Slice of Life 2026: 27 of 31- Safe Space

 In March, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life Story Challenge. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

Over the last several weeks, I have gotten to teach a writing class at the high school, and I've gotten to do it in partnership with my book's co-author. A grant is paying for the class, and I'm not sure how students found out about it... bottom line is we have three to five kids each week, and they are... awesome. We have not taught much because mostly, these kids have just wanted to write. We've brought good food. Appealing notebooks. Fun pens. Responsive mentor texts. And ideas for them to try stemming from what they shared. 

Next week is the school's equity week, and we asked the students to work on something they might want to share. L. had a piece ready to go about the challenges of being an American-born Chinese person. S. had been working on a piece about her name which she has shortened when she's at school because it's hard to pronounce, but at home, she is still her name. She's developed her work into a poem about what's lost by fitting in. 

Yesterday, three of the writers were on a roll and ready to go-- in that just-let-us-write state of being. When we asked if they needed anything in the way of support from us, they were very clear: no. 

But, E. was stuck. She's a kid who has moved a lot, and she loved and related to Yard Sale by Eve Bunting. Maggie and I huddled with E. to hear about how it was going, what she was thinking, and how we could support her. 

"I'm not liking the words in it, and how my piece is sounding," she said. "Do you think I could do something with animation to tell my story?"

We had said to the kids early on that our answer would almost always be yes. 

"Yes," we said. 

And then she went on to describe what she was thinking. She had a vision, and she wanted to share parts of her life both with avatars and images. Would that be okay. 

"Yes," we said. 

I wish I could remember exactly how she said that she wanted to include being gay in her piece. When she shared this part of her identity, there was a nervous laugh or hitch or something that I can't quite name. I pointed to Maggie. 

"Me too," Maggie said. "I have a wife and a house and two sons..." She went on, reflecting on what it would have been like for her in her life if she had been confident enough to come out in high school. And I could sit and watch E.'s body language change from nervousness to total comfort. 

It's a moment that I wish I could read others' perspectives about, and who knows? Maybe I can one day. For the time being, it was incredible for me to watch the power of having a young person's identity reflected back to them. 

Slice of Life 2026: 26 of 31- Predicting and Preventing

  In March, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life Story Challenge. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

Most of the work I'm currently doing with students is individual, so I both look forward to and worry about my weekly group of four. The group is a little tricky since they're both friends and siblings, they are not all in the same grade, and the readiness and attention levels vary,,, a lot! We've had a three-week hiatus, so it was easy to predict that I would have some writer-wrangling to do. At a recent conference I attended, Anita Archer stated that "if you can predict it, you can prevent it." I love this line for all aspects of my life, and in this case, I was going to prevent chaos in my writing studio! 

The four of them came in predictably ready for chaos. I greeted them with hugs and welcomes and shhhh's. "Are we working on our books?" they wanted to know. 

"You will," I assured them, "but first, we're doing a warm-up activity."

There was zero-chance that their work on graphic novels would occupy all four of them for the full sixty minutes. It wasn't even a prediction. 

Reminding me of spring puppies, they sat on each other's laughs, interrupted each other, and spoke in louder and louder voices. How could four children create so much energy in one small space? Wow. 

I handed each of them their notebooks and a pen, rolling my eyes at how much debate could happen at pen selection time. I explained that their job was to each take responsibility for a scene and write from the perspective of the character in the video. (I was using Snack Attack. If you've never used it, I highly recommend! It's a great one!) I let each of them know when their scene would start,  and then I hit play on the 3-minute video.

It both depresses and relieves me that a video has the power to settle children. Maybe that's another slice for another day. They watched closely, and they took notes when "their" scene was playing. As they wrote their parts, I played it again for them, so they could catch small details, and then I set the timer for six minutes, telling them that was all the time they had to get their scene done. During those six minutes, they wrote with the same frenzy they'd entered the room with, but it was a quiet and purposeful frenzy. My coaching voice was almost the only one to hear during that time. 

When we went around with each of them sharing their part, they were proud, and they should have been. Their renditions of their scenes were great! 

"You only have about fifteen minutes to work on your graphic novels," I said, knowing that they'd have more like 25, but capitalizing on the time-crunch sensation. 

For the rest of the time, they were focused and engaged in their work, almost annoyed when I began a closure conversation. 

