Slice of Life- 31 of 31: And SOLSC 2021 is a wrap

    It's March! That means that I am participating in the Slice of Life Story Challenge. I am happy to co-host this event with the team at Two Writing Teachers. Everyone is welcome!

Kelsey Sorum designed the above graphic as we prepared for a presentation, and as I think about my final post, the words and statements hold more true than ever. In March, I recognize what's hard, what I can try, my process, and I create a stash of writing that I can use for teaching well beyond the 31 says. I can also write some pieces that resonate with groups of learners. These are some of the reasons I write. 

I also write for connections. At the beginning of the month, I tried to explain to Nawal that she would develop relationships that would surprise her, recognizing the similarities, patterns, and vulnerabilities of other like-minded people. It's a special group that shows up every day with the commitment and bravery to write and share it with an unknown and often unseen audience. And even within this group, communities establish-- I don't think of them as cliques, but instead of clusters; slicers who show up at about the same time each day (sort of like the line of people in a coffee shop when we used to go to coffee shops), who write about similar topics, have children the same ages, teach similar grades. A camaraderie develops, and it's real and sustaining in so many ways. 

This month, I was aware of how I steered clear of vulnerability in my posts. I admire you slicers who share the raw, who weave the daily events into something deeper within your past. There were a few days when I thought about it. Those stories stay closer though, some in the pages of handwritten notebooks, others showing up in works of fiction, veiled and screened because they are happening to someone else. I am studying this pattern because I know it has implications for some of the writers I meet in classrooms. What stories do they harbor? Do they want to tell them but perhaps in a different form or through someone else? Maybe. And maybe it's okay to write stories that don't bare truths and souls. I like many of my slices, even though they're not often revealing and emotional. I recognize the complexity of this dilemma, and it's one I'll continue to think about. 

Yesterday, I wrote a six-word post about the almost-end. Yes, there's relief, as writing and commenting every day is pressure. (And there's the back end of the whole thing, as well!) But there's also sadness because I know that in March, I live with a greater awareness, paying attentions to events and conversations that could become the tapestry of a slice. Mostly, I am grateful for all of you for showing up, even in 2020 and 2021, when there are so many pressures and other things do do. This writing commitment and community has made me a better listener, writer, and person. 

Onward to Tuesdays and March of 2022. SOLSC 2021 is a wrap. 

Happy slicing,

 

Slice of Life- 30 of 31: Six words for the end of the month

   It's March! That means that I am participating in the Slice of Life Story Challenge. I am happy to co-host this event with the team at Two Writing Teachers. Everyone is welcome!

Almost over--

Relieved? Maybe. 

Sad...

Grateful.

Slice of Life 2021- 29 of 31: Cecily's post

 

  It's March! That means that I am participating in the Slice of Life Story Challenge. I am happy to co-host this event with the team at Two Writing Teachers. Everyone is welcome!

As many of you can relate to, I've spent the day in search of my post. One of the hard things about the last few day of the Challenge for me is that the posts seem to have higher stakes. Many of you might relate to that, as well. 

And then, I clicked on a link to see if there were any new posts (hold on, I'll explain), and there it was. I knew my slice for the day. 

I have four daughters, and the youngest, Cecily, graduated from high school last spring. At that time, she was debating what to do in the fall. She'd known her college choice since December, so she wasn't waiting to see where she was going. At that point, she was trying to decide if she was going. I did my best to stay away from her decision-making process, but her sisters had no problem weighing in. 

"You only get four years of college," our older daughters counseled her whenever she asked them. "You might as well set yourself up to have four great ones."

The college experiences of two of the girls were impacted significantly by the pandemic. One lost a season of her college career and her senior spring. The other had to leave South America and the semester abroad that she'd looked forward to since she knew that semesters abroad were possibilities. 

Larkin, our oldest daughter, had her full four years. "They were the best," she told Cecily. "You will not want to spend any of them shut in your dorm or doing virtual classes."

Cecily went back and forth, back and forth, and after the eleventh hour, she requested her deferral. For about a week, we wondered about what the college would say, and I have endless gratitude for Skidmore College for granting Cec's request, even when it came after the deadline. 

