62 pestañas

We write in our other languages on Fridays!

Day 31 of 31 at TWT!

El último día de marzo. El treinta y uno. El último día del desafío. ¿Qué escribiré hoy?

Me siento un poco raro porque no escribí cada día. Tomé un descanso de ocho días durante la semana de las vacaciones de primavera, y aunque estoy contenta con esa decisión, me hace sentir un poco fuera de lugar hoy. No llevo conmigo ese sentido de ímpetu, de orgullo, de celebración. Por eso, no escribiré ni una reflexión ni una entrada de festejo, aunque sí estoy satisfecha con mi experiencia durante este desafío y las 23 entradas que he escrito. 

Tampoco quiero escribir un cuento corto de algo que me pasó hoy. No me faltan ideas posibles: 

Podría escribir del almuerzo especial cuando me reuní con mi hija mayor y mi esposo para comer juntos un camión de tacos en la escuela de la hija (que se encuentra al lado de la mía), y le introduje a ella a la riqueza del agua de jamaica, que a ella le gustó tanto que se lo tragó por completo y tuve que comprar otro para mí. (- ¡Es el mejor almuerzo que nunca! - proclamó ella varias veces.) 

Y podría escribir de nuestra noche de película, cuando vimos Tinker Bell: Secret of the Wings y las dos hijitas se conmovieron tanto cuando Tinker Bell y su hermana recién descubierta tuvieron que separarse que casi no podíamos continuar con la película. (- ¡No quiero separarme de Sis nunca! - gritó Arco Iris, brincando de una esquina al otro antes de esconder su rostro en mi regazo.)

O podría escribir de mi orgullo y regocijo cada viernes cuando veo la participación de varias personas en MultiLit Friday, y sé con certeza que he hecho algo especial, he marcado para siempre esta comunidad y las experiencias de estas personas, porque tuve la valentía de preguntar si podríamos ofrecer esta oportunidad de afirmar y honrar el multilingüismo cada semana.

Pero, no sé por qué, no me apetece por completo ninguna de estas ideas. Entonces, sin saber qué escribiré, abro mi ordenador. (¿el español de España otra vez, se notan? jaja) Abro Chrome, con mis pestañas tras pestañas de planes y actividades para mis estudiantes. Intento no mirar al trabajo que me queda, que me sobra, y abro otra ventana con mi cuenta personal. 

La ventana se abre en blanco. Sin pensar, abro Gmail y Blogger. Creo una entrada nueva, y, cómo no puedo decidir qué escribir, abro Two Writing Teachers. Quizás visitaré a las otras personas que han escrito algo para MultiFri, y escribiré una entrada sobre la alegría de leer sus entradas... me digo... cuando, de repente, me doy cuenta: ¡MIS PESTAÑAS! 

¡Ya debo tener abierto Two Writing Teachers en mis pestañas! ¡Y todas las entradas interesantes que quiero leer un día de estos! Me apresuro al historial, antes de que se limpie. 

Historial... busco rápidamente con los ojos la colección de pestañas... 62 pestañas. ¡Allí está! Antes de hacer clic, miro dos veces. ¡¿62 pestañas?! ¡¿Sesenta. y . dos. pestañas?! ¡¿SESENTA. Y DOS?! ?¿Realmente he dejado abierto sesenta y dos pestañas abiertas? Sé que tres son Gmail, Blogger, y Two Writing Teachers. Pero todas las demás son las entradas muy interesantes que he encontrado en la colección de enlaces cada día de marzo, y que me han sobrado después de visitar los tres que más he querido leer, dejando las otras por otro día - cuando tenga más tiempo-.  ¿Realmente he dejado pendiente 59 entradas para leer otro día, en mi optimismo eternal? Me río, casi a carcajadas. Sabía que tenía unas cuantas entradas que quería leer... pero... ¿sesenta y dos? Entrecierro los ojos y examino las pestañas. Además de las tres al principio, he dejado también mi blog con la entrada de ayer publicada, y al final, encuentro el tesauro. Pero, sí, las otras 57 son las entradas muy interesantes que leeré un día de estos. Me río otra vez. Cincuenta y siete entradas abiertas que me han sobrado después de dejar comentarios en tres entradas cada día de los veintidós que he escrito antes de hoy. 

Quiero calcular. Al menos 3 entradas leídos cada día (sé que a veces leí cuatro), por 22 días... son al menos 66 entradas de las que ya me he disfrutado... ¡y todavía me sobran 57! ¡Casi igual! ¡Me tomaría otro mes para leerlas, en vez de un día! Una carcajada sí me escapa ahora. 