Just the way I like it. Some accurate prediction, and some relieving prevention! 

Slice of Life 2026: 25 of 31- Edgy

 In March, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life Story Challenge. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

Over the last several weeks, I've developed a new community  at our local pickleball place. Dill Dinkers (yes, that really is its name!) has become a regular hangout for our family, as we all love to play. It's made me think about how you get to know people. T. has four kids like me, about the same ages as mine, actually closer in age than mine. #crazylikeme.  P. is a little older than I am, and her two daughters are married. One lives in town, and P. takes care of her granddaughter twice a week.  #someday! Y. is in her late thirties, and she's taking a year off from work. #howfun! J. is a retired state police officer and volunteers around the country clearing out natural disaster wreckage with chainsaws and other tools. #grateful. I could go on. 

We find out details about lives in between games and sometimes sitting around, beers in hand after play is done-- sometimes during play. #NotAGreatIdeaButStill...

I was with a few people when someone asked about the sticker on my water bottle. I have two stickers on my water bottle, one that says Dill Dinkers and one that is the cover of my new book. The DD sticker was first, and the main reason I put it on was so that I would stop confusing my water bottle with other people's. And then Maggie, my co-author, gave me a bag of book stickers as a publication present-- one had to go on the other side of my water bottle. They're so pretty, and Larkin helped design the cover, so... for now, the count is two for water bottle stickers. 

"It's the cover of my new book," I said. 

"What's your book?" they all wanted to know. 

Would we like it?

What's it about?
Where can we buy it?

In a group of non-teachers, it a little hard to explain an educational book that's about writing instruction. Maybe P. would appreciate some parts since she could develop her granddaughter's fine motor skills, but probably not a gripping read for any of them. 

I tried to explain it in non-teacher terms when they asked more questions. 

"It's a little edgy in my world of writing instruction," I said. (I'd love to talk about whether anyone who IS in the teaching world thinks this is true.)

"How does that not surprise me?" L. said. 

"Am I edgy?" I asked. 

"In all good ways," she assured me. 

I'm still wondering about that reaction. I know she likes me, so edgy must have positive connotations for her. Or maybe she thought nothing of the comment. I might ask her more about it the next time we play. 

 But, does going for low-percentage shots now and then relate to larger parts of my life? I'm competitive; is competitiveness edgy?  I'll have to think about that more. Thoughts and reflections are welcome!

Slice of Life 2026: 24 of 31- Outfits

 In March, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life Story Challenge. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

Last night I was finally home with some downtime. 

"Mom, can you come upstairs?"

I'm settled and comfortable on the sofa. I'm thankful she can't see my eyeroll. 

Cecily was debating outfits for the job fair today. She is in the final weeks of her BS/MS program from UConn, and there will be a lot school districts all in one place on the hunt for energetic, passionate teachers like her. 

"Which shirt do you like?"

She had on a striped one with my favorite brown blazer. 

"Does it go okay with the blazer?"

Sometimes, when the girls are getting ready to go out, I might not always tell the truth or have a strong opinion or even study the options that hard. (A risky thing to write in this post since they are likely to read it.)

"Which do you like better?" she asked. "The plain one or the stripes?"

I debated. I envisioned myself as the person meeting her. 

"I like the stripes," I said. 

I returned to my sofa seat, and a little while later, Cecily came down with the plain t-shirt and two tan blazers. (There are currently three women living here, so options exist.)

"The sisters like this better," she said. 

I'm frequently overruled. 

This morning, Cecily has been in my room a few times. She looks great in the plain t-shirt and shorter tan blazer. Her resume is polished, her hair is great...

And her excitement and passion? Wow. I can't wait to hear how her day goes. 

Slice of Life 2026: 23 of 31- The Privilege of Writing

In March, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life Story Challenge. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

I'm writing this slice after writing an entire really good (I think) slice that I am not comfortable posting. It involves an interaction with a parent. 

My new slice is reaffirming the importance of writing. As I wrote, recounting the mom's questions and my answers, I remembered details that will help me when I meet him. I also realized questions I have that I'll explore more later. And I realized some of the issues I had-- and have-- with what teachers either said or what parents heard at a conference. (Is there a difference?)

So...

I wrote, and I realized questions I have. 

I wrote, and I remembered snippets I might have otherwise forgotten. 

I wrote, and I figured things out. 

