Category Archives: Slice of Life

Regrets of Kindness

Slice of LIfe
This slice is part of  the 17th annual Slice of Life Story Challenge on  Two Writing Teachers! #sol24 I’m slicing every day this month, for the 11th year! Wahoo!!! Thanks for stopping by. 🙂

Regrets of Kindness

Regrets
Off the top of my head

Someone once said
you don’t regret
being kind

But I kind
of do
(It’s the closest I can get to
regretting you)

I think my
anger
is a sign
here
of this regret of mine

Do you wonder
how
I could regret
being kind?

I think maybe
kindness is overrated
simply stated
it got me nothing in return

I also regret
understanding
empathizing
rationalizing

So
with no explanation
and in no particular order
I give you

a few
of
my
regrets

as I see them today

I regret
not throwing things
out of windows
out of cars
out of proportion

I regret
keeping identities quiet
not
singing them loud for all to hear
on a
stage

I regret
making
things
like excuses
time
and dinner

I regret
listening
listening
listening
listening

I regret
no 5150 no 302
I could have petitioned
I should have insisted
instead, again, I excused

We are meant to
learn from our past
regrets
no repeats
So please
from now on
expect me
to only be
kind
of a bitch

Like my shoes?

Slice of LIfe
This slice is part of  the 17th annual Slice of Life Story Challenge on  Two Writing Teachers! #sol24 I’m slicing every day this month, for the 11th year! Wahoo!!! Thanks for stopping by. 🙂

I sent my daughter a picture of these cat shoes when I decided to buy them at TJ Maxx a couple of weeks ago.

I think I said something like “I’m going to get these cat shoes and I don’t care if they aren’t cool.”

All those cats on these super comfy shoes. What’s not to love? They make me happy.

I have worn them to school a few times. They make me smile.

In fact, even just planning to wear them brings me joy.

I have gotten a few compliments on them, even. A teacher I work with said she has the dog version. I’ve had multiple conversations with people about how it’s fun to have fun, happy shoes.

These are fun, happy shoes.

Today in the middle of a meeting, I looked down at my happy shoes, and I thought to myself, “Hmmm…that decoration on the laces that I thought just said ‘Sketchers’ actually says ‘Machine Washable.’”

“I think that is actually a sticker on that decorative shoelace charm thing.” I thought

So, like I’d like to think any rational person would do during a meeting while they are sitting next to their boss, I tried to pick the sticker off.

It felt a little funny.

That’s when I realized it wasn’t a sticker on a shoelace charm. It was a cardboard tag on the laces, advertising that my shoes are machine washable.

In fact, it ripped right off.

I tore the tags off of my shoes, put the tag trash in my backpack, and went back to taking meeting notes.

I’m still laughing.

This was not the first day I wore these shoes. In fact, when I put them on the first time, I double checked that I hadn’t left a tag on the back of the shoe.

People have complimented me on these shoes. This means they have looked at them, right?

These shoes have made me smile.
And now these shoes have made me laugh…

At myself.

And wonder how many people have been laughing at me!

A Book Club Slice

Part of Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life

I’m looking across the circle at family book club. Moms and dads and their kids are sitting together, and we are sharing out to the whole group.

The kids are quiet, shy in the way kids get when it’s evening and they are with their parents and teachers and principal, all in the school library.

A third-grader seems to want to say something, but she puts her head down, shoulders up, not sure if she wants to speak. Her mom smiles at her, encouraging.

There’s something about the exchange that takes me briefly back in time.

My daughter and I went to a book club together – a Mothers and daughters book club. We met at the library every so often. We talked about a book we had read, did a craft.

We didn’t always finish the book we were supposed to read, but we went, we did the craft, we talked.

I don’t remember the books, I have a sliver of memory of one or two of the crafts.

But, I can picture the photograph of us laughing during one of those book clubs – it hangs in my parent’s house. And, I remember the feeling: sitting next to my young daughter, encouraging her to speak.

Journaling Suggestion

Part of Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life

Reminders aren’t working. Last March I set a reminder on WordPress – and I never turned it off. So every day at 10:00 in the morning, my phone notifies me that is time to blog.