Entonces, si no he dejado un comentario para ti en una entrada particularmente interesante, hay una posibilidad bastante buena que tu entrada se encuentra entre mis muchísimas pestañas. No sé si acabaré leyendo todas o si algún día decidiré darme por vencida y cerrarlas, pero sé una cosa con certeza: me encanta esta comunidad. 

Me encanta escribir con Uds. Me encanta leer lo que han escrito. Me encanta echar un vistazo a sus vidas y presentarles la mía. Me encanta notar las estrategias de escritura que han utilizado y jugar con las palabras, experimentado con lo que aprendido y dándome el reto de mejorar un poco cada vez que escribo.

 Y sobre todo, me encanta el apoyo y la amistad que he encontrado con Uds. 

¡Feliz fin de marzo! ¡Feliz día final! Feliz Multi-Lit Friday. Les veo los martes, vecinos, les prometo este año. 

(¡Mira, he escrito una celebración y una reflexión, después de todo!)

Slices of this day

Day 29 of 31 at TWT!

One of my favorite parts of the Slice of Life community is being inspired by other writers. Whether it's a unique craft move, a new format, or a story idea I connect to, I love discovering ways to improve as a writer, notice-r, thinker, and liver of life. 

A couple of days ago, I enjoyed Sherri's post, "On This Day". It was so much fun to see her dive back into her past writing to catch glimpses of her life, on one certain date, over the years she's been blogging. It was striking to consider the enormity of time passing, the differences in life moments and writing ideas from year to year, and the accomplishment of participating in this challenge for years. Immediately, I was excited to dive back into my own past slices across time and see what I might find!

11 years ago, I was nearing the end of my very first March Challenge, after slicing on Tuesdays for about 6 months prior. On March 29, I wrote the 3rd post in a series about a particular EL student, and when I first re-read this post, I couldn't figure out which student I had written about, because I thought I was teaching EL at the time, but the story didn't match any students I remembered from my years at the first building I taught EL. Suddenly, I realized that this story was written back when I was still a Spanish teacher, and I got to help out with EL students at one of my schools for one period. This was truly a lifetime ago. Right away, I rocketed through a time tunnel, and I could see this student perfectly. Her whole story came rushing back to me. Little did I know then that she was just the first of so many incredible EL students with inspiring resilience that I would have the pleasure of learning with, learning from, and yes, teaching. What an amazing girl. 

10 years ago, it was Spanish Friday, and I remembered watching the Good Friday processions in Spain years before. Now, I was teaching high school EL for the first year.

5 years ago, I skipped writing on this day, but the day before, I (ironically) wrote about writing when it's hard, and the day after, I wrote another Spanish Friday post about the processions. Now, I was an experienced EL teacher and a mom of 1, recovering from a year with two pregnancy losses and praying for a rainbow baby.

Last year, I wrote about spending time with the Afghan refugee family we met as part of our district's collaboration with a local refugee resettlement agency. Now, I was a mom of 2, living through a pandemic, teaching middle school EL for the first year after having taken a year off to keep my girls safe and healthy, and back to fully slicing every day in March.

This year, after having chosen to take a break from writing during my spring break, I'm enjoying the last few days of the challenge and looking forward to presenting the classroom challenge to my students. For the first time, I've gotten several colleagues to slice with me, and I happily churned away this afternoon pulling together my favorite resources for them to use if they decide to try the April challenge with their students. On my wrist, my new bracelet reminds me how sweet my girls are and how much I love them.

So many slices. And on them, cherished comments from blogging friends old and new. Such drastic change, and yet so many common threads. I love to teach. I love language. I love writing, even though it's hard. I love this slicing community. I love making a difference. And I love my family.

I can't wait to see what next year will bring.

Lo hice, lo estoy haciendo, lo haré

On Fridays, we write in our other languages!

Day 10 of 31 at TWT!

¡Ya estamos en el décimo día! Es casi imposible creer. Hace unas semanas, no sabía si podía participar este año. ¿De veras podía encontrar (mejor, crear) el tiempo para escribir al final de estos días tan llenos? ¿Me quedaría fuerza (mental o física) para escribir después de, por fin, acostar a mis hijas y sentarme en el sofá? Casi no me podía imaginarlo.

Pero quería hacerlo. Recordaba la emoción de escribir, el ánimo que me daba dejar volar mis palabras por los dedos, la alegría de pintar una escena con palabras, la claridad mental de buscar, darme cuenta de, y guardar los momentos pequeños de mi vida. Quería hacerlo otra vez. 

