Slice of Life- Appreciating language and music

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

For the last eleven Aprils, I am struck by how difficult it is to change from slicing every day to slicing every week. Even right now, at this moment, as I am on the keyboard on Tuesday morning with the luxury of time because of vacation, something that I did every day -- every day--  challenges me to get going. Once a day felt so much easier than once a week. I could go on with maybes and possibilities, but I'd love to hear if others experience this phenomenon. Maybe it belies the importance of daily writing workshop... In any case--

Alice, Camila, and I had finished an arm workout, and we were deciding what/IF to do anything else. I was visiting Alice at her home in DC, a visit we'd both looked forward to for a while since I had not been able to come to her husband's memorial service. Her daughter, Camila has been working from home since her knee surgery a few weeks ago. Camila was up for anything since her body was craving exercise, but Alice was iffier. 

"I've been trying to take some of the classes in Spanish," I said, and Camila was instantly intrigued. She wanted to know what dialect. 

"I can barely keep up with the subtitles and recognize the 3-2-1," I said. "I have no idea."

Camila wanted to know, and we pulled up Camila Ramón on my Peloton classes. (Camila, my friend, LOVED the instructor's name!)

Once the music got going, Alice, who was in the adjoining kitchen, came right back in. 

"What is this?" she asked. Alice grew up in Chile, and Spanish is one of several languages she knows. She had no problem pinpointing the country in South America through the instructor's dialect, and she tried to explain the nuances to us. 

Alice didn't take another workout class, but she danced and sang along in the adjoining room. Watching her, Camila (my friend) and I had much less trouble pressing through the repetitions, even though it was our second class. 

"Now this is good music," she said several times. 

Writing and reliving this moment reminds me of the importance of language and music for bridging gaps and creating joy. 

Slice of Life: Somersaults for a how-to lesson

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

"You're doing an observation?" I asked as the principal walked into the kindergarten classroom where I've been coaching and working with the teacher and students. "Now? In writing?"

I knew that she'd been trying to get in for an observation for a while, but she'd been aiming at word study, and not writing. 

"Is that okay?" she asked. 

"Sure," I said, thinking about Susan Kennedy's analogy of a duck she wrote about in one of her March slices. I was working hard to look calm and collected on the surface, but my brain was spinning fast.

The teacher had a lesson to teach. I had planned it and written the demonstration text. We were in the beginning phase of a How-to unit. I knew we'd talked about her leading the lesson, but I'd given her the piece before the weekend. What was it about? I was working hard to remember. 

"What do you want my role to be?" I asked. "I've been coaching in here hard. Sort of co-teaching."

"Can she do this herself?"

"She should be all set," I said. 

"Then let's see," she said. 

The teacher called students to the rug and headed my way with the demonstration text that was still the one I'd written which is when I remembered why she'd been so ready to be the leading teacher as opposed to the back-up: the how-to involved teaching someone (who would be me) to do a somersault, with the teaching point around what steps were missing or needed to be clarified. Great. 

I took out my hair clip and handed my glasses to the para in the room to await my instructions. Warning: If you ever write instructions for yourself to do a somersault, make sure you remove those accessories! Also, I had not written to tuck my head, another key step in doing a safe somersault. 

And as one of the adults pointed out after the lesson and my demonstrated somersaults in the middle of the circle, you probably want to consider who gets the backside view of you before you push off with your feet because, well.. yeah, they get quite a view...

Slice of Life 2022: 31 of 31- Last day reflections

 It's the last of March which means the last day of the Slice of Life Story Challenge, hosted at Two Writing Teachers. Join us on Tuesdays to slice and comment. All are welcome.

Throughout this whole month, for the last thirty days, with one exception when I wrote a six-word story about having nothing to write about, I have written my slice in the late afternoon or evening, and I have posted it the next morning. I may have had a few restless nights when I posted some time between midnight and five because it seemed more productive than flipping my pillow over and over. 