Yet, I do not blog every day, or even every Tuesday.

My latest phone software update added a journaling app. I explored it a bit, and now it sends me reminders every day at 10:00 at night. “New Journaling Suggestion” it says. Every night.

Yet, I haven’t written in that journal. Not even once.

It’s a little creepy how the journaling app uses phone data to suggest things from my day that I might want to write about. Today it wonders if I might want to write about my “Afternoon visit near the dentist.”

I mean, sure. I can do that. If you insist.

I was near the dentist. Very near. Okay, I was at the dentist.

I always hope for a reason to cancel my dentist appointments, but today I just had to make myself go. Adulting, right? Later the dentist even thanked me for taking time out of my afternoon to spend with them. So I feel this appointment was like a gift I could give their whole office.

I was even early enough to do some work in the van before heading in, because why wouldn’t you use your sick time to catch up on a few things for school?

I’m not sure why I try to avoid the dentist when it’s actually fine. It’s good to get your teeth cleaned and checked! My dentist is nice, the hygienists are nice too. The one I had today hadn’t seen me since the divorce, I guess. She wondered about my name change, told me she hasn’t seen my ex husband for awhile either.

In completely unrelated news, I didn’t even ask her to jab anyone extra hard with the dental pick next time she sees them. Points for me!

The hygienist looked at a place on one of my teeth they have been keeping an eye on. She told me that all would depend on which dentist came to check on me. My usual dentist is a conservative watch and wait kind of guy. The new, fresh out of school dentist is more likely to want to do more.

My mouth was too busy to engage in a conversation about consistency of care. But I did wonder. Like if the new dentist came to check on me, and told me I needed to get a filling, could I just yell for my regular dentist? Would he hear me? Would he understand what I was saying while the new dentist’s fingers were in my mouth? Would he help me?

I worried for nothing. The new dentist was nice, definitely fresh out of school. And he isn’t worried about any of my teeth. His check up was so different from what my regular dentist usually does though. Do I just not remember having to turn my head from side to side, having my throat pressed on, the under the tongue check?

No signs of mouth cancer though. That’s what he told me anyway.

There’s something I didn’t even know to be anxious about at my dental check-ups. Cool.

Come to think of it, maybe this iPhone journaling prompt thing will come in handy in March. I would never have thought to write about going to the dentist.

Don’t worry though, I don’t plan on going back to the dentist for another 6 months.

Loud Music

Part of Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life

Loud Music. I blast it in the car. I’ve always loved loud music, wanted the sound to fill the space.

Of course, this tracked at 16. Picking up friends on the way to school, I must have slipped a cassette in. Tori Amos filled the ol’ Hyundai, but also The Doors, Nirvana, Bob Dylan, Joan Baez. I had the best mixed tapes. I’m wondering if I turned the music up or down when I pulled into the school parking lot.

Once, freshman year, I blasted Jewel in my dorm room. I don’t know why this memory pops in my head so often. Was I getting ready for something? Was my roommate there? Did the entire building hear Who Will Save Your Soul?

On my way to work these days, I choose a playlist to turn all the way up. My team started a “Hype” playlist, so that’s a good way to start a day with positivity.

Playlist poetry should be as popular as book spine poetry, don’t you think? What’s your current Playlist Poetry?

Hype!

Make Way
Good Morning
Rise Up
Rise
Be Cool
High Hopes
Glitter & Gold

Not that I am always strong enough to choose the “Hype” playlist. It takes a certain strength to set intentions like that every morning.

Sometimes my morning playlist is just a shuffle. I skip through songs until I land on the one I need. But, I don’t know the one I need until it starts. I say, “No.” to my van as I skip through, sometimes listening to a few seconds, sometimes going backwards giving a song another chance, always annoyed that the shuffle doesn’t know me better.

Morning Shuffle

I am -
no
What I am -
no
Therefore I am -
no
Unstoppable -
no

Truckin’-
no
Invincible -
no
I Will Survive -
no

Run the World (Girls) -
no
Don’t Give Up -
no

I’m the Best -
no
Mad Woman -
no
Mad Woman -
no

Exactly How I Feel -
no
Players -
no
Touch the Sky -
no
Kings & Queens-
no

Rap God

I turn the music down when I pull into the school parking lot.

