Slice of Life 2024: 31 of 31- Time well spent

 It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

 

Last night was a big event in our house. We live in Connecticut, and we had an important double-header to watch! Some of you may have gotten to know Clare over the month, and she was sitting next to me on the sofa. During a commercial, she opened her computer and was typing like crazy. 

"What are you doing?" I asked. 

"Slicing," she answered. 

Of course she was. We had just had an interaction that we had agreed was totally sliceworthy. By the end of the commercial break (okay, maybe a couple of commercial breaks), she had posted her capture of the family scene, outing me once again (she's done that a few times over the month) for losing my patience while giving directions. (Important backstory: I've been in healing mode, and sometimes it's harder to tell people how to do things than it is to do it myself. It's the control thing I work to manage...another post one day.) After telling the pizza-making team multiple times to cut the dough and having them question me, I added an expletive to the direction. Sometimes expletives are necessary. Clare had a loaded squirt gun next to her for barking dog management, and she squirted...me!

One of the aspects I love about slicing in life is living life over again. Moments, possibly fleeting and forgettable, bask in the spotlight of a slice, captured in this community. Family interactions wind with reflections and even future conversations, securing higher probability of permanent memories, a probability that seems like it's becoming less and less probable as I feel more and more forgetful. 

My One Little Word for 2024 is time, and so far it's been a good one. I've loved the time I've spent writing my slices this year. I've loved reading other people's slices, and I will make time to read what I've written in past years to fill the void I'll feel tomorrow when I wake up and don't reach for my computer and the Two Writing Teachers tab. 

Thank you to all of you who have been part of my community this month. Every slice and comment feel like time well spent. 

Slice of Life 2024: 30 of 31- Hugs Hurt

 

   It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

 

My mom and I went to the mall together yesterday on a quest for some fresh clothes for Julia. As we walked toward Madewell, we spotted a good friend of my mom's, a woman I've grown up knowing. My mom and Mrs. F. walk weekly, so seeing her wasn't a hug-worthy event for the two of them, but Mrs. F. came at me for a hug. She caught herself, though, even before I flinched and backed away. 

"Oh wait," she said. "I can't hug you. You're hurt."

I placed both hands on her shoulders, giving her the hug that makes me okay these days, and I thanked her. 

Tracy's post about hugs  was one I loved this month, and when I read it, I increased my awareness and generosity with hugs. But my hugging capacity came to a screeching halt on March 19 when I had a melanoma removed from my back. The cut was a lot larger than I expected, more painful than I expected, and has taken more energy to recover from than I expected, but I'm getting there. Maybe today, I'll try a little exercise... 

My incision site is also completely out of view. 

Over these eleven days, I've been struck (both meanings of that word purposely intended) a number of times at how many times people in my world go to touch me. A tap on the shoulder...(please don't.) A pat on the back...(Still trauma-inducing!) An oncoming hug... (I'm sorry- I just can't.) I have found myself dodging and avoiding, wincing and flinching at the threat of any potential touch. On many occasions, I have tried, without getting into a long explanation about my health, to explain my touch aversion. 

I know I'll continue to heal, and I'll return to my hugful ways, but for now, hugs hurt. As a natural hugger, I've spent time thinking about hugs and all the different types of huggers in my life. No doubt there are invisible injuries others might have that make hugging uncomfortable or even painful. I don't know what I don't see. And for some, the explanation could run deeper and be more painful than mine. 

Slice of Life 2024: 29 of 31- I got stung (Actually I didn't...)

   It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

 

I don't remember exactly what I had on my first guess, but it was enough. Maybe one yellow, one green. Second guess: going fine. And then somehow I missed that my fourth letter was in the right place. (How the *&^%$ did I miss that?!?!)

When I got to my sixth guess, there were two choices left. I'm still stinging, even as I write this 48 hours later. I guessed stunt and not stung. And just like that, my two hundred and something streak is over. As Larkin wrote in the family group where we all report our daily scores and I had to report my fail: NOOOOOO!

I've read other articles and analyses about the power of Wordle, and I agree with almost all of them. A little bit of dopamine: yes. Not a time sponge: yes. You're going to fail one day: NOOOOOO! 

Okay, yes. And even a little publicly since the family knows, as well as anyone reading this. 

A life lesson here for sure. And some things to analyze. 

