Slice of Life: A Greater Appreciation for a Colander

     I'm doing my best to keep up with slicing on Tuesdays! All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

"Where did that colander come from?" Larkin asked as I drained the pasta. "And what are the designs in it? I love them!"

I transferred the pasta, and the two of us studied the pattern of holes. Stars, we agreed. I love Larkin's appreciation for both current, trending items and also old classics. She embraces eclecticism!

"They were my grandmother's," I said, pulling out the matching colander and holding them up for Larkin to appreciate. 

Larkin is home for a couple of weeks, and it's a new home. She hasn't been here since we moved in March, and before then, many of our belongings, colander included, had been in boxes for several years. That's another story and slice, but I do remember unpacking the colander and being happy to see it. Not everything has to be new. Not everything is better new. 

And the truth was, I had never really studied and appreciated the colanders until Larkin's noticing. Leave it to her to notice as an artist and appreciator of patterns and design. That being said, I always reach for my old colanders as opposed to the new and shiny one from Bed Bath and Beyond. Thinking about it, there's something about the weight, the smoothness, and the shape that works better than the newer ones. And there's also something about having Tippie's colander in my kitchen. 

A few nights later, the girls were making pizza, and a friend with four much younger kids wanted to see what her future might hold, so I snapped a shot of the girls stretching the dough and chopping up toppings. 

"That colander!" was her response. Her grandmother had that colander as well. 

I love that a colander-- a tool that is for straining and cleansing-- has inspired memories, appreciation, and connections. 

Happy Slicing,

Slice of Life: The Girls Are Home

    I'm doing my best to keep up with slicing on Tuesdays! All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

The girls are home. 

There's chocolate cake 

Baked at 10.

(That's 10 p.m.)

And workouts that include

Too many abs

And frog jumps,

And burpees. 

There are debates over whether

to watch

The Bachelorette because 

it's home visits

or

The season finale of The Voice. 

There a new Taylor Swift album

Instead of my 

new Bruce Springsteen album,

And seltzer cans, empty,

On the piano

After a session of 

Playing and singing and composing.

 

There's extra laundry,

And extra crumbs,

And extra dishwasher loads,

And extra noise. 

And 

extra, 

extra,

joy. 

The girls are home. 

Slice of Life: How is it only December?

 

   I'm doing my best to keep up with slicing on Tuesdays! All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

In an email I wrote to teachers, I included the line: How is it already December tomorrow?  I reread it, thought about it, and I deleted that line. 

Maybe what I really meant, and as I sit here and write this post on the morning of December 1, how is it only December? 

If I think back to a year ago, my youngest daughter was waiting for a college acceptance. Since then, she's graduated, deferred, worked harder than she ever has, and has become a fitness junkie as well as a foodie. But wait, let's just consider 2020. 

 

It's hard to believe that in January 2020, there were only a few rumblings of a virus in China. Little did I know...  In January 2020, I was picking paint colors for the house we were building and would move into on March 9,  just before one of my best friend's husband's 400 person funeral a day later. And just before the state shut down four days later. And just before my third daughter came home early from her semester abroad six days later. 

How could that week have happened less than nine months ago? 

I could keep going with 2020: the highs and lows-- the game nights, toilet paper crises, Zoom sessions, family hikes, election results, new puppies... (yes, that's plural, as we got one and so did my mother. That's another post.) It's just hard to believe it's only December. 

I wonder what the response would have been if I had written: How is it only December?

My guess is that the teachers would have more than understood.

Slice of Life: Saturday's first round of crying

   The school year has started, and my slicing life is back on track. All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

What a week!

There are historical events that have happened in my life, and I know exactly where I was at the time. On Saturday morning, I was in the passenger seat somewhere between Wellesley and Newton. For a variety of reasons, Garth and I were going back and forth between CNN news and FOX news as we listened to the turmoil around counting votes in swing states. We were listening to FOX when there was an announcement that Biden was declared the winner. 

"Did you hear that?" I asked. "Did they just say what I think they said?"

I started to get shaky, and I clicked the dial to CNN. 

Van Jones' interview had just started. As he talked about it being easier to be a dad, I thought I heard his voice crack, and my eyes filled up. As it became apparent that he was crying, even through the radio, the tears poured down my cheeks. 