I mean, not all the way down.

My son just got his license, and right before his test, the driving teacher went through an amazing list of things to know about having and using a car. She reminded him that cell phones and friends are the leading causes of accidents. She went over what emergency supplies to keep in the trunk, when to check the oil (every fourth or fifth time you get gas) and how he needs to watch a YouTube of how to change a tire and jump start a car before he’s stuck on a country road with no signal needing to do those things.

It was a great list, and I wondered how many other things have I forgotten to teach him? He’s 17. I am running out of time! Later I told him that even though I love listening to loud music in the car, as a new driver, he should not be blasting music. He needs to concentrate.

“Oh, no. I will be very focused.” He said this very seriously. He does blast music in his room some, but he also turns my car music down a lot. He might be embarrassed by my music. He is a teenager.

I’m not a teenager or in college still so I don’t know how to feel about my propensity for loud music. Is it embarrassing? I’m not sure how I’m judged for it, but I know I’ve been judged.

“Turn it down!”
”Can you turn it down?”

A few years ago I found out I had a 30% hearing loss.

Check yourself reader – did you have a moment of assumption?

“Duh. You shouldn’t have been playing all that loud music!”

But actually the hearing loss was something I was born with, they say.

So maybe my loud music is how I hear.

Maybe my loud music is
HOW
I hear

People might judge my loud music, tell me to turn it down. They may sigh with exasperation when I need them to repeat themselves.

I try to remember this feeling, remind myself that you can’t always notice other people’s struggles. I try to remember it when I sigh with exasperation at others.

I try. But I’m a work in progress. So sometimes I just turn up my music.

Too Late

Part of Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life

It’s too late to slice
It’s too late
There’s no time to tell you
even a
seed
of a moment

I was going to tell you about the girl who exclaimed,
You have an UNO lunchbox?
and I had to dissapoint her by showing her that no, it was just a lunchbox that says POW!
She had been so excited
And now I want an UNO lunchbox

Oh – and there were the boys
lined up
perpendicular to the recess door
like a race starting line
a few minutes before the whistle blew
jut waiting
What time is it?
they yelled after I asked them why they didn’t want to
enjoy the last few minutes of recess
It was 1:59

But it’s too late now
Too late even
for those mini moments

I can’t write about how I was going to go to bed early
but my to do list said
Nope
Nope
Nope
Double Nope

And now my dog is curled on the couch
squeezing me in
and there’s no time to tell you
even a bit about his wrinkly neck

The Not-So-Gentle Tug of Empathy

Part of Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life

Today
My dog, Finnegan
wanted to stop and sniff
More snow
I was running late
and I told him
again
that we needed to go home
I tugged
I won
we went
but my heart broke
a little for
Finnegan
even though my tug was gentle

I re-realized, a truth
I am not made for this sort of
stuff
This having a dog stuff

I realize
re-realized
isn’t a
real
word
but one I’ve
real-ized
because I re-realize
too often —
this empathy problem

Wouldn’t it be cool if I could syphon off just a bit of my empathy?
Give it to other people
in need?
When the screen comes up at the grocery store, instead of asking me to round up for charity, it could say
Would you care to offload some of your empathy?

I’d totally do it
So that
Every day at school
When kids are
Hurt
Or even
Gently tugged
Or
God, when they are
Misunderstood
In trouble
I wouldn’t have to re-realize a truth
I am not made for this sort of stuff
this teaching stuff

I think about a conversation I overheard months ago
between two first-graders on the back of the rug

Wanna come to my house after school?

No.

(Pause
Head Down)


Can we go to your house?

No.

Heartbreaking.

One day a few months ago, I was driving to one meeting or another
trying to convince myself to
let it go
to
not care about an issue
that had been getting me riled up
and then I re-realized that I work with
real kids
and their
real teachers
so instead of letting it go
I cried the whole way to my meeting

This is not an interview
I’m not trying to bamboozle you
My greatest weakness?
Oh, I care
too much
.

I’m just saying
I’m not made for this sort of stuff
I do care
too much.