I could have cheated. There are daily hints. I accept hints for Spelling Bee. I've been known to accept hints for Connections. Sometimes I'll ask my husband if this is a word when it comes to Wordle, but that's a different level of hints and cheating. 

Maybe I should have cheated. I can't believe my streak now stands at 2. 

Maybe by next March, I'll be in the three hundreds. 

Slice of Life 2024: 28 of 31- The Power of Creating

  It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

  

K., a new teacher in our district emailed me a couple of weeks ago asking for fairy tale exemplars since she was beginning the unit. I was a little embarrassed that I didn't have any to send her way, and I've been making it a mission to make sure I collect some this year and get them scanned and into a folder for future use. 

This morning, I checked in on K. 

"How are the fairy tales going?" I asked as students were trickling in. 

K's class is one of those purposeful places where kids know their routines, they get themselves settled, and they begin their morning work. 

"They're going well," K. said in her typically understated kind of way. "Q., bring over your green folder." 

Q. brought over the folder and pulled out her story about Wooferella. Wooferella was one of the most engaging, cohesive, well-elaborated adapted fairy tales I've seen from a second-grader. Sometimes I wish my face and my eyes weren't as revealing of my thoughts as they are, but in this instance, my emotional transparency worked in all of our favors. 

"E. can you show Mrs. Meehan your adapted fairy tale?"

E. was thrilled to pull out her story about the Waffleman who had similar, but different, adventures as a gingerbread man you might know. If I had said create a perfect exemplar fairy tale adaptation, E.'s was pretty close. 

As the students continued to arrive, K. asked them to start their own morning meeting (which they did), and we talked a little about what she's been doing that has made the kids so successful. She talked about a few of her recent lessons and pointed to her interactive bulletin board where kids could take the charts they needed and return them when they're done. I've shared these types of bulletin boards on blogs, in my books, and on staff newsletters, but I've never worked one on one or in a PD session with K. 

"Who taught you to teach writing like this?" I asked. 

She smiled and shrugged. 

"I'm serious," I persisted. "There are lessons, but the ones you're describing."

She explained that she and the students got bored because they were doing everything in the lessons, so she focused in on craft moves and other "fun stuff."

Finally, she reflected that in her old district, there hadn't been a writing curriculum, so she had to create it herself. That helped her understand a lot of it more. 

She had to create it herself. 

That helped her understand it more. 

I don't need to write about this interaction in order to remember it, and it's an interaction that I will remember and reflect on for a while. Deep, deep respect and gratitude for K. 

Slice of Life 2024: 27 of 31- High Lanterns

  It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

  

I loved Jess Carey's post today about holding the lantern high. When I first started reading it, I was ready to text her and connect about Tom Lake since I finished the book over the weekend. But her post wasn't really about the book at all. Instead it is more about mentors and leaders and nurturers... those people in our lives who figuratively hold the lanterns high, providing safe pathways but only if we're looking up, maybe even higher than our comfort zone. 

There are a couple of school leaders who I admire because they hold high lanterns for teachers, and I sent the post to one of them. She wrote back right away. "I can name the lanterns in my life." As I thought about her response, I thought about what a powerful discussion it could be with teachers in the building about who are or have been their lanterns, what made them effective, and how they can be lanterns. I'm sure there is more that could be woven into that sort of a discussion. 

Throughout the day, I've thought about the people who have held lanterns for me in my life. My first principal was a powerful one. He asked hard questions. He posed authentic wonders. He celebrated. He appreciated, even admired, vulnerability. He made it safe to take risks. I cried in his office. The work was hard, and the learning curve was steep. 

Professionally, he was the best lantern holder I've ever had. I can't go back and create lantern holders in later parts of my career, but Jess's post has me thinking about how I can be a better lantern holder for teachers in my reach. Am I holding my lantern high enough? How can I lead better and, like my first principal did, keep the path safe but purposeful? How do I balance the height of the lantern with the stability of the ground? How do I pay enough attention to the people I'm with in order to adjust the height. 

And maybe, the most important question for me at this stage in my life is how do I coach/nudge/remind my four daughters to find and cherish lantern holders in their lives?

It's late now, and it's been a busy day, so I haven't gotten to think about all of this as much as I want to. Writing will help me to continue processing. Maybe a daughter will read this and we'll talk about it as well. Maybe someone else will bring it up to think about. Much gratitude to Jess for inspiring me to return to Ann Patchett's powerful dedication to Kate DiCamillo. 

