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.

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!”

I like recess too.

We stay out for the whole 15 minutes.

I put the water on to boil.
I wonder.
Can I write a slice of life
before the water boils?

There’s a lot of typing and deleting.

I check the water, and the answer is no.

No, I cannot write
before the water boils.

I pour what’s left of a box of rotini in,
set the timer for 10 minutes.

How about now? Can I write?

I mean, what else would you need to know?

It’s after 7:00, and I’ve walked the dog.

I’ve put a handful of rotini into a small pot. One kid is at their father’s, the other is at work, and the oldest is away at college.

This morning around 6:00, I took the dog out and I thought, “maybe I’ll write quickly while I have my coffee.”

“Six words,” I thought. “I could do a six word slice.”

I brainstormed a sad six word story: “But when would she write, though?”

The answer is, 13 hours later.

In November, I will be co-presenting at NCTE, all about The Sometimes Secret Writing Lives of Teachers.

Currently my writing life is so secret, I can’t even find it.

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.

You know that trend where they record teachers before the first day and after the first day?

Imagine this video of me, if you can.

Usually the video is of the teacher in their class – but who are we kidding – I will not be stopping to take a video this morning.

So.

Before:

Hi! I’m Ms. Gabriel. I teach second-grade – well, I will. This is me before the first day of school.

I’m in my pajamas, my heartless curler is still in, I am finishing my coffee. My mug choice was intentional. It says teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher teacher.

I don’t want to forget who I am.

I woke up early, remembered that I hadn’t printed out my class lists yet. Actually, I remembered that last night, also remembering that I still don’t actually know how to take lunch count.

My bag is packed, but not my lunch.
I know what t-shirt I’m wearing, but not what pants.
My middle child is awake and ready, but not my youngest.
My plans are done, but not really since first day of school plans are a somewhat hilarious thing.

I keep remembering Natalie Louis at a Phonics Institute. She reminded us that on the first day of school the kids should leave feeling lucky to have you as their teacher, maybe knowing a class song, and they should be excited to come back the next day.

So inspirational. But also, maybe a tall order.

Only time will tell.

……..

After:

Hi! I’m Ms. Gabriel. I taught second-grade today. This is me after the first day of school.

I’m back in my pajamas.
I left my laptop on the dining room table.
I made myself take a break.
I hope this break turns into going to bed soon.