Heartbreaking.

It’s Not Just Acorns

A day late, but part of Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life

Sometimes the acorns are crunchier under foot than other times
ever put your foot down expecting
the crunch
but instead all you get is a mushy bend?
I think about you every time I see an acorn though
especially as I decide to risk the bendy failure
try the crunch

One time you asked me where I got my grey fleece coat
said you wanted a fleece like it
that would cover your butt
so when I put that coat on today
I thought of you
it has a broken zipper now —
on my list to get fixed

TJ Maxx
that’s where I got it
but I don’t think you ever found one
I don’t know
it was a long time ago
and you ran out of time
for fleece jackets

Not to make it about me, but
how strange to have such a good friend through such different phases of your life
die
before the next phase of your life
how odd to have someone
gone
before the arc of your friendship got a chance to continue

Sometimes I think
wow
you never knew that happened
you weren’t here for that crazy time
you were gone before that changed
you didn’t get to see that he turned out to be an asshole
then I realize you probably knew
-know
all the things

It’s naive
I would be
naive
if I thought these were fresh thoughts
about death and grief
I’m not
naive
I know I’m
lucky to have not known more
grief

You used to read my words and email back
I wonder what you would write for this
you would say
amen
well-said
and by the way the arc is still there, friend
let’s walk and crunch acorns together
also, get that zipper fixed – want me to take it in to the place that fixed my zipper in 2005?

I closed my eyes
thought what if you can just
ask for someone’s spirit to come?
I thought of you, said your name in my head
and I wondered if you were sitting on the edge of my couch
but I didn’t want to open my eyes to check
is that faith?

Have You Ever Been in First Grade for Writing?

Part of Slice of Life on Two Writing Teachers

First graders started an informational writing unit today.

Have you been in first grade for writing?

The first lesson introduces them with a “drumroll” to get them excited about writing teaching books. I’m wondering if they even need a drumroll, because first-graders bring their own drumroll.

We started by investigating the difference between the storytelling they have been doing and the teaching books they were about to start.

Almost right away, a girl sitting on the front of the rug was smiling.

“I’ve been waiting for this all year,” she told me. “I knew it would happen. I’ve had something I’ve been waiting to write about!”

See? Drumroll.

I asked her what she wanted to write about and she explained how she wanted to teach people how to make the special bracelets she could make.

We talked about teaching books, I planned out a book about having pets, I showed them how to collect some ideas of things they could write about. At first my authentic on-the-spot idea generation went just fine —

“I could write about pets, yes. But I’m also thinking of things I love to do. I could write about road trips! What else could I write about? I could think of places I love. Oh! I could write a book to teach all about Ocean City!”

But then I was stuck. I needed them to help me with some things they think I might be an expert at.

“What do you love? What could you write about? Maybe I can get an idea from you. Sometimes writers need to hear ideas to think of ideas.”

“You could write about what to do at the beach,” someone said.

And then, like they know my own heart, a first-grader suggested I could write about how to take care of things like markers and how you need to put the cap fully on.

“Do you mean I could write about school supplies? Did you know I love school supplies? Did you know I definitely can write a teaching book all about school supplies?”

Then it was time for the kids to record some ideas for their own teaching books.

Most kids got right to work. They wanted to write about pets, and crafts, and video games and glass, and lightning — and school supplies.

A few kids had to think for a moment.

One girl was stuck. Her head was down.

I asked her all the questions.

“What do you like to do when you aren’t at school?”

Silence

“Do you have a favorite game or craft?”

Silence

“Do you love a certain kind of food?

Silence

I interrupted the whole class to remind them all of some of the things they could be thinking about, and to give this girl a moment to hear the idea starters again.

I walked away to give her space, but practically ran back over when I noticed she was writing something on her page.

She was still looking grouchy, but she asked, “How do you spell Myrtle Beach?”

*****

Before writing we had number corner math, and before that we had morning meetings complete with sharing.

Have you been in first grade for sharing?

One boy shared that he was so excited for snow. He can’t wait to play in the snow.

“Did you know it is snowing right now?” Another student asked him.

“Did you see there was some snow on the ground this morning?” The teacher asked the class.