Me acordaba del entusiasmo de leer los comentarios de los otros escritores, tanto los amigos como los desconocidos. Sí, quería hacerlo. 

Y además, quería pedir a mis colegas que me acompañaren. Quería que ellos conocieran el poder de esta experiencia y esta comunidad, y quería inspirarles a quizás traer la experiencia a sus estudiantes también. Quería formar parte de un grupo de colegas escritores. 

Entonces lo hice. Rellené el formulario para participar, hablé con mis colegas, y me dediqué a escribir por las tardes en esta hora preciada antes de acostarme. Está bien perder unos días, me dije. Cada día que escribo es un día más de lo que habría escrito sin el reto. Anticipaba perder las fuerzas, quedarme sin tiempo, quedarme sin ideas. Quizás escribiré tres o cuatro días a la semana. 

Pero ya estamos en el décimo día, y no sabía qué escribir hoy... ¡no por una falta de ideas, sino por una sobra de ideas, por una cascada de ideas! (Y, si soy honesta, porque no me convine escribir unos en español: algunos por ser tan difíciles escribir en español, y otros porque quiero escribir conversaciones que tomaron lugar en inglés, y me siento raro traducir algo que pasó en inglés al español... entonces estos ideas guardo por otro día.)

Ya escribí por nueve días. Estoy un poco más cansada de lo habitual, pero sobrevivo. Estoy escribiendo en el décimo día. Y no quiero parar, ni modo. No quiero perder ni un día. Tengo demasiadas historias para contar, demasiados recuerdos para guardar. Me gusta demasiado el sentido de vivir como escritora. Seguiré escribiendo. 

Imagínense: 

casi no lo intenté. 

Y ahora lo hice, lo estoy haciendo, lo haré. 

Idea waterfall

Day 6 of 31 at TWT!

"... because it's March and I have to..."

"Write a story every day?!" Sweetie interrupts me, jumping up and down.

"That's right!" Did she remember from last year? I don't think I've mentioned it much yet this year!

"But, how do you think of something to write about EVERY DAY???? I can nehhhhhver think of anything to write about!" she moans. 

"I look for writing ideas all day! Like, at first, I was going to write about baking 'nana bread, but then the ice cream truck came! So now I get to save the 'nana bread story for another day, and I'm already ahead on ideas!" I grin. We're only 5 days into March, and I already had so many days with multiple possible slices that I probably have enough writing ideas to get me through the next week! 

My writing brain feels like that waterfall we visited on Saturday; story ideas are just spilling over, churning and tumbling over each other as they flood over the normal riverbanks. How have I gone a whole year without writing? I have so many stories to capture! Unbidden, a list starts flowing through my brain: when I took my students outside, and when that kid from Ukraine surprised me, and when I introduced the Girl Scouts to the bearded dragon, and...

"How could you write a WHOLE STORY about 'nana bread?" she wrinkles her nose. "It took like two seconds!"

"I slow it down with lots of small details, like Rainbow Girl looking for the ingredients."

"Mrs. C is always wanting us to add details," she grumbles. 

"Details make your story come alive!" I nod. "I also add dialogue. Do you know what dialogue is?"

She shakes her head. 

"Dialogue is when you make the people in the story talk to each other. A small story idea is actually the best, because it gives me room to add so many little details and moments of dialogue that give my readers a movie in their minds!"

"Oh, I like to add that in my pictures!" She brightens for a second, then complains, "but Mrs. C. says we shouldn't draw so many pictures anymore."

"Well, you're learning so much about writing that now you can start to give your readers pictures with your words! So instead of putting your dialogue into the pictures, you can add it in with your words, and you can add other details to, to help your readers see the pictures in their minds! When I write my story about making 'nana bread, I'll show you how I slow that moment down and turn it into a mind movie for my readers! I can show you some of my other stories too!" 

It makes me sad that she doesn't yet love writing like I do, but I hope I can help her love it more by showing her what a part of my life it is. She's already gotten more interested than she was last year, sometimes writing in the various journals she's gotten, so I want to capture this momentum. If I let my idea waterfall flow over her, maybe she'll soon have one of her own!

Full of stories

Day 16 of 31 at TWT!

 "What don't you like writing?" It breaks my heart that Sweetie has made it quite clear this year that writing is her least favorite part of 1st grade. 

"It's so long, and I don't have any ideas! I can't think of anything to write about!" She sighs in the backseat as I drive her home from Irish Dance practice.