From September to February, Cecily ran a pod out of our house, overseeing distance learning for between 4 and 6  seven through twelve year-olds. There were hard days. There were days when technology didn't work, when kids were bickering, when the work was confusing, when there wasn't enough work. There were days when no one could agree on a game or a place to work or a story to listen to. And these were just a few of the challenges. Cecily learned a lot about learning and kids. She also had many days when she wished she'd made a different decision. Her friends talked about their experiences at college, posting pictures of dorm rooms and outside classes. Social media is complicated and misrepresentative; friends were not posting pictures of their dinners left in the hallway to be eaten alone. The decision to defer is one that I think Cec will always wonder about. 

On March 1, to my relief and somewhat to my amazement, Cecily left for a gap year program, run by Where There Be Dragons out of Boulder, CO. A good friend's daughter did the same trip in the fall and loved it, so we signed her up, hoping against hope that it would be an option in the spring of 2021. And, despite everything, it happened. She flew to Phoenix (by herself with a changeover and a mask the whole time!), stayed socially distance until everyone got their Arizona test results back, and has been living as a pod with a group of people she didn't know for almost a month now. 

The participants take turns posting on the group's "yakboard", and today, when I clicked to see if there were any new yaks, CECILY'S POST WAS UP! Reading it made me proud, and happy-- so happy. Right now, at this moment, it seems like she's in the right place. 

Happy Slicing, 

Slice of Life- 28 of 31: Wondering about messages when there's no response

   It's March! That means that I am participating in the Slice of Life Story Challenge. I am happy to co-host this event with the team at Two Writing Teachers. Everyone is welcome!

Yesterday, Larkin wrote about finding the cards that she mailed. The cards were in a ditch, so they clearly didn't arrive in the intended recipients' hands. While this discovery might have cost her something financially, it has me thinking about the emotional peace of knowing or learning that a message didn't go through as opposed to the emotional turmoil of wondering whether it's been received but ignored, forgotten, or disregarded. 

Scrolling through texts, I have a few of those. There are categories of them, though, for sure. There are the ones where you don't really care, the ones that don't really matter... but there are also the ones that cause worry. I sent a text to someone I've never met about a writing project-- hers not mine, so it really matters to her and not me. No response. Another text went to a friend I hadn't seen in a long time thanking her for meeting and saying how good it was to see her. No response. That text could have gotten buried, but maybe she didn't like seeing me?!?! I doubt that, but my insecurities surface regularly. And another text to a close friend whose daughter's been having a really hard time. That's a no response that I'll follow up on because while it could be that it's a message that slipped through, it could also be that it's a message that needs too much of an emotional response and would be better with a phone call. 

Whether it's mail, phone messages, texts, there's always that wonder of "did they get it?" when there's no response. I'm a person who definitely prefers to find out that my message landed in a ditch, rather than wonder about the reason for no response. 

Happy Slicing,

 

Slice of Life 2021- 27 of 31: Yesterday, I missed those kids.

  It's March! That means that I am participating in the Slice of Life Story Challenge. I am happy to co-host this event with the team at Two Writing Teachers. Everyone is welcome!

Yesterday, I streamed into a fourth-grade classroom to teach a lesson about the importance of free-writing. I had it set up in a way I was pretty sure would work: a slide presentation with a clear teaching point and learning target, a set up prompts to push thinking, a list of what makes good free-writing, and a video of me doing some free-writing that I could voice-over, showing the students in semi-real time how I used the prompts, asked questions and answered them, crossed off and kept going, tried to say things in different ways... I had such great visions for this lesson. 

Yesterday, at the designated time, the teacher and I logged in, and I delivered my lesson. If someone was watching and evaluating, I probably would have gotten high marks, both for demonstrating the structure of a minilesson and coaching a teacher. 

But it still felt so off. 

Free-writing, in my mind, is pen to paper, and not fingers on keyboards.