What a privilege it is to write. 

Slice of Life 2026: 22 of 31- The Bread Lady

In March, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life Story Challenge. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

When I was in middle school, I took care of a pony that lived down the street from me. Almost every day, the bus dropped me off at the corner of my road, and I took a detour to the local bakery before heading to the barn and the wheelbarrows. I'd buy a loaf of French bread from the Ann Howard Cookery for $1, and rip off pieces throughout my barn choices. By the time I got. home every night, I'd eaten about half (maybe sometimes more) of that loaf. My bread weakness goes back a long time. 

The other day, Clare and I were in the car together. About a mile from our house, we passed a left turn, West Mary Drive. I've often noticed the turn because of the happy looking back yard. The house on the corner has a skating rink in the winter and a playscape in the summer. If I were a kid, I'd be happy to live in that house. 

"That's the bread lady," Clare said. 

"What are you talking about?" I asked. 

"She sells bread out of her house," Clare said. "Didn't you see the little storage thing by the road?" Clare has a way of knowing things like this, and she is a pretty good bread maker herself. 

I glanced in my rearview mirror, and I did see a structure that reminded me of a little library that people have outside of their homes, except it was a little bigger than any little library I'd seen. 

Just past the left turn into West Mary Drive, I turned into the grocery store parking lot. 

"Are you turning around?" Clare asked. 

"No," I said, "although it's tempting. I'm just taking the cut-through." You can drive through the access road behind the grocery store to get to the shops on the other side. 

"Her bread has gotten a lot of five-star reviews," Clare said. "Apparently she sells out every day."

"How have I not known this?" I said, considering a turn-around. 

Clare shrugged. 

I don't need a lot of convincing when it comes to good bread. Instead of continuing on the cut-through road, I turned around. Clare started to giggle. Unlike my seventh-grade self, I was able to resist the urge to tear off a piece of our honey wheat loaf. In much more civilized fashion, I cut and toasted a piece when we got home. So did everyone else who was around, and we made quick work of that bread. 

Let me tell you. If you are traveling along Bushy Hill Rd, and you see the sign for West Mary Drive, and there is bread in that bread house, stop. Venmo Helen, and go straight home to toast a piece with butter. You won't be disappointed. 

________

Pictures are from the Honeybear Breads website. 

Slice of Life 2026: 21 of 31- The Poetry of Pickleball

In March, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life Story Challenge. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

My brother called the other day, and his calls usually include a good laugh or two. In this one, he shared the story about he and his very athletic, tennis-playing boys heading to the pickleball courts while they were staying at an AirBNB. I'm going to highlight the racket-playing ability of these boys, as well as John. G. was a D1 tennis player, and J. is one of those natural athletes. John's decent, too. I have no doubt that these three were hitting the ball hard. 

The three of them had only two paddles, so they rotated playing singles until a woman approached them, asking to join in for a doubles game. John told the story in a much funnier way, but she kept asking and assuring them enough that they finally agreed. Even though she was older and didn't look too athletic, she was persistent and she had a couple of paddles she was willing to share. Turns out she was a pickleball rockstar, Paired with G., (the D1 tennis player) because John figured she'd be the weak link (she wasn't), John and J. didn't get a single point. "It was a total beatdown," John said. 

I had a similar, although much lower level, experience last night. I play PB at an indoor place that has regular open plays. When you go to an open play, they assign you courts based on your level, and levels range within their assignments. The rotations become fairly randomized because they are based on who finishes when. I usually know most of the people, but not last night. There were a lot of unfamiliar faces, and a lot of men. In several of my matches last night, I was with three men. The pattern frequently went like this: My partner served, someone hit it back to me (hard), I hit it back, they hit it back to me (harder), I hit it back, someone made a mistake, and we won the point. Or, they served, one of us returned, they hit it hard at me at the net, I volleyed it back. I won most of my matches by a lot because it took them too long to realize that yes, I could handle the hard hits (I actually like them), and I could dish out my own, as well. I could also change up the pace and place the balls where they'd have a tough time getting them back. 

I've come to love pickleball because of these sort of happenings. People are surprising on the courts. There's no question that G. and J. could get to be really good if they decided to practice and learn some shots other than hitting harder, but it's a game of strategy. Because of that, harder, flashier hitters don't always win. In fact, they often lose. Isn't there something poetic about that?