"You're always talking, sharing your ideas and stories! Writing is just talking but on paper!" I pause. The line between mom and teacher is getting blurry. "Think about your favorite people or places. You could have so many stories to tell about Emilia or Daddy! You should make a list of writing ideas! That's what I do!" The mom-teacher line is going from blurry to erased. "Sometimes I have my students make something called a heart map..."

"Oh yeah, my teacher had us make those!" she interjects, but then admits that she doesn't really use it to help her write. 

"Maybe you can add some new things to it to give you fresh ideas! Like what about favorite places? I bet you'd have so many stories to tell about Myrtle Beach or the zoo, or Wildlife Camp..."

Her eyes start to brighten in the rearview mirror. "Oh! Yeah! And I'm thinking of Girl Scouts..."

"That's right! See, you have so many stories! All writers get stuck for ideas sometimes or have days that we feel like we don't know what to write about! That's why I keep a list!" I giggle. "In fact, that's what I wrote about last night! Remember how I'm doing that writing challenge to write a new story about my life every day in March? Last night, I couldn't decide what to write, so I looked at my list, and it had so many good ideas that I ended up writing a story about my idea list and how I use it!"

"Really?" she giggles too, then pauses. "How long is March?"

"We're halfway through! So I've already written 15 stories!"

"Even on the weekends?"

"Yep! I'm trying to write every single day in March! It's hard, and sometimes I feel like I'm running out of ideas, but that's when my list really helps me!" 

We turn the corner into our neighborhood, and a familiar song comes on. "I'm thinking of a story about (our favorite local Irish band)!" she declares, then adds slyly, "but I'm not going to tell you yet."

"Oooh, see?!" I grin. "Look how many stories you can find in your life!"

The list

Day 15 of 31 at TWT!

 Hmm, what should I write about today? I try to start brainstorming in the tranquil 20 minutes between coming home and getting Sweetie from the bus stop, but no particular story is tugging at me today. 

Often during March (or on the rare Tuesdays that I actually remember it's Tuesday), a slice (or even 2 or 3!) will jump out at me sometime during the day: a special moment or beautiful scene that I consciously try to slow down and freeze as it happens, mentally rehearsing the details in an attempt to remember it as vividly as possible when I have the chance to sit down and write later. 

Other times, an idea has been sitting in my head for days or weeks, just waiting for the chance to be written. Or a past memory pops up, begging to be remembered in story form, perhaps ushered in by a song, picture, or other small occurrence in the day. 

Of course, there are always days (especially in mid-to-late March!) when I don't know what to write. Some days, I don't feel like writing. Other times, like today, I want to write, but when I toss ideas around, nothing feels quite right. 

That's why I have the Blog Ideas List, my faithful companion through these 11 (is it really 11?!) years of blogging. Once housed in Evernote, now just a Google Doc, my ever-growing list is a messy, living combination of bulleted topics, details I want to include in those topics, half-written sentences and paragraphs I don't want to forget, notes to myself that nobody else would understand (even some that take work for future me to decode!), and mentor text links to blog posts that inspire me or that I want to try to emulate someday. The slicing topics section is most extensive, but there are also sections for other posts I want to write about my teaching (in the mysterious someday in which I somehow have "more time", hahahahaha). 

And sometimes, like now, I set out to write one slice and discover that, as I travel the winding road of writing, another one writes itself instead, and what I thought was going to be an introduction is already an entire post. So I tweak the post title (if I've written one yet) and add another note to the list!

Living as a writer means an ever-growing list, just like living as a reader means an ever-growing to-read stack!

writing love

Day 3 of 31 at TWT!

 It's already after 8 p.m. I've done a little planning and sent a few emails, and it's a Thursday in that stretch of late winter where the weeks are long, the weather can't make up its mind, and spring break is still far away enough to feel truly distant. I might be a little too cozy in my hooded, fleece, footed onesie on our cushy microfiber couch. It would be so, so easy to just turn on the tv now and try to keep my heavy eyelids open for one show.

So why am I writing?

I love the March Challenge.

I love the community that has been built over time, and the way that even as it ebbs and flows, with old friends dropping off and new ones dipping their toes in, it's still somehow one community. I love "meeting" new people and "visiting" familiar friends as we share our stories. I love checking my Gmail app too often in anticipation of comments after I publish a post.

I love the nudge to try something that seems almost impossible, to push myself to rise to a challenge that, in the midst of teaching and momming and everything in between, seems nearly out of reach, yet enticing enough to try. 