Yesterday, I wanted to see what students were writing in real time, over their shoulder-- and I couldn't. I wanted to touch students, lean in, connect, and relate-- and I couldn't. I wanted to see their faces as they discovered a new idea, hear their reactions when they realized writing could lead them somewhere they weren't planning-- and I couldn't. 

Mostly, I've dealt with this whole distance-learning thing. I've related to kids through screens, figured out systems and structures to manage access and independence, discovered ways to bring laughter and meaning into on-line interactions. And it's not the same. 

Yesterday, I missed those kids. 

Happy Slicing,

Slice of Life- 26 of 31: These kindergartners are writers!

   It's March! That means that I am participating in the Slice of Life Story Challenge. I am happy to co-host this event with the team at Two Writing Teachers. Everyone is welcome!

One by one, the kindergartners showed up on the screen in front of me. For the last several weeks, Maria and I have had the privilege of teaching them, this small group of students whose only elementary school experience so far has been through a computer screen. These six students have demonstrated a love of writing over the course of the year, and their teachers suggested that they have some additional opportunities. How lucky are Maria and I to get to work with them a few times a week! We've completed a poetry unit, and today was the final day of a three-week storytelling unit. 

And tell stories they did. 

A. told a story in which she took the perspective of a dog who wished that its owner would stop reading a book and play. As the dog, she included talk, feelings, and even a message about the importance of paying attention to the people in your world. 

K.'s story was more like a fable, and we told him so. "What's a fable?" he wanted to know. Maria won't be with me for the final two weeks of their enrichment writing, and I promised him I'd bring examples on Tuesday when we meet again. 

And V. V. is the quiet student who absorbs every word in a teaching point. By the end of the third session, we could see evidence of all that we taught, and now, this six-year-old writes stories that are filled with dialogue, thought bubbles, and an internalization and demonstration of craft moves. He doesn't always volunteer to share his stories, but when he does, he reads them with expression and fluency, drawing the others into the worlds he creates with confidence and competence. I admire both his humility and his ability to integrate all that we teach him. 

In today's final lesson with Maria, we challenged the students to write independently for twelve minutes before having their sharing time. If they felt "done", there was a Jamboard of what they could do to keep going. And then the challenge Maria and I had was to let those twelve minutes go by, watching the heads down writing, the mouths moving with verbal rehearsal, and the reading and rereading that was happening through screens. Maria and I texted observations, and we voiced over all that we were proud of, in much the way we might have done sets of table compliments if only we were live. 

And then, when Maria and I invited them to read their stories in their best loud and proud voices, we both felt tingles. 

Those students. 

Those stories. 

Those writers. 

Happy Slicing,

Slice of Life- 25 of 31: Keeping a secret-- and telling one!

  It's March! That means that I am participating in the Slice of Life Story Challenge. I am happy to co-host this event with the team at Two Writing Teachers. Everyone is welcome!

For a few days, I had a secret. I don't like secrets. 

"I know I'm the friend who makes the plans," my daughter Julia had said on the day before her birthday, "but still, you'd think they could do something  for my birthday."

But birthdays are tricky these days. I'm sure I don't have to do more than acknowledge the limitations around the social gatherings that many people associate with birthdays. Julia's in an especially tricky place since she chose to take the semester off from college, her college is within 40 minutes of our house, and her friends are still all living in the house they share. Even with facetimes and group messaging and zoom, that's a lot of potential FOMO. 

On Friday, I was relieved when her two closest friends texted that they were coming for lunch on Julia's birthday. That way she wouldn't suspect anything, they figured. 

When I got home from work, I asked Jules how it was. Fine. (I hate that answer.) I wanted to ask more. I wanted to also tell her that there was more to come. I wanted to tell her that she has really good friends. I couldn't though. I'd risk giving away a secret. (Remember, I'm not a fan of secrets.)

My husband told Julia he had a meeting yesterday, and he asked her if she could stay home and meet the invisible fence guy between two and four-- he has yet to call the guy, but Julia didn't know that. 

I wasn't home when they showed up, but the surprise was real. As was their house tradition, they brought matching pajamas for everyone, and one of them dressed Julia in a blindfold so she could dress her without Julia knowing what was being put on.