Garth looked over at me. "Are you crying?" he asked. 

Yes I was. 

I had many more crying moments throughout the day as waves of emotion came through. Those were waves I'll savor. Waves of such. great. relief. 

Slice of Life: Election Day Morning 2020

   The school year has started, and my slicing life is back on track. All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

It's 5:15, and I've been up for a while.

Maybe it's the time change.

Maybe I'm distracted and disturbed by the Queen's Gambit. 

I haven't been so hooked on a show since Scandal, 

and I had MUCH more time to binge when I watched Kerry Washington 

take on politicians and corruption. 

Speaking of which...

Today's the day I, 

in my own small part, in a town in a state 

that matters very little to the overall outcome, 

get a chance to take on 

politicians and corruption. 

In a few minutes, 

I will sign off from the computer for a while. 

I will go wake up my husband, 

dry my hair, start the coffee, walk the dog... 

And then we will go vote. 

Yes, I could have voted by mail, 

but I was too worried 

about last minute changes 

or something making my vote not count. 

Irrational, I know. 

In a state that is solidly blue,

 my vote matters very little on the national level, 

but still. 

Sometimes everyone can be subject 

to a little irrationality. 

And then, like many...

I will watch.

And hope. 

Slice of Life: A Zucchini Story Within a Story

  The school year has started, and my slicing life is back on track. All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

On the screen in front of me, I watched William start to giggle. 

"What?" I asked. 

He turned off his mute. "That's not how it happened," he said. "I actually just ate the zucchini, but this is really funny to watch how other people make up the story."

I was working with three fifth-graders who haven't been writing much, so we had brainstormed a quick beginning-middle-end story and each of them were taking a part of it to write. The winner of the brainstorm was when William had tasted zucchini. (I had asked them about a time when they had to eat something they didn't like. Sometimes it's tricky to find a story everyone can relate to for a shared story writing session. Most kids have had to eat something they weren't too sure of!)

"I just counted to ten and ate it," William said. "It wasn't that bad."

I went into the writing piece through the shared Google doc, and I also began adding to the story, finding a place to begin a count. 1-2-3, I wrote. Mom will not let me get up if I don't taste it. When I get to ten, I'll do it, I thought to myself. 4-5-6---- I left off, and William took over, having fun with what he COULD have been thinking. 

After ten minutes, the three of them could not believe the story they created. William had written the beginning, but Annabelle and Rashka had taken over the middle and the end, all working on the document simultaneously.

"I didn't know tasting zucchini could be such a good story," William said. 

What a great thing to realize!

Happy Slicing,

Slice of Life: A Resilient Frog

 The school year has started, and my slicing life is back on track. All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

"Oh no," Bryan said. "The frog!"

I didn't realize how upset Bryan actually was as he leaned over the cushion trunk in the corner of his deck. The two of us were working on identifying all of the youtube videos in our elementary curriculum (a task that's fodder for another post) and he was trying to add cushions to our somewhat uncomfortable chairs. 

"What happened?" I asked, still not sure how seriously to interpret the situation.

"I squashed him when I closed the box," Bryan said, hovering over the not-moving frog. 

From my seat at the table, I could only make out the lump on the edge of the box. I moved closer. The throat was still moving up and down-- that fast beat that frogs do. 

"Is it a pet?" I asked, still not sure of what to say. There was no terrarium of any sort around. 

"No," Bryan said, even more distraught. "But my son loves this frog."

The obvious answer seemed to me to involve picking up the frog if it really was beyond repair, hiding it, and pretending he knew nothing about the disappearance. Bryan's son could just assume a wild frog had found a new home. There were a lot of trees in the backyard that could entice an adventurous tree frog. 

 "He lives in the box with his buddy," Bryan said.  

Bryan was pointing to the other side of the deck box. Another frog clung to the opposite side of the box. 

"That frog must be so upset, too," Bryan said. "I've taken out his buddy."

I was pretty sure that Bryan was coming to terms with potential next steps, but I chose not to point out how much emotional credit Bryan was giving the frogs, but I did appreciate how upset his son would be. As a kid, I was involved in a lot of frog catching, and I remembered those frogs being capable of swimming away after some pretty rough handling. 