“I didn’t even look in my backyard when I woke up,” a student on the rug said.

A kid still at a table stopped eating his breakfast to tell the class, “I do not even want to tell you guys how much snow was in my backyard! It was a lot.”

Then everyone joined in.

“I can’t wait to sled and build a snowman!”

“And throw snowballs!”

“And catch snow on my tongue!”

The snow was a big deal. You should have have been there later when we were doing some dictation spelling, really working hard on following directions. Someone noticed that it was snowing again.

Have you been in first grade when they notice the snow out the window?

*****

After students generated some ideas for writing, we brought them back to the rug to write a class book.

I started with an idea.

“I was thinking that that we could write something together that we are all experts on. You all come to school each day. How many of you think you can be an expert on what it means to be a first-grader? Put a thumb up if you think you could teach someone about coming to school.”

Maybe 3 kids put their thumbs up. I wouldn’t describe them as excited or even engaged.

“But then this morning,” I added, “you all were talking a lot about snow. I wonder if maybe this is a class of experts about snow. Thumbs up if you think you could help teach about snow.”

Almost everyone held their thumb up. A teaching book about snow it was! Students partnered up and talked about what could be in our book. “Sledding! Snow pants! No school!”

Then, we decided together that we would need a sections: What you can do in the snow; what to wear in the snow; what not to do in the snow; what you have to do in the snow. Then we planned out what kinds of things might go in each section.

I thought the category of “what you have to do in the snow” would be full of things like shoveling, dressing warmly, even canceling school. But when we got to that section, the brainstorm went a little differently.

“So what do we have to do when it snows?” I asked.

“Go outside!”

“Play outside!

“Hmmm,” I said. “That’s a pretty cool way to think of this section. Maybe we have to change what we are calling this part, but I actually really like the voice you are adding here. What do we have to do when it snows? Play, of course!”

“You also have to have hot cocoa,” a student added.

I wrote these down on our note collector under the document camera, and when I wrote “Have hot cocoa,” the kids cheered. I think they were excited we were changing the category to what kids say you have to do when it snows.

We had done a lot in writing, and it was time for math.

“But. But. We didn’t WRITE!” I heard my friend from the front of the carpet exclaim. She looked at me with so much disappointment.

I reminded her with a smile that we had planned a lot of our writing, and written our idea sheet, and started our class book.

But note to self – more writing time, more writing time, more writing time.

Tomorrow they will write their first teaching books, about the things they decide to write, about the things they think they are experts on. I can’t wait to see what they write.

I mean, a book about glass?

Have you ever been with a first-grade expert writing a teaching book about glass?

****

Help to Scar

Part of Slice of Life on Two Writing Teachers

Our eyes still sting from crying and once someone told me to tell stories from scars
not
fresh wounds
like this

My son keeps thinking the shoes in the middle of the floor are the cat we just put down 7 hours ago

Although –

I still think I see Theodore
who died 7
weeks
ago
every time I walk into my room and see the cats’ water fountain out of the corner of my eye

Oh. Wait. That’s the
cat’s
water
singular

One cat now
down from 3

This is a fresh wound

The vet said
the last thing to stop is the heart

I found myself repeating that in my brain
over and over
as she put her stethoscope to my
not-even-two-year-old cat’s chest

The last thing to stop is the heart

After she left me there to say goodbye to him
to Clyde
that’s his name, I’d like you to remember him with his name
Clyde
Clyde-o
Pinky Toe
Stinky man

After she left me to say goodbye to Clyde
I repeated it again

The last thing to stop is the heart

And I took out my phone and typed that in my notes

It was it’s own poem

And I know from experience
unfortunately
That writing from fresh wounds helps them scar

The last thing to stop is the heart
before that, his breathing stopped
that was quick
but before that it took him extra shots to settle down
before his hissing stopped
and his growls when I pet him
before that he let me scratch the top of his head and stroke his mitten paws
before that he let me
hold
him

Dying is stopping
I know this

stop
peeing
playing
eating
hissing
growling
breathing
and then
the last thing to stop
is the heart

Clyde, holding my hands, as special cats do.