They decorated, waiting for her to enter the kitchen. 

They brought muffins and cupcakes and presents and champagne. 

And they all sat down and painted pots-- which Julia loves to do-- and sipped champagne-- although not Julia-- and laughed--and it felt maybe a little normal. 

At 5:30, Julia had to leave for her all night EMT shift so I haven't gotten to process it all with her yet, but I'm sure she was pleased. How could she not be? That being said, my mixed and complicated feelings about secrets remain. Would she have been happier with a party to look forward to? 

My best friend's father used to tell us that the secret to being happy is to have something you love to do, people you love to do things with, and things to look forward to. That is a secret I like, and one I won't keep. 

Happy Slicing,

Slice of Life- 24 of 31: A PSA about bathroom knocking

 It's March! That means that I am participating in the Slice of Life Story Challenge. I am happy to co-host this event with the team at Two Writing Teachers. Everyone is welcome!

Based on how I'm envisioning and verbally rehearsing this post, it could be a PSA. I wasn't sure what my slice would be today, and I just discovered it in a moment of non-knocking. 

I do not like to use public bathrooms. I never have, and I like them even less in the era of covid. I don't like the smells, sounds, or occasional sights, and I also don't like the doors and stalls. (How many times have I realized that the little turny thing that is designed to hold the door closed doesn't work and the door swings open at an inopportune time or I've tried to lean forward, hover, and hold the door at the same time. And also do whatever needs doing in that public space...)

School days are long, so there is no avoiding the faculty bathroom. This morning while I was in there, I heard footsteps approach the door. (Yes, I listen as I go.) Then, no knock, just a pull at the door. Even though the rational part of me knew that the lock would work, my reflexive nature sent my heart skipping. Maybe it's because there was a time when this same situation happened, and I had forgotten to lock or the lock didn't work or there was some other sort of malfunction that allowed the non-knocker to pull the door open as I was hovering. 

This morning, I whispered under my breath my wish that people would knock. (I might have whispered another word or two as well.)  And not only knock, but then wait for a moment. Give the potential occupant a second to respond! Don't knock and pull at the same time! Knock... wait...then enter. That way, I can say, "Yes, I'm in here." And no one has an uncomfortable moment. 

And also, maybe my next one will take on the debate and etiquette of leaving the toilet seat up. 

So there it is, my slice for the day and a PSA, as well. 

Happy slicing,

Slice of Life-23 of 31: Giving a dog a bone

   It's March! That means that I am participating in the Slice of Life Story Challenge. I am happy to co-host this event with the team at Two Writing Teachers. Everyone is welcome!

I work on my computer. Clare draws. However, Winnie is not ready for such quiet, low-interaction activities. She lies on the ottoman, close to Clare's feet. With a thud, her bone hits the floor. She looks at the bone, then looks back at Clare. 

"She wants me to get it," Clare says. "Except as soon as I do, she'll drop it again."

Winnie stares at the bone, not wanting to leave her perch. I watch to see what Clare will do, and she continues to work on her drawing. 

Winnie also turns to see what Clare will do. 

And then she lies back down, staring at the bone. Maybe she is debating whether to hop down and retrieve it or just settle in. 

I don't get a lot of time with Winnie, so I'm inclined to spoil her. She arrived at our house almost exactly a year ago. When Clare had to leave her semester abroad program, she turned her energies into talking us into a second dog, one that would be hers. I'm of the camp that puppies tend to make everything better, so Clare was successful in her canine quest. 

I got up and handed Winnie her bone. 

"You know that's going to be dropped right back down within seconds," Clare said. 

I did. It was. 

And I handed back. 

It's a game I'll play. 

There's something so joyful about giving a grateful and playful dog a bone. 

Happy Slicing,

Slice of Life- 22 of 31: Making our gardens

  It's March! That means that I am participating in the Slice of Life Story Challenge. I am happy to co-host this event with the team at Two Writing Teachers. Everyone is welcome!

