#Sol18 March 4 What If?

Slice of LIfe  

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March.  You should do it too!  Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!

What if every day were like the Sunday of spring break?
How many scones would we have for breakfast?
How much would I spend at Target?
How many seltzer waters would we go through?
How much laundry would beckon me?
How long would the vacuum sit waiting?
How clean would the counter stay?

What if every day were like the Sunday of spring break?
Would I read all the books?
Would I write thousands of words?
Would I always make Sunday dinner?
Would the sun keep shining in the blue sky for all the dog walks?
Would there always be a peaceful hour of quiet between the errands?
Would there be enough legos to build?

I think I’d like if every day were like the Sunday of spring break.

 

#Sol18 March 3 Plans & Reality

Slice of LIfe  

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March.  You should do it too!  Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!

Weekend Plans. . .  and Reality

My plan: a weekend away
with my tribe
learning at Teachers College
walking New York
Wine, there was going to be wine

My reality: a sick kid
a mom-decision
cleaning at home
missing New York
Whine, there wasn’t supposed to be so much whine

#sol18 March 2 Up Up Up Up

Slice of LIfe  I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March.  You should do it too!  Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!

I wake up at 2:30* to the sound of a sick kid. We clean kid, clean sheets, clean rug. Then, I try to settle him back to sleep next to me, and try to fall back to sleep

Up at 3:40

Up at 4:30

Up at 5:30

Up at 6:30

Up at 7:30 – This time to H holding my laptop in front of my face, “Want to read my slice**?”

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*All times approximate, I have very little recollection of the details in the middle of the night.

**H’s slice posted here with his permission.

#sol18 March 1

Slice of LIfe  I am participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge: A slice a day for all of March.  You should do it too!  Thank you, Two Writing Teachers! Readers, check out their site, and start slicing!

March 1 Slice Day!

The dog peeks over at me as I try to sneak downstairs to write before everyone wakes up.

I open my laptop,  start a new post and wonder if maybe 4 years of daily March slicing was enough. I might not have anything new to say.

I read and comment on other blogs. I review my slices from last year. I miss having students who slice with me in March. I sit. I drink my coffee. I think.

It’s time to get ready for the day now, so I leave my blank post, and  head upstairs.  H comes out of his room. “I’m going to do the 31 day Slice of Life challenge!” he says. “I’m going to slice every day. You’ll just have to make sure you bring your computer when we go away, so I don’t miss a day.”

I cheer. I have a student to slice with! My very own 5th grader. My reluctant writer who is planning to write every day. Thank you to his wonderful teacher!

I want to tell him tips and hints and advice right away. I want to remind him that he can pick small moments, that he can make observations, write poetry, follow formats, have fun…  I want to tell him he’s probably already experienced several slices this morning! Instead, I get ready for school, and ask him to do the same.

A few hours later, he’s already emailed me his first slice and shared his March Slice of Life Challenge Google doc with me.

He totally didn’t need my advice.

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H’s Slice! He told me that the title is because the Appalachian TRAIL… and he had to take a long walk back to the shower. 🙂 

 

 

Caution: Wet Floor

Slice of LIfe Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers

It’s not that I didn’t see the huge “Wet Floor” cone in the bathroom. I saw it. I looked around and saw no wetness anywhere. Then I picked the cleanest stall.

But, when I left the stall,  the bottom 1/3 of my pant legs were soaking wet. It’s never good to notice wet pants in the public bathroom. I looked down and only then did I see the lake surrounding the toilet.

I took a deep breath, and propped my foot up under the hand dryer.  I stood there trying to remain calm.

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Of course someone else walked into the bathroom.

“Be careful!” I said. And then I tried to quickly tell this stranger why I was doing an odd stance at the wall under the dryer.

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Switching legs, I wondered how long a dryer that said “Feel the Power” would take to dry the bottom of my pants.

Too long — it takes too long. So I just left, hoping nobody would notice that the bottom of my pants were dark. I was also hoping it was just water.

Sadly, this all felt a little familiar. Almost 20 years ago, on the way back from our honeymoon, I went to the airplane bathroom, and green liquid seeped up my pant legs. For the rest of the flight I felt it seeping up higher and higher, and the chemical smell gave me a terrible headache.  I thought about that story as I walked around the store, frowning.

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I want this story to mean something… “Every 20 years, watch your step!” Or, “When you think things are bad, remember it’s not green liquid seeping up your pants!” Or even, “Don’t try to go on errands after school!” But the reality is,  as I walked around the store quickly, with my pants a little heavier and a grimace on my face,  the only thing that cheered me up was thinking, “Oh! I can slice this!”

 

 

 

Celebrating Susie: A Cat’s Eulogy

celebrate-image So happy to Celebrate with Ruth Ayres this weekend! What are you celebrating

Celebrating Susie: A Cat’s Eulogy.

We’re so sad around here, crying still, although the time in between the tears grows each day. We are missing our cuddly, snuggly, soft, smart, kind girl. Trying to turn grief into celebration. A celebration of Susie…

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Susie was born at home. I wasn’t there, but I got an email from my startled husband who was surprised that the sound he heard coming from our closet was a newborn kitten. The video of that day shows my parents and Mr. Thought enjoying the magic of the new kittens, and you can faintly hear me on the phone saying “Okay! I have to go, my math class is about to start!”

Susie’s mom was named “Mama Mia.” Her siblings were Ernie and Billy (the kid-ten). Susie was the first kitten out of the box, and we knew she had to be named for a woman change-maker, so Susie B. Cat it was!

