Slice of Life 2024: 6 of 31- Wordle in 6 and then some...

  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! 

  

Maybe Wordle in 6 should have been a clue. 

And maybe I should have paid more attention to the fact that 

I almost didn't get Connections.

 (Pop singers shouldn't have such flexible names, in my opinion.) 

And maybe it had more to do with taking Monday off, 

being buried on Tuesday, 

and having it be a rainy, gray day.

 In any case, I spent the day in a nagging state of self-doubt. 

Maybe some days are like that. 

Slice of Life 2024: 5 of 31- A memorable birdie

 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! 

  

***For Larkin's funnier version of this story, I recommend reading her recount of this same event. ***

I was a little surprised that the man in the pro shop didn't ask if Larkin and I both had clubs since it was definitely an issue yesterday when we showed up with only one bag of clubs. But yesterday was Sunday (presumably busier), we kept right up, and Mel, the man in the shop had told us not to worry about it since it was so early in the season. 

However, Frank the starter had an entirely different approach. 

"We really require all players to have their own clubs," he said to me, sounding more like my study hall proctor than he'd sounded during the friendly banter that he'd been having with Bill, the man who would be joining Larkin and me for our golfing round. 

Frank continued in lecture-like style about the importance of not holding other golfers up and expectations of play. Larkin had to walk away, and I wasn't surprised. Golf courses can be tough places for women, and she's spent a lot of time dealing with men who are shocked when it takes them two shots to pass her one drive. 

My explanation that I was visiting from Connecticut didn't carry much weight with Frank. 

"We have rentals," he said. 

"I'll make sure we do that next time," I said, sounding much more compliant than I felt. 

"You should play best ball or something," he said. 

"We'll be sure to keep up with the pace of play," I said. 

Maybe my golf lingo appeased him. He headed back to the starter box. 

After Bill hit an average drive from the men's tees, I asked Larkin if she wanted to go first. 

"I'm too mad," she said, smiling, but flushed. "I'm taking a few breaths first."

With a bit of relief, I watched my drive go straight down the fairway-- not as far as I would have liked, but respectable, for sure. Then Larkin took her turn on the tee box. I could tell she meant business from her practice swings. They were faster and harder than usual. 

"Look out," I might have said out loud. I don't think Bill had picked up on all that was going on between Frank and the girls. 

Larkin's drive rarely disappoints me, but this one was particularly impressive. In fact, it almost scared me because it came close to the golfer who were ahead of us, probably a 250 yard drive right down the middle of the fairway. For those of you who aren't sure about distances on golf courses, this one was far. 

Larkin didn't look to see if Frank had been watching, but I did, and yes, he had been watching. I resisted the urge to reiterate that we'd keep pace. 

While Larkin has plenty of birdies in her golfing history as evidenced by her birdie pose in the picture below (I would have no idea how to do that pose), this one was probably the sweetest and most memorable. 

Slice of Life 2024: 4 of 31- I didn't get the picture, but I have the memory

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! 

  

As we walk along the sidewalk, I almost step on a butterfly-- no a moth-- lifting and lowering its wings as if it is breathing. It's bright-- orange with yellow spots-- and it's a welcome sight on this far from ordinary early March afternoon in Chicago. 

I pause and poke around the home screen for my camera. Try as my daughters might, they have not made the camera availability a reflex for me. It remains a process. Maybe it's the post-50, set-in-my-ways syndrome, although I try to learn new things. 

Camera ready, I squat down toward the moth, already envisioning the glorious image that could accompany my slice. 

"What are you doing?" Larkin asks, laughing at the shadow I'm casting on my subject. 

The people behind me swerve to avoid me, and they, too, admire the moth once they realize what I am admiring. I don't know if it's my shadow, their footsteps, or the lure of flying that motivates the moth to lift off before I can press the button. 

"Where is it?" Larkin asks. 

I point to the moth on the other side of a locked gate, out of the reach of my camera. 

"In my memory," I reply. 

Still a good slice, we both agree. 

Slice of Life 2024: 3 of 31- Thoughts on What Mothers and Daughters Do

   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! 

  

As Larkin and I walked along the sidewalk, we both laughed as a little girl, 

a semi-novice walker, traipsed along. 

She was adorable-- intent on one foot in front of the other

 and the song she was singing. 

We were both watching as she caught a foot and banged to the ground. 

Her initial reaction sounded more like a laugh than a cry (it was a cry), 

and her mother was quick to scoop her up and reassure her that she was fine. 

Mothers do that.

With the temperature reaching almost 60 degrees, 

Larkin and I continued our walk from the shopping areas to the lake. 

As we navigated the bike paths and the crosswalks, 

there were a couple of times when she grabbed my arm. 

Daughters do that. 

And I'm grateful. 