Slice of Life 2024: 26 of 31- Whack-a-Mole in Writing Workshop

 It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

  

Doesn't writing class sometimes feel like a game of Whack-a-Mole? A third-grade teacher was out today, and I subbed in. A slice of life within the writing workshop went something like this:

Sure, T., I can show you a few cool tricks for how to write a conclusion. 

B. are you getting started? 

Yes, E., you can go to the bathroom.

Here's one way you can connect the beginning to the end, T. Here's...

S. I'm not sure why you're sharpening the pencil. I gave you a pen to use last week so you wouldn't have to spend so long getting the perfect point in the middle of a thought. 

B. Is there a problem with the chromebook? You should be writing by now. 

T., here's another way you can connect the beginning to the end. 

What do you mean you don't have a topic, C., we set you up with one last week and it was all planned out. 

S. could you work hard to do your oral rehearsal at a volume that is a little lower? 

T., here are two other strategies you can use in a conclusion. 

Okay, I might be exaggerating, and at the end of the workshop when I had to dash to another school, students were all writing, and the sub was (rightfully) amazed at how much kids had gotten done and what they were righting, but man, sometimes the work involved in getting those writers going warrants a big cup of coffee or a stuffed animal prize like the ones you win after a round of successful Whack-a-Mole. 

Slice of Life 2024: 25 of 31- A couple insights before the end of the month

It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

  

Every year, slicing has led me to insights about writing, and I think if I curated my March 31 posts over the years, I could integrate many of my ideas. This year feels different than previous years have felt. This year, three of my four daughters have been participating. Over the years, I have developed relationships with many slicers. However, slicing with people I already know and and love has offered me windows into their daily worlds, insights into their hopes and dreams, and admiration of their writing abilities. 

My conversation with Julia, daughter #2, really got me thinking. "Larkin is such a good writer," Julia said as we talked on the phone. "She's so naturally talented and funny and good at expressing herself."

Insight #1 that I shared with Julia: Larkin is not a strong writer because she is naturally good at it. She's been slicing every March since she was 15, and she writes almost every day for her work. Yes, she was a strong writer in kindergarten, but she has worked really hard at her craft. Dave Burgess, the author of Teach Like a Pirate gave a keynote years ago, and his message has stayed with me. One of the most offensive thing people could say to him was that "It's so easy for you." His point was that this comment devalues all the work he's done to make it look easy.

Julia also shared that sometimes she reads Larkin's posts after she's written her own, and she feels inferior. What an important point to consider as I work with children every day, and I don't know that I will ever consider the fragile egos of children enough. 

Insight #2 that I thought about after our conversation: Yes, it IS hard to see, feel, and be inferior to other writers, and YES, there are all different levels of writers in classrooms and in the world. And ALSO, very few writers think they're as good as they are. If I didn't share my writing until I felt like it was the cream of the crop, I'd NEVER share my writing. No matter how many posts I write, how many books I publish, and how many positive reviews I receive, I feel vulnerable and insecure about how my work measures up. I remember years ago when I brought children to visit Patricia MacLachlan, and one child read a passage from one of her books to her. She placed her hand over her heart and said, "Oh my goodness, I wrote that?" Even a Newbery Award winner is surprised by her own writing. 

If you are reading this, thank you. Thank you for being an audience, and a part of this amazing community. 

Slice of Life 2024: 24 of 31- The perfect cupcake and the snake

 

 It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

  

Yesterday's post is the prequel to my work with M. 

______________________________________

Over the next fifteen minutes, M. proved to be one of the most complicated writers I've worked with. Those duck feet I mentioned in my first post? They were working double-time. 

I set up three pages for her, reaching into my bag of tricks for paper with only about 8 lines per page.

 Beginning: Polly makes cupcakes and there's too much frosting.

Middle:  Too little frosting

End: Just the right amount

We talked through the story a number of times, me trying to keep it simple, M. trying to complicate the plot but then forgetting what she'd thought of, planned, and said. Finally, she had a fairly clear sense of beginning, middle, and end. I handed her a pen I love, pointed to the top left corner of the first line, and suggested she start. She found the word "one" on a classroom chart, and she worked to copy it, line and curve, by line and curve. Not really letter by letter. She wrote "day" on her own, making the "a" in a way I've not seen before. 