I wasn't sure how it would work when I first thought of the idea. My second daughter, Julia, is the best at thinking of special things to do for people on their birthdays or to celebrate achievements, so, given that it's her second birthday in quarantine, I wanted to do something she'd love. When we were at a garden center a few weeks ago, she loved the hanging terrariums and succulent gardens, and I went to work finding someone who would make them with us. 

Today's weather helped a lot, as it was 65 and sunny, a welcome change to the cold, windy days we've been having in Connecticut. It also helped to have a creative spirit who happily took on the task of being a succulent garden center to our patio. 

The rest is a story in pictures! 

Happy Slicing!

Slice of Life- 21 of 31: Grocery store manners

 

  It's March! That means that I am participating in the Slice of Life Story Challenge. I am happy to co-host this event with the team at Two Writing Teachers. Everyone is welcome!

I stand next to the display of oranges and apples debating whether to move in and select my apples or wait until the older woman in front of me finished selecting her oranges. My impatience grows as I watch her lift, inspect, and squeeze several oranges. The rate of return is high. Therefore, the number of touches on those oranges is growing. I debate saying something, but I don't. Instead, I move in and take my apples, intentionally reaching for ones that, in my head, I think maybe only the store employees have touched before me-- the ones that are almost out of reach, below others. 

In the seltzer aisle, I wait as another customer debates her flavor choices. I also would like seltzer, and I know my flavor choices, but, unlike I might have a year and two weeks ago, I don't excuse myself and reach below her for the box of pomegranate Polar Springs. I wait, and so does the man behind me. Sometimes grocery shopping takes a little longer, but I have accepted that. It's part of the routine.

As I walk to my car, my thoughts return first to a post Clare Landrigan wrote a while ago-- maybe two, even three years ago. She wrote about returning the grocery carts. There was a time when grocery store etiquette was a short list, with a major task being not to leave your cart in the parking lot. There's more to it now. 

And my thoughts also return to the woman selecting oranges. Maybe there is more to her, as well. Maybe she can only afford a certain number of oranges or maybe they're a splurge. Maybe just going to the grocery store is an act of bravery for her, and she goes because she's been on the receiving end of poorly selected produce too many times when she tried to use the delivery method for obtaining groceries. My system of selection is another privilege I realize I have. If one of the apples I've selected has an inedible spot, I'll cut it out. I'll roll my eyes, but I'll still have plenty to eat. I'll even cut into another apple if need be. 

But I'll make sure to wash them even more than I usually do. 

Happy Slicing,

Slice of Life- 20 of 31: Adjusting like a pro

  It's March! That means that I am participating in the Slice of Life Story Challenge. I am happy to co-host this event with the team at Two Writing Teachers. Everyone is welcome!

On weekend mornings, I head downstairs in my pajamas and slippers, turn the coffee maker on, and greet Okie. We've tried to give Okie free reign of the house, but he doesn't settle well with the second floor as an option. Without the gate at the bottom of the stairs, he makes early morning (and I mean between 1 and 3) house rounds with loud toenails on the wood steps, ears flapping as he shakes, itchy spots as he scratches next to my bed, and then dry spots to lick (loudly). He's not a settled dog when he has too many options. 

This morning, Clare's dog Winnie came bouncing down the stairs as I put Okie's collar on. Clare came home for the weekend, and with Clare comes Winnie. Unlike Okie, Winnie sleeps on beds, very peacefully.

Okie had to wait while I found hers so she could come for a morning relief session, as well. He had to wait again because she takes care of her business right away. He prefers a spot at the other end of the cul de sac. And then, when we came inside, Okie's favorite routine of the day also had a tweak. Instead of getting his breakfast as soon as I put the scoop of food in his bowl, he had to wait for me to also put Winnie's food in her bowl. He sat staring me down with a glob of drool forming. He was quiet, though, and he maintained his manners, sitting down as I placed his bowl on his mat. 

I'm proud of Okie. For a guy who needs his night time routines and space limitations for a settled sleep, he adjusts to other changes in routines like a pro, even when they involve some of life's most important events like eating and relieving.  Good dog, Okie. 

Happy Slicing,