Slice of Life 2024: 2 of 31- What Writers Know

  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've tutored D. for several months now, and I know that his progress is jagged, but uphill. Some days, he demonstrates all we've worked on, and other days...well, they can be hard. Since our previous session was one of our best ever, I'm working to manage my expectations. That being said, I decide to offer D. the choice of beginning with where we left off or per usual, with some warm-up sentences. He chooses to return to what he was working on. I know I have to give D. a lot of wait time, but I can also tell when writing feels harder than usual. 

Today might feel harder than usual. 

I prompt him my reading the sentence where he'd left off. He reads it too, but has nothing more to say once he reads the last word. 

I wait. His forehead is wrinkled on the computer screen. 

I prompt him again, this time not only reading the last sentence, but also giving him a sentence starter for how the next sentence could go. He reads his last sentence and he remembers the sentence starter, but then... nothing. 

"Are you thinking, D," I ask, "or are you stuck?" That's our usual interaction so that I teach him not only how to write, but also how to ask for help, an important IEP goals as he straddles the gap between teenager and adult. 

After a few moments, he responds. "I'm stuck."

"You know what, D.," I say. "Let's take a break from this part and write something different."

He navigates back to the top of the document, and he completes his who, what, where, why sentence. His forehead is smoother. 

"Should I do my sentence combinations, Miss Melanie?" he asks. (I tried for a while to have him call me just Melanie, but now I enjoy hearing his deep voice call me Miss Melanie. 

His sentences to combine are about how he'd used specific skills on Tuesday in order to complete a beautiful letter to a teacher. He verbalizes his plan first, and I offer him a virtual high-five. His smile is back, and he types his compound-complex sentence, a term he loves to use. 

We continue through the document, and while he's not on like he was on Tuesday, he's more productive. But that paragraph from Tuesday? When we got to it again, it was like a spike strip. 

"You know what, D.?" I say again. "Let's do something else." 

I teach him instructional writing by having him give me directions for how to draw a smiley face on my iPad. He gets the silliness right away when the eyes are underneath the head. By the end of our session, he's laughed and he'd written a lot. 

He's surprised when I tell him all writers I know get stuck sometimes. "That's important for writers to know."

Maybe we''ll finish the paragraph next week. And maybe we won't. Writing pieces serve different purposes, and that one may have already taught D. plenty about writing and being a writer. 

Slice of Life 2024: 1 of 31- I Am, I Can, I Will, I Do... (I think... )

 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! 

  

Over the last several weeks, I’ve been getting nervous about the 2024 challenge. I’ve done it for how long?

Thirteen, fourteen, maybe fifteen years. And it always goes fine. And I have always found something to write about. And I don’t thing I’ve ever missed a day. (Not bragging–just reassuring myself!)

But this year feels different. There’s so much going on outside of school and above and beyond the SOLSC.

Today, I received a few requests to be in classrooms (that's great.)

And had a tutoring session (love the student and appreciate the extra money.)

And received a few emails requiring responses and reflections (got it.)

And had a daughter call to say hi and another one call to make plans and another call to run an idea by me and another one call to process a really bad day (my most important work.)

And I haven't yet say down with my husband to see how his day was (I will.)

It’ll be fine, I’ve said to myself. I can do this, I’ve said to myself. 

Christine D’Ercole is one of my favorite Peloton instructors, and I’m locking into her motto. 

I am.

I can.

I will. 

I do. 

Here comes 31 days of writing in March. Let’s go!

My One Little Word for 2024

 

It's hard to believe that this is my eleventh year of choosing a word as a resolution for the year. As I've written in previous posts about this practice, my words have grounded me and reminded me of what is important and what I'm working on. There's something about a single word that has provided the focus I need to live with intention and remember my resolution for the new year. 

My favorite words have been ones that have multiple meanings. Present remains my most important word, since it inspired me-- and still inspires me-- to concentrate on people around me, and also to think about the gifts I choose for them. 

I've had several conversations with family members, and I've gone back and forth between words for 2024. My daughters have reassured me that I don't need focus-- one idea. They've also convinced me that I have a fairly solid vision-- another possibility. I thought about dream, but I have complicated feelings around that word; I'm not sure it's a resolution-worthy word for my 2024. 

With a little trepidation, my word for 2024 has landed on time. My daughters are in their twenties, so I don't have the pressures on me to chauffeur, help with homework, or make sure there's enough to eat for six people. Without a college soccer player, my weekends feel less structured with opportunities for doing things and reconnecting with people. I've been paying attention to the amount of time I spend on the New York Times puzzles since that amount has grown with my discovery of Spelling Bee and the mini crossword puzzle. I know I spend a lot of time on my Peloton, and the app is quick to tell me exactly how many minutes I've spent in the seat. My freelance work involves explicit logs and schedules, so I have a record of that time. But what else do I do with my time? My hope is that my word helps me pay attention to the balance I find between purpose and play, productivity and idleness, connections between myself and others, exercise and recovery... 

Time is a commodity, and 2024 will be the year I pay attention to how I spend it. I'm looking forward to it!