"How do I spell Polly?" M. wanted to know. 

I went through the strategies I have to get kids to write the sounds they hear. M. got all four sounds, but fell apart when her e at the end (not a y, and that was ok with me for the time being) was going the wrong direction. At least with a little reassurance, M. could pull herself together almost as quickly as she could fall apart. 

My next realization was that, while M. had a fair amount of phonemic awareness, she had almost zero concept of spacing. Therefore, even when her letters matched the words she was trying to write, deciphering her message was an enormous challenge because spaces between words were non-existent. Furthermore, she did a lot of forgetting where she was so the writing sample contained many repeated words, adding to the challenge of understanding her overall message. She was a complete and thorough case study of all the cognitive work that written expression involves. 

We went back and forth, and she wrote more and more. When she wanted to involve a snake in the story, I went along with it, and in the final scene, Polly and the snake enjoyed perfect cupcakes together. I have no idea where the snake fit in, but the kid was writing, and she was approximating a little more spacing between her words. 

To honor the work she put in in order to get her ideas onto the page, I did something I almost never do, co-writing with her. I wrote a sentence, and then I passed it to her. We went back and forth until the story was (relatively) complete. 

And then, both in the spirit of my own curiosity and in order to motivate her, I pulled out my computer and an AI tool I've been piloting. 

***Leah Koch gets the credit for this idea, as she shared it when Sarah Valter, she, and I presented about AI in Colorado. We wrote about some of the ways we've been using AI for writing instruction in a mini-series. *****

M. and I hadn't written much, so it took me only a minute or two to type her piece into the "Paste Text" box, and then 

We waited as the system concocted the story, and I was super worried about what the snake was going to look like, but the end product was almost as good as the third cupcake-- you can check it out here, if you're curious... 

One of the things about M. that I am learning is that she has very childish reactions and also very adultish reactions. She actually did start crying while she watched her story with self-proclaimed tears of joy. 

The best part was that when I walked in the next day, M. had another story about Polly ready to work on, and she told ME that she was going to be working hard on her spacing. 

Please know that there is a LOT of work and worry that remains, but this was a fun piece in the story to be part of. 

Slice of Life 2024: 23 of 31- Coaxing and Coaching a Writer

  It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

  

Because this slice turned into more of a half a cake (an analogy that works well with this story, and you'll see why), I'm going to share it in two parts. Come back tomorrow to see what happens in the story-writing life of M. I have a feeling this child will generate many more slices in my career. 

__________________________________________

Last week, I worked in a second-grade classroom, focusing on M. M. has recently entered our district's SIT process, becoming the focus of a team of teachers and specialists and becoming the recipient of targeted goals and explicit instruction that could document growth or lack thereof. Among other concerns was written expression, my ticket into the process and the room. 

The class has been studying fairytales, but as I sat with M. and talked to her, envisioning a possible story, she struggled to follow the trajectory of a fairy tale scaffold. On the one hand, I admired the glorious adventures her  magical dolphin was having as he tried to escape the shark who was going to destroy his home and eat him, I also knew there was no way she'd be able to produce the words that would relay the underwater odyssey, To be honest, at many points in her rendition, she paused and admitted confusion. 

There are times when I'm working with a child like this, and I have to go into my duck stance. Some of you may relate. It's that stance when I have to look very calm on the outside-- like I know exactly what I'm doing and I understand the child completely. Meanwhile, under the surface, my brain is whipping around faster than ducks' feet, trying to figure out the pros and cons of various responses and instructional moves. 

As she talked, I was creating an internal table of what I noticed and what I could do, what worried me and why, what sort of identity she had as a writer and how it could lead to a stronger one, the progressions upward of what she was doing and little nudges to build a VERY fragile writer up without having her deteriorate into a puddle, a very real and well-practiced possibility. I'd been warned about her emotionality and her propensity to dissolve. 

All that being said, there was no way that she was going to write the Dolphin Odyssey yet. 

I suggested that the two of us create a series together, a series with a main character named Dan (a fine c-v-c name.) M. wanted the character to be Polly, and I agreed. I needed simple. Beginning, middle, and end. And something that M. could get behind. Something appealing. 

