My day, as told by my advice — to you, and you and you, and me too.
Get new tires.
Always order the venti coffee.
Look at the plans. The ones I made.
Take a deep breath.
Listen.
Go outside.
Please stop screaming.
Do your own work.
Chat GPT isn’t the way.
Read the room.
Watch your face.
I walked into the small town airport bathroom and a young man was fixing his hair.
“Oh!” He said. “Is this the women’s?”
I told him I thought it was, but I didn’t care. We both went to look at the sign outside the door.
“Yep, it’s women’s. But no big deal.” I explained.
He apologized.
He left.
That’s it.
“You did slice of life with us in third grade!”
That’s how one fifth-grader remembers me.
Today was the first day of school, and soon, if I’m lucky, I’ll get to write with kids again.
So.
I was thinking.
For months I’ve been paused.
“Prewriting!” My writing friend says.
If I’m going to teach kids about writing —
I better start writing again.
this is boring
and I don’t expect you
to read it
writer’s block
must mean I’m actually
a writer
even my journal
the self-love guided one
is closed
oh, I was gonna write
but then the cat fight happened
woke up the dog
now every line
is interrupted by my shouting
FINN STOP IT
he can’t stop
the cat food is just sitting there
calling his name
even at 6 am
there are too many distractions
around me
easy roadblocks
around me but also in my head
I am a distraction
this is why
I can’t write anymore
damnit
This is part of Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life. Find out more, and join in here
At the sink to fill my water glass I see the moon never noticed the moon in that spot before but now, a la Harold and the Purple Crayon, I must know where the moon will be at the new house next month.
This is part of Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life. Find out more, and join in here!
Home. It’s where the heart is. Home is where your family is. It’s certainly not the big box you keep all your furniture in, right?
Let go. This is my mantra these days, as we have gotten our house ready to sell.
I said it to myself as I boxed up, threw out, gave away stuff. I said it as we staged the house, making it look like we would never in a million years leave legos all over the floor, or crumbs on the counter, or clutter on the dining room table, or laundry in the washer.
Let go. I said it as I stood outside in my green backyard next to my apple tree, painting the last of a few doors that needed to be finished. I repeated it as I looked at the view of mountains and blue sky.
I say it each time I ask my husband to remind me why we decided to move. (We need more space, it’s time to move closer to my school, it’s good for the kids in the long run, it’s best for our family. Repeat after me; We need more space, it’s time to move closer to my school, it’s good for the kids in the long run, it’s best for our family…)
Let go: As we turned on all the lights, put never-used white towels on hooks, never-used tablecloth on the table, never-used throw pillows, for showings and open houses; and as we took all those things off again. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat, each time we ushered kids out of the house.
I remind myself to let go when I tell L that, “Moving is hard. And, we can do hard things.” I also remind myself that deciding to move when your daughter is 12 is maybe not the best decision.
Let go: As we initialed 20 times accepting an offer.
Now I sit in my dining room. It’s pleasant. It’s clean. There’s no clutter. (Well, a little has crept back on shelves and the coffee table, corners…. if you know where to look, to be honest) Our personal pictures are packed away from the staging, and Mr. Thought tells me this is good. We are slowly letting go of this being our home.
So I work to let go. I focus on the positives.We finally made the decision to move after years of debate, and we followed through! We had a fast sale! (Well, knock on wood… still lots of hoops to jump through, t’s to cross, i’s to dot…) We are blessed with the chance to get a house that fits our family better! A new young couple gets to start their life in this great house, in this wonderful neighborhood! It feels good to think about their excitement.
But, I still tear up when I talk about it, and it’s still hard for me to think about this not being our home.
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for info and links to more Slicing!
*I'm not teaching math this year. . . my numbers may be a little fuzzy...* It's a new record: A Slice of numbers and gratitude It's a new record! 2 weeks in, and I'm behind 3 stacks of assignments to assess 12 evaluation domain descriptors to describe 2 workshops; reading & writing to get up and running I mean, we're up, but we aren't running. Or maybe, we're running, but we aren't up. . . 1 reading unit to try out 3 writing units of study 2 read alouds 4 parts to a new Positive Behavior Management System - It's pretty Fancy, so I capitalized it. 2 new iPad minis to set up 50 kidblog accounts, classroom library accounts, chrome books and their cases, binders, assignment books, pencil pouches. . . 50 times I've raised my hand for attention..magic! It's a new record! 50 kids to get to know 100+ parents too 2 snack coordinators 10 allergies It's a new record! 1 migraine 5 headaches 20 cups of coffee 10 soda stream seltzers 1,000 ounces of water 14 two-minute bathroom breaks I'm not going to count the Advil ...or the chocolate It's a new record! 2 weeks in, and I've needed 2 substitute teachers in a row 5 students exclaim, "You're back!" and "Are your kids feeling better?" 50 smiles 10 hugs 1,000 "hellos," "have a good nights," "see you in the mornings," giggles and jokes 4 mindfulness practice sessions 20 more books on my To Read List 1 Apple for the teacher, wrapped in a napkin, left on my desk It's a new record! 2 weeks in 50 kids I'm getting to know 2 learning communities, starting to grow 1 classroom we are starting to call home
. . . and. . . 