"Frogs are pretty resilient," I said. "Let's give it some time."

The two of us sat down to our Great Youtube Hunt. It wasn't a particularly engaging task, but we did forget about the frog for a bit until I came across a video in one of the science units. The video reminded me of the frog, and I got up to check on it. 

Bryan was so relieved that the frog had moved. 

"Whatever you did," I said, "you didn't crush him on the spot."

I'm not sure who has the best story, but there are a lot of perspectives in this one, with presumably happy endings for all. 

Slice of Life: On Petitions, Starfish, and Taking It From Here

 

The school year has started, and my slicing life is back on track. All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

I spent Sunday morning reading not only posts and tributes to Ruth Bader Ginsburg, but also interviews and articles that were written during her life. I already knew a fair amount about her because the recent movies about her, RBG and On the Basis of Sex, had inspired me to read then. 

One of the articles linked to a petition created by the Move On organization to block any nomination until after the November election. Tracing back on my on-line reading path, I'm not even sure how I wound up on the petition page, but I did. 

I don't sign on-line petitions. I don't like pop-ups, and it still freaks me out that Facebook knows exactly what to put in my feed because of what I've been shopping for. 

I started to sign the petition, but I stopped. Did I mention that I don't sign on-line petitions? But I kept the tab open. 

I returned to my posts and tributes, reading quotes, sifting through ones that could work for a call for slices. I watched some videos of past interviews, chuckling at RBG's sly humor, tearing up at the passion and responsibility she felt as a leader.

Somewhere in there, one of my daughters texted about RBG. And then one of my high school friends sent a message in our group text about what we have to thank RBG for as women. 

Those of you who know me understand that I pay attention to signs. This was about more than remembering and honoring. It's about action. What can I do to honor all the work, commitment, and brilliance of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. 

I signed the petition. And I hope they send me stuff to do because I also committed to doing something every day for the next few weeks--right up until November 3-- that honors the legacy of RBG and keeps her work moving forward. I have asked my friends to hold me accountable, and including it in an SOL post also holds me accountable. 

The Starfish Story has always been a favorite of mine. It's the one about the child who throws starfish back into the ocean, trying to save some on a beach where there are way more than can be saved. The child's focus is on making a difference one by one. 

I don't know if I can make a difference, but day by day, I'm going to try. And maybe someone reading this post will try too. 

I loved Amy McNamara's opinion piece published in the LA Times on Sunday where she ended:

So RBG, if you can hear me: Don’t worry. Rest easy. We miss you like hell already, but we’ll take it from here. You have done more than enough.

Let's all take it from here.

 

Slice of Life: Why My Garden Looks Better

The school year has started, and my slicing life is back on track. All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

One of my favorite things to teach kids about is the power of three as they are writing. Repeat a word three times for emphasis. Maybe try a repeated phrase for emphasis. Sometimes even a repeated line over the course of a longer piece becomes a message or a hint of theme. Over the last week, I've gone to my favorite nursery three times. It's a bit of a hike, so it's been especially noteworthy, but my garden appreciates the power of three when it comes to my Meadow View visits. 

I'm not sure I can sugarcoat how my days feel lately. As a coach, I'm not in classrooms, and I'm not sure when I will be. I miss kids. I miss the interactions. My work has involved compressing units, rewriting curriculum guides, developing lists and gathering materials for when/if we have to change course and shift to remote teaching, supporting teachers who are already teaching remotely, debriefing math coaches who have been reassigned to classrooms this year and haven't thought about writing instruction for who knows how long along with a long list of new teachers and grade-switching teachers. The life preserver analogy holds a lot of truth to me these days. 

So my first visit on Thursday afternoon was a self-therapy visit. I'd had a lot of life preservers to throw and a lot of work that I didn't like with a lot of sitting at my desk. I rewarded myself with a self-promised trip to Starbucks if I could finish one of the revised curriculum guides which I did and I went and I got my vanilla latte. And as I headed back into school, coffee in hand, I spilled it down my front. Not just a little. A lot. At the end of the day, I went to Meadow View for my first flower-buying foray. Nothing like mums and asters to cheer me up. (Okay, maybe I'd prefer spring pansies, but that's another post...) 