I love that the challenge is not just to complete the writing, but to play at being a better writer, nurtured by such a diverse flood of mentor texts that all sparkle with possibility in their own ways: "Hey, try this!" "Ooh, look at that!" Formats, topics, layers of complexity, familiar and unfamiliar strategies woven together in unique ways. 

I love talking to my students about how I'm challenging myself and how I'm living like a writer, building anticipation for the April student challenge.

I love living like a writer, with story ideas swirling in my brain, constantly on the hunt to notice the tiniest details that might otherwise escape me.

I love knowing that all these little moments, thoughts, and feelings that would have otherwise faded into the mist of the mundane are captured, preserved, waiting for someday-me to click on tags and titles and be transported back to this snippet of time, to this exact version of me. 

I love playing with words. I love the feelings of my fingers dancing on the keyboard to catch the thoughts that tumble through my brain. I love reaching for just the right word or phrase, testing and saboreando different possibilities until I find the one that's just right, exacto, in one idioma or another. 

I love stepping back into the little-girl-me who snuck out of bed to scrawl poems in a notebook after the whole house was still, the me who kept a notepad and pen on the floor by my bed for middle-of-the-night epiphanies or words that jumped and scampered through my brain as shafts of moonlight sliced across my room.

I love writing. I love, love, love being a writer.

And I want everyone else to love it too. <3

Should I?

 

Day 1 of 31 at Two Writing Teachers!

March is here. 

So busy.

Too busy?

But I could make time.

I could finally conquer the art of the short post.

A 

SHORT 

post?

Right?

Make time for what's important.

Be a model for my students.

So tired.

Too tired?

But writing refuels me.

Feeling those words run and scamper

across my mind, through my fingers, out 

into the world.

Watching, listening, noticing every delicious detail:

living like a writer.

Writing what I live.

So stressed.

Too stressed?

But longing for connection and encouragement.

Remembering comments, slices, moments, 

friendships 

built with words and through screens

across miles

and even seas.

I could just 

skip it.

Wait 

for 

a better year.

So much going on,

in my life

and all 

around.

But so many reasons to dive in!

to tradition

to determination and persistence

to community

to life and memories

to a piece of myself.

March is here.

So glad to see you all. <3

Every writer

Tuesdays at Two Writing Teachers!

 "I did it! I didn't think I could write a poem, and I did!" M. beams up at me, eyes twinkling under her elegant hijab.

By the time I'm halfway down her page, the hubbub of writers around me has completely faded away. It's just me and her words on this creamy notebook page. "Whoa. Your repetition and parallelism are really powerful! How did you decide to do that?" The day before, she was whining that she couldn't write a poem, and now these beautiful lines have flowed right out of her heart.

As I peer over shoulders and chat with other writers, I'm struck by two extremes. At the beginning of April, when I showed them my SOLSC reflection poem, their astonishment at the idea that a regular person could write a poem was palpable. ("Wait, how long did it take you to write that?!") Now, many of them echo M.'s transformation into proud poets as if they've breathed in our recent weeks of poem study and are now exhaling beautifully crafted lines of imagery, tone, and figurative language. 

On the other hand, some of their tortured, trapped classmates still writhe in their seats, tongue-tied. "I don't know how to do this! I can't write a poem!" Despite all the strategies I've suggested over the past few days, they are paralyzed. ("But Mrs. M, we're ELL students!" one whimpered last week, as if she hadn't just written 13 incredibly well-crafted slices of life in a month.) How can I get their lines to stream out onto the page too?

As H., my first poet who started to play with poetry at the end of March, gushes to me about how he doesn't even want to write stories anymore, just poetry, it hits me. "Hey, would you like to talk to the class about how you think as you write your poems?" Maybe they need to hear from others who have been right there, stuck, unsure, just weeks or days or moments ago. We've purposely moved on to studying former student mentor poems over the past few days, instead of published poems, and I've been working on a new poem in front of them, but H's enthusiasm and M's proud shift have reminded me how much emotion is tied up into poetry. These writers have mostly unlocked their hearts and minds enough to tell their mighty stories this year, but poetry carries a whole new level of trepidation for those who have never seen themselves as writers, let alone poets. 

We've done enough talking this year about pushing ourselves out of our comfort zones that, even though speaking out in a group is still one of his most significant areas of discomfort, H. stutters his way to assent. When I nudge her, M. gulps and agrees too, and so does R., who tried a couple of poems right away in early April after seeing H.'s poem slices.