This morning, I am beginning this final slice of the month in the morning, and I know that I will return to it over the course of the day to add and revise, to try to get the words and the feelings right. Since this has been my eleventh March of slicing, I knew I'd finish, and I knew I'd build connections, and I knew life would feel a little different throughout the month. Somehow, I forget about the letdown that happens for me on April 1. 

I love connecting with you, even if I don't comment as faithfully as I wish I would or have in the past. 

I love thinking about what my slice will be throughout the day. 

I love mentioning the Challenge to other people and watching them process and then consider doing it one day. 

But there's more that I love about the month. 

I love that it helps me live a little more intentionally, with a little more time for pausing, and a little more time to consider and reconsider the events of the day. 

I love that it provides me glimpses into the lives of other people in far off places or into the daily joy, struggles, and reflections of other people down the hall or a phone call away. 

I love that it reminds me how hard it is to write on command without much to say that seems important or worthy, even when I have a strong command of the keyboard, spelling, and sentence structure. 

This morning, my slice has taken me less time than I thought it would, maybe because the reflections are so clear. As I say annually, I will write on Tuesdays, and I historically become sloppy about them. This year, I will try to do better to keep up, nudging myself to find a slice over the course of a week. How does that feel harder than finding one every day? There's such truth in the power of habits. 

Happy March 31, everyone. May you come up with a great April Fools Day prank for a loved one, and, if I don't see you live some time soon (and some of you I will!) I'll see you on Tuesdays, as well as on March 1, 2023! 

Slice of Life 2022: 30 of 31- Thinking about brick and straw houses

 t's March, and March means the Slice of Life Story Challenge. All are welcome to join the challenge of noticing and writing about the moments of daily life that are stories.

One of my favorites second-grade teachers stopped into my office this afternoon. 

"I never see you anymore," she said, and I agreed. 

We covered a lot of personal life for the first few minutes, and I have to say that her baby girl is one of the cutest babies I've ever seen. She offered some kindergarten teaching tips because she started her career as a rock-star kindergarten teacher before moving from grade to grade, and I have met my match in a kindergarten class. Then we started talking about her current writing classroom. She and her team are doing a quick foray into fairy tale writing before moving on to their opinion writing unit, which is focused on writing about reading. 

"You want to be provocative," I said. " I could even come in and we could be theatrical."

We had some good laughs, envisioning the students' reactions if I came in and debated Jabari's bravery in Jabari Jumps. Yes, he gets a lot of credit for jumping off that diving board, but he was scared to to it, and instead of being true to himself, he caved to all of the pressure around him. Is that true bravery? I could argue that... Mercy Watson's mother is one of my favorite characters to question in front of adoring second-graders because was she really that responsible of a parent? I could argue that, and I could provide (and have provided) plenty of text evidence. 

Our favorite one that we landed on ended up being the first of the three little pigs, especially since they are deep into fairy tales. (Yes, I know that's a third-grade thing, but our district has kept it in second grade. That's another post...) One of her students is on a point system, and his goal is to get ten points a day. By his afternoon music class, he'd already earned his ten points, so he didn't participate. When asked why, he was very clear that he had already earned his points for the day, so there was no need. Tough to argue that line of thinking for a kid who doesn't like music and doesn't have intrinsic motivation yet. 

"I think he could relate to the first little pig," Hayley said. "I think he might really get into this."

As we talked about that first little pig, we thought about his brilliance. He didn't need to work hard at building his house because someone else was taking care of that for him and would welcome him in if he got into trouble. Why work harder than he had to? Why do more than was required? That first little pig had a happy outcome even though he had built his house of straw! 

As we thought about it more and laughed about it harder, we recognized that we both have plenty of people in our lives who metaphorically build straw houses and come hang out in our metaphorical brick ones. A lot more to think about when it comes to those three little pigs! 

Slice of Life 2022: 29 of 31- What would I want besides a bench?

   It's March, and March means the Slice of Life Story Challenge. All are welcome to join the challenge of noticing and writing about the moments of daily life that are stories.