On Saturday morning, Julia called. She's at college and many of you know she's on the soccer team--she's captain this year-- and as many of you can guess, she's not playing soccer. She doesn't cry much, but her voice on the phone was thick and I realized quickly she was crying. "It all hit me, Mom," she said. "Today would be our first game." So it hit me too. It would have been a great day to cheer-- for those of you not in the northeast, Saturday was a pretty perfect day. When I got off the phone, I carved out another visit to Meadow View, this time to buy some shrubs and evergreens as fillers for some of the beds which still looked scant to me. 

By the time I had everything planted, a friend called asking if I'd been to Meadow View yet this year. Ummmm, maybe... She wanted to go on Sunday. We could take extra cars, but talk on the phone along the way. How could I say no to that? I didn't. I went again, and this time I bought the cute new blueberry bushes, petite knockout roses and yellow grasslike perennial that I'd liked on that first trip. The rest of the day was spent revising my patio garden. 

Three visits to Meadow View. I think I'm done. I SHOULD be done...

Happy slicing,

Slice of Life: How to Get a Non-tippy Desk and Pictures on the Wall

 My summer didn't include much slicing, but the school year has started, and my slicing life is back on track. All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

After a couple requests to the custodian to fix my desk that had been moved over the summer, I told my husband about the tipping and tilting that happened whenever I had to use my computer.

"I'll fix it," Garth said right away. "We can head over there now."

Even though I knew it would take Garth about five minutes, I wasn't ready to give up on the custodian. I knew he was busy, but I'd still been seeing him spending a lot of time chatting it up. The next day, I even took over for him as he directed cars through the distance learning line. 

"Ill take over this job," I said, "if you could just fix my desk."

"Deal," he said, heading inside from the parking lot. 

But later, my desk was as wobbly as ever. Please know that I'm usually good at working through that sort of situation and being somewhat patient, especially when I know people are super busy. However, I couldn't use my computer without holding the desk with my knees and it was too heavy for me to shove a matchbox underneath as I knew how to do from years of waitressing. 

"I can have my husband come over and fix the desk, no problem..." I offered when I saw him later.

"I'll get to it," he said. "I just have to find the parts that should have been moved." 

He'd asked me about those parts before-- a bracket of some sort-- but in the mess of my moved materials I hadn't seen anything like what he was talking about. 

You can guess what the next couple of days brought... a continually tipping desk and a slew of I'll-get-theres. 

On Saturday, I took Garth up on his offer. I texted the principal (as I'm supposed to). I got permission (as I'm supposed to). And we headed for the school (as I had explained). 

In less than my predicted five minutes, Garth had inserted two screws that secured the desk, and in five additional minutes, he hung my pictures as well. Just as he leveled the final one, guess who walked in. 

The custodian was anything but happy or grateful. Instead, he questioned my being there, he scolded me for putting holes in the walls, and he shook his head at both Garth and me. It took everything I could do to maintain my sense of humor and just apologize that he hadn't gotten the message that we were coming in. (Not my fault!) 

"He's a little reactive," Garth said. 

"You think?"

We left, and Monday morning I smiled at my pictures and leaned my forearms on my desk as I typed, grateful for a husband who gets things done-- and that I wouldn't have to ask the custodian to do anything else... at least for a while! 

Slice of Life: Pumpkin Cake of Fall 2020

My summer didn't include much slicing, but the school year has started, and my slicing life is back on track. All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

Three years ago, I made a pumpkin cake to bring as part of the potluck post-game meal that parents brought for my daughter's soccer team. Even though I told everyone how easy it was to make and I shared the recipe with several people, this cake became my signature dish. When we were expecting a big crowd, I even doubled the recipe and brought two cakes. Those were the only times there was ever any left over. 

The team would have had their opening game this week. Julia only decided she would return to campus a couple of days ago, and she left Sunday morning. 

"Do you want to bring a pumpkin cake?" I asked, not sure of what I wanted the answer to be. 

As with many of her decisions, Julia didn't answer right away, and I wasn't sure whether to make one or not. But before dinner, she made a grocery run and returned with cream cheese. 

When Julia left, her car was bursting and a pumpkin cake was balanced on the passenger seat. She will share it with her four housemates, and maybe she will leave some additional pieces on her front porch for other players to grab and go. 

#2020 is rough.