Tomorrow starts the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’ll be slicing every day for all of March. I hope you’ll join me.
March Eve
This blank page will visit me every day next month tomorrow and I will remember what my students feel when they stare at their blank page so blank
Today we generated ideas for next week’s poetry and one boy wrote stuff stuff stuff like he was an advertisement for a tired second-grader resistant not to writing but to directions
I wrote a terrible poem today with my class but they liked it with smiles and laughter chatter chatter chatter which just goes to show you that the writer often doesn’t know what the reader will like
In reading today, my student teacher asked How do you feel when you read? What emotions do books give you? I watched as kids wrote the words calm, happy, funny I listened to one student say That doesn’t make any sense, there are no emotions inside a book! Which just goes to show you that the reader often doesn’t know either
So tomorrow there won’t be school Saturday Saturday Saturday But I will still feel what my students feel when they stare at the blank page
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! #sol25. I’m slicing on as many Tuesdays as I can. I hope you’ll join me.
I can’t stop thinking about this comment I saw – let it go, I know but This curriculum coach I don’t even know wrote something I must be misunderstanding in a facebook group I don’t even like and like what is going on with teaching, right? She said, and I quote, “Our goal is… not asking students to write but showing them how.” and now I’d say I don’t have the words but I actually have a lot of words for cowards who don’t know what they are talking about but tell people what to do who let ships sink saying they believe in something that isn’t true who put kids last last! explaining how their misguided data is skewed
On the other hand I’m glad that the goal isn’t for students to write that would be like, so, like, hard to fit in I’ve got worksheets to cover Skills to explain calls for my kids to respond to in unison not to mention the grammar and fill in the blanks my days are packed, man just like those assessments
Don’t tell anyone that I um secretly teach kids who write poetry just when they speak they make stories with blocks, legos, and play run mini book making factories throughout the day my underground workshop is hard to fit in but it’s kinda my job to keep teaching even when cowards on Facebook spew official advice luckily it’s not really my job anymore to pretend to be nice
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.
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.
My friend Mardi died four and a half years ago or so, but she was in my dream last night. She doesn’t show up in my dreams a lot anymore, but it’s always so nice to see her.
She was late to a picnic full of teachers I worked with long ago.
That should have been my first indicator that this was a trick of the mind. She would have never been late in real life.
“It’s raining.” She said when she arrived
“Really?” I asked and she showed me how her dress had sprinkles of water, and the back of it was wet from accidentally sitting in a puddle.
Another indication that this was not a real event. Mardi wouldn’t sit in a puddle. This was a woman who had a white winter coat that she always kept clean.
We sat and chatted and I told her I how I changed my desk configuration to try to help my class focus.
This is actually true in real life. Just yesterday after school I rearranged my desks. We’ll see if it makes an impact.
“I mean, I had everyone facing each other, and then I kept reminding them to stop talking. That’s on me.” I said.
She laughed in agreement.
Then I told her how I have to have another lunch bunch for kids to finish their missing work.
I must have been teaching sixth-grade in this dream.
“They really can’t get work done in the loud cafeteria,” I explained. “But if they come here I feel bad that they don’t get a lunch.”
She gave me one of her classic looks.
For this, I am so grateful for my dream. I miss that Mardi look.
“Just have them eat their lunch and then come back to do their missing work,” she said. She reminded me that it’s okay to keep my expectations high.
How she did this with a look and a sentence might sound like it is only in a dream. But, real-life Mardi could say a lot with a look and a sentence.
I wish that dream picnic could have lasted longer, but my alarm was loud, and the picnic and support session was over in a flash.
I don’t need a dream interpretation website for this one. It was lovely for Mardi to visit me in my dream to give me some teaching advice and encouragement.
It’s not her fault that it makes me cry to remember her dream visit.
Knowing her, she knows my tears are mostly because I miss her. And just a teensy bit because I only get an instructional coach in my dreams.
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.
Finally out to our second recess, the air chilly and the sun warm, I take a deep breath.
There’s no time to do all the things, and I find myself rushing through so much all day long.
Even though I know rushing doesn’t help. Even though I know that slowing down is the only way to get more done. Even though I know it doesn’t serve any of the students I serve.
We don’t need more binders of must dos or more scripts, I think. We need more pauses. The line between a perky pace and a frantic one is too small to measure already. The less we do each day, the better the day. And somehow, the more we learn. I know there is research about this, but I also see it every day.
Usually we live a few “If you give a mouse a cookie” books each day. They start with “If your teacher takes attendance one minute later than usual…” or maybe “If morning meeting starts 3 minutes late and you have to practice coming to the circle quietly a few times …”
Today we had an “If you are ready to start math 2 minutes late, you will have to talk about it. If you have to talk about it, you will start math 5 minutes late but your teacher will still want to have all the math, so you will be getting ready for recess 5 minutes late. If you are getting ready for recess 5 minutes late, some of your friends will hurry but others will not and you will be 10 minutes late to recess. If you are 10 minutes late to recess, you won’t have time to have all 15 minutes of recess.”
I’m not saying it is as fun of a story as the Mouse and the cookie.
I watch the kids outside, running and chasing and smiling in that chilly warm sun and turn around to one of my kids who is fixing her sweatshirt.
“I love recess because…” she says as she pulls her sweatshirt over her short sleeves, “because you can meet more of the kids and also because you can have fun!”
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.
I have a student teacher.
When I told my 17 year old that my student teacher was starting today, he said incredulously, “they approved you for that?”
“I am a veteran teacher,” I explained to him.
In my first year again.
Today after recess, or maybe after lunch — the time runs together — we were getting started on — well something. But there was a chirping.
The second-graders asked, “What is that? A cricket?”
I thought it might be my quiet writing music from writing, so I muted my computer but the chirp kept chirping.
Indeed, it was a cricket.
Earlier, still at home, enjoying my coffee, I had stumbled upon an “I love bugs song” that had promise for school. See the other day at recess some kids were stomping on a bug outside. We had a chat about that. So a song would be so good.
I like bugs, and I’ll tell you why. They’re alive and so am I. Bugs. I like grasshopers cause frogs eat em I like bees cause flowers need em I like spiders I like slugs I like caterpillars I like bugs…
But when I listened to the whole song I wasn’t so sure. There’s a line about hating crowds, loving people and not being down with the plague…
But when there was a cricket in my room, I wished I had memorized that song.
Maybe we could make up another line.
I like crickets and I’ll tell you why. They’re alive and so am I Crickets chirp chirp Crickets
Instead of singing, I reminded the kids that we don’t hurt bugs. We are STAR students. We show kindness to all creatures great and small.
When the class went to their special, my student teacher and I tried to find the cricket.
Okay, fine. It was mostly him. I let him find the cricket.
When he found it, he asked if he should take it outside.
“It’s actually really big,” he said.
I told him that it was up to him. If he felt comfortable doing it he could, but he certainly didn’t have to carry a giant cricket outside on his first day of second-grade.
“When you tell this story in 20 years about your first day with your mentor teacher, please make sure you include the part where I told you it was totally up to you.”
I mean, this is a story you tell right? Your first day student teaching?
Well, it’s a story I’m telling at least.
As for my student teacher, he survived his first day in second-grade, and he helped a giant cricket survive second-grade too — by taking it outside.
On a Thought 