I don't like to take choice away from children and tell them what to write, but I'll do it when choice is getting in the way of production, knowing that once a child gets better at production, they can usually manage choice better, so I presented M. with a few Melanie-designed scaffolds, made on the spot-- remember... my feet were paddling HARD!)... that leaned into the Goldilocks scaffold of too much, too little, and just right. 

"I want the cupcake one," M. said, to my delight. I wasn't sure she'd go for this since it involved the temporary abandonment of dolphins and sharks. 

-----TO BE CONTINUED----

Slice of Life 2024: 22 of 31- Changing Plans

  It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

  

I was busy this morning, making sure my bags were packed, the sheets were clean for the dogsitter, the house was vacuumed, and we'd be ready to leave for Vermont as soon as I finished my 3:30 tutoring session. For several weeks, we've been looking forward to this trip, staying at the mountain home Sharyl and her husband have renovated. We had good wine to bring, great cheeses, and a couple of housewarming presents. 

Sharyl's office is next to mine, and this morning we brainstormed toppings for grilled pizza. Mushrooms? Sure. Pepperoni? You bet. Caramelized onions? Oh yes! 

But not too much later, Sharyl stopped me in the hall. 

"We've got a problem," she said. 

Her mother-in-law fell this morning, and she'd broken her hip. While I feel sorry for all of us, no question about who I feel the sorriest for. Over and over, I am reminded of how hard it is to get old and how tenuous life can be. It's such a small distance from where we are standing to the floor, and there's so much hurt that can come from a fall. 

We'll stay home this weekend. We'll enjoy basketball and rain instead of snow. (Vermont's expecting almost a foot of snow tomorrow.) And we'll send lots of healing thoughts to Crispin's mom. 

Slice of Life 2024: 21 of 31- Find My Devices helped me out!

  It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

  

I walk in from work, relieved to be home a little on the early side and happy to make myself a cup of coffee and sit down to answer some lingering emails. Maybe I'd also get a report finished that has been taking up space on my to-do list. Java in hand, I reached into my bag for my computer. Where was it? I set the coffee down and got more serious about my search for my handy-dandy MacBook Air. It's thin, so sometimes it can hide within a folder and papers. My workbag usually starts off its week without too many extras, but by Wednesday afternoon, the clutter is building. Where is that computer? By the third time through the bag, I'm worried, and by the seventeenth time through the bag, I'm cursing myself. Where is that computer? 

One of the hazards of being the district's writing coach is that I'm in all the schools, and I'm constantly leaving stuff. Usually it's a piece of clothing. My water bottle has spent many evenings in strange rooms. And writing supplies frequently find new owners. But my computer? This is a first. 

I think back to where I've been. I did not even bring my bag into the last school; I had only run in to give students their writing contest prizes. It wouldn't be there. I text the teacher from the school before then. 

Can you check if I left my computer? It would be on the back table. 

As I wait for her response, I start doing the math. That's the farthest away school. Eighteen minutes there. Eighteen minutes back. I'd just barely make it back for a Zoom meeting that's on my calendar. I swear. FML. So much for sitting and having a little down time and coffee before the next onslaught of evening responsibilities. 

Still no response from the teacher. Wait. Did I have my computer out when I was at that school? I can't remember. And then...why didn't I think of this before... I open the app on my phone. Find My Devices. 

Isn't technology the best when it works? My computer was showing up at the school BEFORE the farthest-away school which was the CLOSEST to my house. 

I left my coffee on the counter, drove over, picked up my computer, and laughed at myself with the teacher. And, by the time I got home, my coffee was still hot, and I had time to answer emails, finish a report, and even solve connections before my Zoom meeting. 

Slice of Life 2024: 20 of 31- Another writer in the family!

 It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

  

I was just finishing a tutoring session when my phone buzzed. It was Julia calling. I tapped the automatic Can I call you later message, and she buzzed through with a couple of texts. 

WHAT?!?! Julia's writing...? Could that mean what I think it could mean? 

Julia is my second of four daughters. When I first started the SOLSC 13 years ago, my oldest daughter was curious. A natural writer, Larkin jumped right in and became the community's youngest member. Larkin has been back every year since, sharing her memories, reflections, and insights on high school, college, new jobs, dating adventures, and more. I think this is the year that she can say she has been taking this challenge for more than half of her life. Last year, my third daughter, Clare, had Challenge Curiosity. "Can I do it, too?" she wanted to know. 

