My van has taken us across the country,
west and also south.
It’s climbed the million dollar highway, driven through the Mojave dessert and of course, back to our house.
It helped me take my daughter away to school.
In the fall it will carry my son to college too.
With all it’s done for me, all the places we have gone…
You’d think I’d clean it more.

It’s April, so I’m writing poetry. Today, inspiration from EthicalELA – Oh – the Places You’ll Go!

I forgot to wish 
As I watched 
The wishing star 
Shooting star 
Fireball
Streak across the sky

My slow brain wondered
What is that?
Is that a shooting star?
A bright ball of glow
Green tail, almost neon
Came so close to the horizon I was sure I’d see an explosion of light
Hear a boom

But it just 
Stopped
Ended silently 
I was so struck 
by the magic 
I forgot to use it 
A shame because 
I could use a wish 
(or two)

I’m not going to romanticize teaching
Because
Today, like every day there was someone picking their nose
Yesterday someone sneezed after the last bell, and as it ran down their face, they tried to use their fingers to wipe it away
It’s not just the snot
It’s not
Today I had to remind them
again that
when I talk it means I have something I want them to, you know, hear,
that I don’t want them to just
look
like they are listening,
I want them to listen
So the long and short of it is I am not here to
tell you it’s all
roses
It’s not

But —

We talked about my laugh lines today,
if you’ve ever written personal essays with 7 year olds, and used your own self portrait as an example, you will probably understand.
“How do we get laugh lines?” they asked me.
“How long does it take?”
An anxious boy asked me what he could do to get laugh lines like mine and I said
Smile as much as you can
So he smiled

Yesterday I asked what a big prize could be and someone said
Another year of second grade

Today after my big talk
where I explicitly taught how to listen
and ask clarifying questions,
they listened
and you should have heard those clarifying questions!

Later at recess, I put on my too big, too long, very warm winter coat.

A student walked over to me and said “Ms. Gabriel? Why do you look like a fluffy marshmallow?“

I laughed,
since I am collecting laugh lines

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.

After school I hung up the slice we wrote in writing today, on a hastily made purple construction paper backing.

I titled it, “We Are Writers.”

We had written “From My Chair” slices to start out our writing time today.

I called it a “Writing warm up.”

Because this morning as I finished my coffee I wrote myself a goal sheet, and one of the goals was to actually do the warm-up writing I had planned to do each day.

“Friends,” I said, “we are ready to start doing writing warm-ups after recess.”

Then I thanked the kids who had their “Slices and Sparks” notebooks and a pencil out on their desk, because I had a giant “You need:” and a picture of their Slices and Spark notebook and a pencil on the board.

“This is one of my favorite slices because you can always write it. You can even write it when you don’t know what to write!”

I modeled one quickly for them, and had them get started to. They could choose to do this, or a “Rose and Thorn” slice. All but one or two tried the “From My Chair.”

When we started sharing them, I was, of course, in love with the poetry children create when they write.

“We have to make this into a collaborative poem. Choose your favorite lines to add to our class poem. If you didn’t write this kind of slice, write just one line now to share.”

We shared, I typed, we read our poem together. It was beautiful.

“Maybe we should keep writing on this page more and more slices!” Someone suggested

“Isn’t this just a warm-up?” Someone asked.

“I can’t wait to send this poem home in our class newsletter this week!” I said, and I nodded to answer his question.

“Or maybe you should just print it out.” They suggested.

They are very good at suggestions.

So I printed it out and our student teacher went to get it.

We needed a little break, a little change up from writing.
This was obvious, and if you are a teacher you know what I mean.

I gathered them to finish our read aloud book.

“But, wasn’t that just a writing warm-up?” Someone asked again, wondering, as I’m sure you are, why our warm-up took almost all of writing today.

“Yep, yep, yep.” I said, trying to figure out how to explain my flexible, responsive teaching plans to an 8 year old.

With 10 minutes left of writing, I had no other option. We got out our writing folders, our small moment story designs, and I passed out paper.

“Writers,” I said, “Let’s get started writing these beginnings! You have 8 minutes!”

I’m not saying that was my proudest teacher-of-writing moment. 8 minutes?

Tomorrow, we will do more story writing, I promise. It’s in the plans!

Tomorrow, our warm-up will not take almost half an hour.

Tomorrow, when kids walk into the classroom, I hope they see my purple construction paper sign with their published slice of life.

If I could
Ever get rid of this migraine
There would be so many ways to enjoy this day!
Were my medicine to work
A sunny Sunday like this could be filled with
Spring celebrations, nature hikes with the dog, gardening! This
Day could be used and enjoyed
So very much. Instead I will whine and complain about a
Perfect day, wasted while the dog whines at the door.

I’m looking for poetry challenges. Today I wrote inspired by “If Ever There were a Spring Day so Perfect” on Ethical ELA.

There is a cardinal in the tree outside my window this morning.

Some people say cardinals are your loved ones who have passed, saying hello.

“That’s not you, Mardi.” I think. “I know you say hello with hummingbirds.”

I sip my coffee, and remember the time, just weeks after Mardi died: An intense porch argument with my then husband was interrupted by several hummingbirds flying onto the porch, some straight for his head. Yea. She definitely says hello with hummingbirds.

Suddenly, there is a hummingbird in the tree outside my window.

She flies to the top of my window and hovers there, staring in.

“There’s a hummingbird at our window!” I tell the kids. They don’t seem to understand why this is so important.

I watch the hummingbird fly down to the bottom of the window, where the cardinal has landed on a bush. They both stare into my family room for a bit, and then the hummingbird flies away.

The cardinal stays though, for just a moment.

So I guess she says hello with hummingbirds and cardinals.

Hi, Mardi.