Slice of Life 2026: 9 of 31- A Book Giveaway

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. 

On Saturday morning, I arrived at the Lansing Convention Center, excited and ready to present at the Michigan Reading Association Conference. Way back when, when I'd agreed to head to Lansing, March 7 felt like a long way away. Time is like that. 

I'd promised myself that I'd remember to take pictures. I didn't do a very good job, and this is the only one I took. When I thought about it more, I realized that I have always presented with other people. We take pictures of the group of us together. It was strange to present by myself. 

Throughout the presentation, I worried about the time. An hour goes by fast when you're trying to fit everything in, and you know there's too much for the number of minutes. Again time is like that. It takes forever when you're waiting for something special to happen, and it flies by when there aren't enough minutes. How is that one minute is the same amount of time regardless of what is happening? 

Since I knew that my new book would not be available to purchase at the conference, I brought a copy with me. After I finished the session, a few people stayed to ask questions and talk about practices. One woman pulled up a picture of her 3 year-old daughter. 

"What do I say to her teacher?" the one whose name I wish I knew asked. 

The teacher had sent a picture of several children hard at work tracing sight words. 

This woman's daughter held a pen in a fist grip. "She has no idea what she's writing," the woman said. "I wish there was more fun happening."

We talked about how hard it can be to be an educator and send your children to school. Of course, there are things you'd do differently or that you wished weren't happening, and yes, tracing words before a grip is mastered could be one of those wish-they-weren't-doings. 

"Your daughter will be fine," I said. "She has you." 

But we both expressed some worries for some of the children who don't have a knowledgeable parent. 

"What can I say to her?" she asked. "Without coming across as the parent who knows everything."

I'd brought one copy of our book, and on an impulse, I handed it to her. 

"Take this," I said. "Tell her you were at a conference, and the presenter gave you a book, and you're sharing it. All true. Maybe she'll find ideas that will benefit your daughter and also other children in the class."

"You're giving this to me?" she asked. 

"I am," I said. 

She gave me a hug and headed off to lunch. Maybe someday I'll know her name.