When the girls were in high school, I was often a little sad because of their reading and writing lives-- they had so little enjoyment when it came to literary activities. After college, their love of reading has returned, and I was beyond thrilled that now Larkin AND Clare were reconnecting with their writing selves. Additionally, it is SO much fun to read their posts throughout the month. Every day I look forward to the email in my inbox that one of them has a new piece to share. 

All four of my daughters talk to each other a lot, and they've caught on to the energy of some of the posts. Larkin and Clare are funny in a way I wish I could be, and their humor comes shining through in their writing. Maybe the humor element inspired Julia to jump on board. Maybe the FOMO led her to the writing pond. Whatever the allure, I'm both incredulous and excited to welcome her. Woohoo! Another Meehan is slicing! 

Slice of Life 2024: 19 of 31- Julia is 26!

 It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

  

UPDATE: I'd already written this post when I got a text from Julia that she is JOINING THE CHALLENGE for the last couple of weeks!! (WHAT?!?!?) This will be my slice tomorrow, but for any of you who want to wish her happy birthday personally, she's HERE! In this community!! https://juliameehan12.wordpress.com/

Welcome to Julia, and happy birthday to her! 

My post for Julia when she turned 17. 

My post for Julia when she turned 20.

My post when she turned 21.

And when she turned 22 in 2020. 

And last year when she turned 25.

I had fun writing this post because it is an annual tribute to my second daughter who has a birthday in March, and it's...today!!!  For those of you with children around this age, you might relate to the fact that 26 is a tricky age for some adult children because it is the arbitrary age when children have to leave their parents' healthcare plan. Off you go, Julia! On to the land of COBRA and higher deductibles! 

Reading through my past posts of previous March 19's, there are so many memories. Slice of Life has provided a documentation of over a decade of Julia's birthdays. 

Deciding on college? Documented. 

Making the decision to transfer? Documented. 

Celebrating 21 with bracketology and a tequila drink? Got it. 

And 22 at the start of the Pandemic. Got that, too. 

Today Julia is 26. 

As I looked through the pictures of the two of us over the last year, it was fun to remember the surprise meet-up at a UConn basketball game, her introduction to Solid Core, some great pickleball matches, boat navigation, cheffing it up with salmon bowls, and moving her into an apartment in Boston. 

It's been a tense year with 87 (yes, 87!) completed essays for medical school applications, intense waiting games, and last minute shopping sprees for interview outfits. 

And it's been another year of loving her and being grateful every single day for having this woman in my life. 

Slice of Life 2024: 18 of 31- A PSA for Wearing Sunscreen

It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

  

Consider this a PSA for sunscreen, sunshirts, and annual checks! 

Dawn Sheriff had reminded me to enjoy my hair appointment, and I walked into the salon with her post in my head. Dawn pointed out the luxuriousness of sitting and having someone else dry and style your hair. She's not wrong, and last Thursday, my plan was to hit pause on my to-do list and relax in the styling chair. 

On the previous Friday, almost a week before my hair appointment, I had my annual skin check. An unpleasant but somewhat regular occurrence when you're a redhead with a history of many childhood sunburns is a quick freeze of a spot or even an occasional slice. Caitlin, the PA hadn't liked the look of a spot on my shoulder blade, so she biopsied it to be on the safe side. 

My best friend is the dermatologist, my daughter worked in the office for a couple of years, and I've had a couple other previous but harmless (relatively) spots, I know the drill. You get a call sooner than later if there's anything serious to worry or talk about. So, with almost a week between me and the biopsy, I was pretty sure I was in the clear. I was just waitng for a confirming call or an email with a message in my portal. 

Calynn was in the middle of painting my roots when my phone buzzed. It was Jen's office calling. 

"Let me take this," I said. "It's a dr's office and a quick one."

Jen's voice on the other end of the phone made my stomach flip. I know too much about protocols and when and why the providers call as opposed to the office staff. 

"I love you," I said, "but I don't think I'm happy that you're the voice on the other end of this call."

A couple of minutes later, I had a phone covered with hair goop, a diagnosis of stage 1 melanoma, an date for office surgery the following day, and a VERY failed resolve to relax and enjoy my hair appointment. 