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for info and links to more Slicing! Today’s slice inspired by today’s prompt on #TeachersWrite
I’m driving and my attention is on the road, but with three kids in the backseat, my rearview mirror glances award me more than a road view. I’m watching you. You are joking with your sister and brother. I hear you. Your laughter is a delight. You are funny, but your words quickly become cutting. I don’t know why. Your little brother is growing a thick skin. I give you reminders to be kind, and tell you to stop. And then I watch as you decide to put your hands out your window. All I see is your hands raised to the sky, and I know that feeling: the air pushing on you, the wind so loud. Your hair is blowing from your face, and I wonder what is happening in your mind. I’m hoping you are feeling peaceful with the white noise, and the chance to let go of impulse control and just breathe. The next time I glance back you have a water bottle hanging out of the window too, and you are experimenting with drops. They are falling out of the bottle directly into the car. You have invented a misting air conditioner, and nobody else in the backseat seems to mind. I wonder about the water since I can’t see it leaving the bottle, but I can see it on your face and hair, and I can hear your brother and sister laugh as you say “Our own rainstorm!” I’m proud of myself. I smile at your antics, and your joy. Checking myself, I don’t feel an urge to have you stop.
We turn down the road that leads to the coffee shop, and suddenly your brother and sister complain loudly, “Ugh!” and “He dumped the rest of his slushy out the window!” and “It’s all over the car!”
I’m annoyed, and I’m sure the drive through barista thought it was weird, but that’s okay. I decided that it’s no big deal. My annoyance is easily forgotten if I just picture you: hands out the window, hair blowing in the breeze.
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for info and links to more Slicing!
It’s a long story, why everyone needed a bike at the same time –Why we ended up at the store even after other, more sustainable, cheaper options were suggested. But that’s where we were. All the other shoppers looked at me like I was crazy – buying 4 bikes at once. I wanted to explain to each evil eye: “My bike was stolen 2 years ago! My daughter’s bike is too small and broken! My 8 year old has been riding my hand me down bike for 2 years! It has no gears! My 5 year old tried a goodwill bike last year and it wouldn’t pedal, and the training wheels bent…” But instead, I smiled and laughed at us… the kids riding their bikes to the checkout, me wheeling mine while I shouted after them.
“Be careful! Slow down!”
Even the woman ringing up our purchase seemed mad. I told her that the Assembler had told us my youngest son’s bike was $50, not $80. Even after her manager gave her the go ahead to charge us $49.95, she scoffed at us, annoyed, I guess, that I was getting a better bargain on my smallest bike purchase.
The next day we strapped our bikes on to the van, and headed to a nearby bike path with my sister, Aunt Awesomeness. After a small mishap of using the bike rack incorrectly (Note: don’t strap it to the window!) we were on our way. Aunt Awesomeness kept up with the big kids while I followed E. He was a trooper for 5 whole miles on his training wheels, and this is the true slice I want to remember: My bike ride with E.
I tried not to bump into him when he slowed down, and I tried to limit my yelling of “Be careful!” as much as possible. I tried to teach him how to use his brakes on the downhills, and how to keep pedaling on the uphills. I tried not to scream as he gained speed going down the steep parts, and not to cry when he fell. I told him it was okay to fall, and that he needed to get back on. (I only took a picture of the fall after he was okay. I promise.)
I breathed it in: the beautiful day and his little voice calling to me from his bike:
“This uses energy!”
“Is this exercise?”
“This isn’t motorized so it didn’t use gas.”
“Doesn’t this feel like we are going across the country? And I’m not even thirsty yet!”
….(5 minutes later…) “I need a break. I’m thirsty.”
“Did you see me going down that hill? It’s as fun as LEGOS! Even funner.”
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers. Head over there for information and links to more Slicing!
Dear Students,
When you see your report card and it says Comment 07: “Behaves appropriately,” will you know that what I meant is that I see how hard it is for you each day? Will you know I appreciate how you listened to my reminders, even though you wanted to roll your eyes?
When you see Comment C13: “Works well independently,” will you know that I respect your quiet way? That I wish I had sat down next to you more often?
How about Comment C05: “Positively contributes to classroom environment?” Please know that I appreciated your smile, and your kind words, and your positive leadership. Keep choosing happy as much as you can!
Comment C17: “Often requires prompting to focus and stay on task.” I don’t want to put this comment on your final report card. You and I both know that focus isn’t your strength yet. You have taken my prompting, and you have moved on. Sometimes you were annoyed at my prompting, and sometimes you took it in stride. School is hard work, thank you for bringing your best.
Comment C20: “Needs to make better use of work time.” Me too. Comment C28: “Needs to improve organization.” Don’t we all?
Your 6th grade report card will all too soon be a thing of your past, just like your 6th grade year. I want to make new comment codes for you:
I heard you.
I saw you.
I learned something from you.
Thank you.
the musings of a high school science teacher
Tales of a Doc student's readings
erratic thoughts too loud for lines
Small slices of my life, in one place!
Celebrating the Randomness of Life
On a Thought 