As I walked through the school library, the library media specialist, Susan, was busy shelving books that had been left on the bench in the library. 

"When I retire," she said, "if that day ever comes, I do not want--"

She paused and for a moment, I had time to try to guess what she was going to say. A book? A plaque? 

"A bench," she said, finishing her sentence. 

As I walked back to my office, I contemplated her wish-- or rather, her non-wish. I have a feeling that a lot of students leave books on one of the benches in the library, so it's a bench that's not used for the purpose one might think, but there's a part of me that likes the idea of a bench. Unlike the wreath that gathers dust and commemorates someone and unlike the pictures and plaques, the bench has a purpose and offers some comfort, potentially.

When my father died, we installed a bench at his fishing club. It's not a place where I can easily go since it requires a membership and it's an hour-long drive, but I like to think about people sitting on that bench and maybe having known my dad and maybe remembering a laugh they might have had with him. He had a lot of laughs at that club, tipping rowboats, sneaking a swig of bourbon, comparing catches of the day. I've never thought hard about what I'd want commemoratively, but Susan got me thinking. 

The practical me's first question is what's the budget? Ideally, I'd like a scholarship for someone who values literacy. I'll have to think about the specific component of literacy, but it would have to relate to writing. Yes, a scholarship or an award for someone who values written expression. And if there's a smaller budget? Still something literary, I think. A book, probably a picture book, and one that brings joy to readers, as much joy to as many readers as possible.

So no, probably not a bench, although I want to explore her statement a little more. Maybe tomorrow I'll ask Susan more about her aversion to a bench.   

Slice of Life 2022: 28 of 31- A six-word story

   It's March, and March means the Slice of Life Story Challenge. All are welcome to join the challenge of noticing and writing about the moments of daily life that are stories.

Slice today? 

Nope. 

Tired! 

Sorry.

Tomorrow...

Slice of Life 2022: 27 of 31- Asking for a friend...

   It's March, and March means the Slice of Life Story Challenge. All are welcome to join the challenge of noticing and writing about the moments of daily life that are stories.

Following someone around unfamiliar roads, especially when said someone is also unfamiliar with those roads offers opportunities to consider many metaphors.

We were supposed to leave the house at 8 for my nephew's 9 am tennis match, but, as  often happens when large groups are trying to coordinate departure times, we started slightly behind schedule. After just a couple of minutes into the ride from our airbnb house to the tennis complex, my brother, leading in his rental car, signaled and u-turned. I, with my mother in the passenger seat of my mother's car, followed. 

Not too much farther along, he signaled again, this time turning into into a neighborhood and wending his way through some quiet streets. I, with my mother wondering out loud why we were on said streets, followed. 

We emerged on what seemed to be the same road we'd been on before the neighborhood tour, and I considered asking my mother to pull up my own google maps, but decided against it. Instead, I followed. 

On a semi-state highway, carved and wound through New York rocky mountains, my brother stepped on the gas. I glanced at my mother, a speed-limit follower, and one to fret over speed, but I pressed my foot down on the gas. Yep, I continued to follow. 

Because the tennis match was against Army at West Point, there was a security check as we approached. Two signs indicated the lanes for entry. I didn't read them; I followed.

John's reverse lights went on, and his head came out of the driver's window. I read his lips and the sign. We were in the line for authorized entries, not the line for visitors. I backed up, let John shift into the correct lane, and...you guessed it, continued to follow. 

We had several more challenges before arriving well past 9 and catching the last point of George's first tennis match, including the wrong security gate, a long and slow-moving clearance check, and a few more u-turns -- any one of those last three challenges could have been a slice of life, especially the line to present special forms and id's to people behind the glass in a lower-level room with no cell service. 

What if George had only had one match (he didn't-- there were two more, and we saw plenty of tennis...), and I followed compliantly without really knowing where we were going, without looking around at my own environmental guideposts, and without ever taking charge and setting up my own navigation? 

Asking for some (school-aged) friends...