These events happened a few days ago, so now I am sore, but healing. I had to wait to post about it because Garth and our youngest daughter were in Paris when all this happened-- no need to share the news across the pond. They were a little stunned to hear about my cancer adventure during the less-than-a-week that they were away. 

I've ordered a few fresh sun shirts-- Amazon has some great and inexpensive options. If you've been considering updating your summer attire with SPF clothing, do it sooner rather than later. Melanoma's no joke, and a little spot requires a not-so-little excision.  

Slice of Life 2024: 17 of 31- Melon Memories

  It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

  

Certain activities have a way of bringing me back to spaces and places. Cutting melons is one of those activities, and I had a couple to prepare this morning. 

Jobs were tricky to come by when I was in college, so when my roommate and I got hired by one of the campus dining halls, we accepted those positions! Every Sunday morning, regardless of how much we drank on Saturday nights (which was sometimes a lot) and regardless of how little we slept (which was sometimes not much), we were in the kitchen of the West Side Dining Hall by 7:30 am, and our special weekly task... the Sunday brunch fruit salad. 

Armed with white-handled, extra sharp kitchen knives, we became experts on navigating the various bugs that traveled in melon boxes, determining cantaloupe and honeydew ripeness levels, mastering the most efficient ways to slice and dice all types of fruit, and many more fruit-related trivia. We also looked really great with our hairnets and dining hall whites. If any of our friends teased us about the hairnets or paper hats, we pointed out the possible consequences of not wearing them. 

The Sunday morning fruit salad was legendary, and we cashed in on many instant friendships when we told people we were the force behind those semi-healthy concoctions. (We probably didn't know at the time how much sugar went into those big jars of pre-peeled oranges and grapefruits.)

To this day, cut and cutting cantaloupe connect me to my collegiate Sunday mornings. 

Slice of Life 2024: 16 of 31- Dogs and Days

 It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

  

My dogs know the days of the week. Or at least they know them during the school year when there are no days off or vacations happening, but sometimes I get confused about days of the week during those times, as well. 

It's been a long week for them. Spoiled pooches they are, Garth works from home, and he's been away this week. Each morning, there has been sad disapproval from both of them as I pack my bags and give them extra cookies. 

Really, I say, It's not that long until 3:30. I promise I'll take you for a walk then. 

Really, I imagine them saying back. How could you leave us again?

Okie is more independent, but Winnie is a product of 2020, and basks in a voice to listen to, a foot to lie on, a hip to press against. 

All week, they've studied my morning routines. 

Is she taking a shower after she feeds us? 

Drat. 

This morning, I don't know who's happier with the morning routine: me or Winnie. She's chased the squirrels from the yard, completed her morning business, and eaten breakfast. 

When we came back upstairs, I didn't have to wonder about what was happening next. I knew I would be getting back into bed--writing a slice, reading a bunch, and then enjoying a few chapters of Tom Lake. Winnie couldn't be much closer, her bottom pressed against my legs, and Okie's back in his bed, as well. 

We all know it's Saturday. 

Slice of Life 2024: 15 of 31- A Student Decided to Hold It

   It's March, and March is for slicing.  Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices! 

  

  

It had been a long morning of meeting with other literacy specialists and trying to figure out next steps in terms of programming.

What are our core beliefs? 

What do we want to make sure remains intact? 

How will we roll out whatever program we decide to adopt, and--oh yes-- how will we pay for it?

All of these questions and more were asked and not or only partially answered as we created slide decks and analyzed programs. 

As my attention waxed and waned, F. walked through the conference room on his way to get his lunch. With all of the consolidation of spaces over the years, our conference room doubles as the refrigerator space for teachers, and people often have to walk through meetings to get their lunch. 

F. is one of those teachers who is always ready to try new ideas. When I returned from a conference, he wanted to know what I'd learned and what new tricks he could try in his classrooms. I told him about one-minute writes, and he has been using them over the last few weeks. Even his students will find me in the hall and want to share a short writing piece since he always gives me way too much credit. 

 As I was at the end of the table, it was easy for him to share a story with me. 

"K. was in the process of signing out to use the bathroom when I announced a one-minute write," F. shared, "and he turned right around."

"'I'm not missing that,' K. said." F. was chuckling as he told me the story. 

During a time when I wonder about my impact, this story made my day.