I go home.
If you ever need to knock someone’s self-worth, self-confidence, self-esteem down several pegs, I recommend having them become a single-mom to a few teenage boys.
Most days I’m reminded in multiple ways from a few of my most favorite people, that I’m not funny, not cool, not smart, not right, and that in fact, I’m ruining their otherwise fine day in some way.
I’d love to pivot here and tell you about the good parts to. I’d love to tell you how when we had our recent power outage those very same teenage boys helped change smoke detector batteries, find flashlights and take the dog out in the dark-no-street-lights-no-porch-lights-no-house-lights night. But, this is no place to write about the nice times.
Instead, I’ll have you imagine that power outage, and how one of the only flashlights I could find was my old headlamp. So I wore it around the house, as I tried to make sure we were doing all the things we needed to do, and taking care of all the things we needed to take care of.
“Why are you acting so crazy about this?” One teenager kept asking me.
“It’s not that deep.” I was reminded.
And my favorite…
“Why do you have that on your head? You look like a f!@#ing angler fish.”
This slice is part of the Slice of Life on Two Writing Teachers! #sol24. I’m slicing on Tuesdays. I hope you’ll join me!
This morning my son went to get us Starbucks’s. I mean, he drove. I paid. That’s how things work around here. “Should I order on my phone or yours?” He said, like some sort of master negotiator
When he got back he was sorry to be late he had seen a bear cross the street, tried to follow it a bit, lost sight as it sauntered into the trees by the bus stop.
“I guess. . . Make a lot of noise when you go to the bus,” I said because we are not afraid of bears here I mean, it’s not like a man was running towards the bus stop
I left my Starbucks refresher for later carried my dry laundry upstairs thought about how I should have taken the dog’s barks more seriously last night instead of telling him okay, yelling at him to chill out about the neighbor’s cat oops
After my shower I proudly started to put my clothes away in the closet like I imagine real grown-ups do in the morning before school before school! I imagine those real grown-ups might not scream for their 17 year old when a creepy crawly bazillion leg bug crawls out of the pants they are about to fold But I did I screamed then told myself I can do this I can do this I can do this I don’t need a husband Who probably wouldn’t have helped anyway I can catch this thing in something something something I need something I turned to find that something something something there must be something on my dresser
I’m not a bug squasher, not a bug killer I’m more catch and release less murder
But when I turned back around the bug was gone – he will never know how nice I was going to be but now, I thought… I’ll write it, even though I don’t want to That bug had to be somewhere in my bed I yelled for my son to come help me again “Bring a vacuum or we have to sell our house!”
I tried to carefully shake the blankets my dog looked at me confused my cat ran under the bed my son warned me to be careful! you might touch it! it’s going to jump out of there! I didn’t get far in my quest it was time to go to school
So later I will decide Strip the bed, vacuum, look in every cranny or sleep on the couch?
Lucky for me help must be on the way because after school I found not the bug but the boys’ wanted poster they must have made before catching the bus HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BUG? LAST SEEN: MOM’S PANTS So although it may be true that apparently we are more scared of bugs than bears here we also know how to laugh in the face of fear and make clever wanted posters
It’s April, and I’ve been writing poetry …all month! Thanks to Ethical ELA for all the great prompts and inspirations!
On a Thought 