We were just fostering Mama Mia and her babies, and when they were old enough, I would pack them in their carriers and drive them to the shelter on Saturdays. Mia and Ernie were adopted on the first weekend, but I had several weekends of driving Billy & Susie to the shelter, sobbing the whole way there.  One Sunday, we got the call that we didn’t need to come to get the kittens — they had been adopted!

This was very upsetting “good news.”

Two days later, the shelter called us back. Susie and Billy had been returned.

We never knew why, but I thought it was fate: There was no way we would take these kittens back to the shelter! Of course, Mr. Thought had to agree. (Or, maybe he was just tired of all of my weekend sobbing!)

Billy and Susie were our first babies. They were snuggly, playful, social, curious, adventurous cats. Billy was white with grey spots, and Susie was black and white. When they were young they used to curl up together like a big fluffy yin yang symbol. Later as they got older, they each took a side of the couch for the naps.

I’ve met a lot of cats, and I admit to loving almost all of them. But Susie was a special one. Once we fostered some kittens during the holidays. Susie took care of them, and we called her “Aunt Susie.” When our children were little, they would chase, hold, snuggle and play with both very tolerant cats. Susie loved to play with the stick/feather toy. She could jump so high, that sometimes she’d actually do a backflip in the air!

It seemed as though Susie truly had 9 lives. Once a friend of one of the kids was over, and days later we found Susie hiding under the bed with a rubber band tied around her tail. Thankfully we caught it before any serious damage. Another friend brought Lilies over as a party gift, and when the kids at the sleepover noticed that Susie jumped off the dining room table and threw up, I took a midnight ride to the emergency vet. She scared us, and cost us over a thousand dollars… but thankfully, she came home healthy! One winter, we thought Susie was missing. My dad and I roamed the cold streets shaking cat food. 2 days later, we found Susie tangled in a blanket and stuck between our bed and the wall.

When Billy died 2 years ago, and we got a dog a couple months later, Susie just took a mature outlook on life. Every so often she’d come downstairs, or stare at the dog through the gate, but mostly she just hung out and snuggled in my daughter’s room.

In June the vet told us that Susie was a healthy cat, and not even just for being almost 16. “She’s a very healthy cat!”

Susie died at the vet last week. I wasn’t there to say goodbye. But my mom and dad were. They were close enough to drop everything and run to be by her side. I wish I could have been there, but I didn’t want her to be alone. My parents were there when she was born, and when she left. What an honor.

They said she looked up at them to say goodbye.

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I’m noticing, A Slice

Slice of LIfe Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers

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Tonight, we went to see Kinky Boots. We felt a little guilty putting off our homework until later tonight, but Mary Ehrenworth told us to go out and have fun, so it was like a direction, right?

The theater was beautiful, and the seats were great! There’s nothing like the feeling of a show about to start: the crowd gathers, the excitment mounts, we take turns going to the restroom.

As my friend and I walked into the bathroom, we laughed along with a few others. Like an unpopular amusement park ride, the maze of rope to enter was empty in the uncrowded bathroom. We rushed through it, feeling silly as we twisted and turned around the long maze. On the way out of the bathroom, I laughed again and shook my head because the next few people to come in just walked around the rope.

They walked around the rope. I bet those people would be good at lateral thinking puzzles.

Celebrating A Good Start

celebrate-image So happy to Celebrate with Ruth Ayres this weekend! What are you celebrating

 

I’m celebrating learning today because I’m at Teachers College’s Coaching of Reading Institute. I always know I’m going to learn so much when I get the chance to come here. I am never disappointed.

I am especially celebrating good starts. There’s so much power in a good start.

This morning started with a new notebook, and a session with a title that made me want to shout, “Amen!”

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We started with a few minutes of a Ted Talk, and then the amazing Katy Wishow took us through the Essentials of a Learning Community. These are things we know students need in our Reader’s Workshop. . . but they are true for our own teacher communities too:

  1. Embracing Risk (which means, embracing failure too!)
    Ask for help, be vulnerable
  2. A Shared Spotlight
    Build up your team, turn your spotlight to others
  3. Team Mentality
    Everyone gets what they need
  4. Joy and Celebration
    We celebrate with kids, how can we build this with teachers? 

When you start a day about coaching with a session about how we need communities to learn and grow, about how we need joy and celebration… that’s a good start to the day. That’s a great start to a Coaching Institute. That’s something to celebrate.

Thanks for the great start, TCRWP!

A slice of a Second

Slice of LIfe Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers

I sit and  look around. I’m still in slow motion, heart racing. I see a woman. She doesn’t seem to have noticed that anything happened. A car drives by, its driver oblivious. My hands are shaking slightly and I pull over, hazards on.

I take a deep breath in, allow my eyes to close for a moment, breathe out.

Before this,

I lived in a slow motion moment. I drove down the street, watchful but relaxed. Listening to Hamilton, almost home. Suddenly, a van cut across the street directly in front of me. (They made the word suddenly specifically for situations like this, I think.) 

I slammed the brake and watched as my car still got closer to the van as the van continued across the street. I braced for impact, eyes squinted. I hoped I wouldn’t hit the van too hard, I pressed the brake. The van kept going, I kept going. Shouldn’t brakes work faster than this? My hands gripped the steering wheel, and I wondered if maybe I would just scrape the back of the van. 

And then it was over. The van went on its merry way, and I watched as cars passed all around me, unconcerned. 

Now safely pulled over, I call Mr. Thought.

“I’m okay,” I start, because I am.