The next class, instead of another mini-lesson by me, I invite all three of them to share about how they created their poems. Every eye in the meeting area is pinned to the screen. "I started by finding the feeling I wanted to show," H. softly declares. "When I wanted to think of a picture, I closed my eyes so I could really see it..." 

(The ending of one of his March slice poems!)

The only side whispers are of thoughtful admiration. "I tried to feel like I was talking to a special friend," R. reveals. "I wanted to put my honest feelings." She gestures toward her line breaks. "I said the words out loud and tried to stop the lines where I'd slow down or finish a thought..."

(The beginning of one of hers!)

Supportive applause, nods, thoughtfully furrowed brows. "I thought it would be cool to repeat these lines to show how much my mom means to me." Her graceful abaya swishes as she shrugs and grins. "I thought I couldn't write a poem, but I did!" 

(The first 2 stanzas... isn't the repetition awesome?)

Work time goes in waves of louder-than-I'd-like-it-but-they're-really-helping-each-other and so-quiet-the-room-next-door-must-think-we-left. Poem lines are dripping through the classroom like spring raindrops. One by one, line by line, they are coming unfrozen. One by one, line by line, they're discovering that Charles Bukowski was right when he proclaimed that “everybody is a writer, and almost every writer is a poet.”

Love these writers

Tuesdays at Two Writing Teachers!

Flop. I can't help fiddling with the stack of coarse, creamy, cottony paper in my hands. My fingers relish the gravity and richness of the weight and texture. I love the way this paper feels. Flipping through the pages, I feel the pull of colors: the bold orange Classroom Slice of Life Challenge logo and the vivid, swift blue strokes of my signature and my principal's signature. I love the joy of honoring my students with something special. 

"It's time for the 2018 Slice of Life Awards!" All around the meeting area, eager eyes meet mine and bodies lean forward. "I had so much fun this weekend looking at the results of your voting! And just like A. suggested, this year's certificates are signed by our principal, and he was really excited about your writing!"

My mind flits back to the several days last week we spent submitting award nominations and the final voting on Friday. The sweet silence of engaged readers carefully considering their classmates' writing, broken periodically by whispers (and sometimes not-so-whispers) of "I didn't know you wrote about Omar Mokhtar!" or "Psst, read 'My First Pet'!"

Category checklist on the nomination form. We dedicate a couple of class days at the beginning of April just for visiting classmates' posts, leaving comments, and nominating. Each time they want to make a nomination, students submit this quick form with post title, author, as many of these boxes as they want to select, and a short justification for why that post deserves to win an award. (I have my own ideas of which posts should be up for voting too, but they usually nominate almost all of those, plus some I might not have thought of!)

Some of the explanations in their responses. Very thoughtful, right?

On final voting day, excited whispers and focused silence were also broken by occasional shrieks of "Someone put MY post on there!" and "How am I supposed to choose?!"

Part of the final voting form, made by linking the best 3-5 nominations in each category. We spend one day of class on this final voting, where students must pick one response per category. 

Final results for a couple of categories. Google Forms make it so easy! :-)

I hop a little as the certificates strain to jump out of my hands. "There were so many incredible posts that I know many of you had trouble choosing, and some categories came out quite close. There were even a couple ties! Our first category was "Most Entertaining Post, and I know we all had a lot of fun reading M.'s story about getting stuck on the Space Mountain roller coaster!"

M.'s eyes widen and he sits up straight in his seat. He beams as 22 pairs of hands clap thunderously and I hand him the certificate.

"And of course, we were all laughing as we imagined little A. driving his family's car without permission!"

Giggles all around as A.'s mouth hangs open. "I won?!" His fingers brush the smooth certificate. "Thanks for getting the principal to sign them!"

His reluctance to apply writing strategies has frustrated me all year, and this story was one of his only attempts to truly incorporate a variety of techniques we've learned. I'm so glad his classmates recognized it, and I hope this gives him momentum!

"G.'s strong vocabulary and unique descriptions really helped us feeling how traveling can change our lives... We were all astounded by C's bravery and use of contrast to create strong emotions in his post about his dad... Z. constantly pushed himself to try new things, from poetry to embedding videos..." Goosebumps sprout on my skin as we relive this poignant, powerful month of growth and community.

So much to celebrate! (I forgot to take pictures of the real ones, so here are screenshots!)

Smiles, shining eyes, knowing nods, and real, enthusiastic applause.

My heart wants to float out of my body. I love this day. I love the March Challenge. 
I love these writers. 

Just right challenge

It's Day 31 at TWT!

I used to think

it wouldn't be worth it
if I wasn't perfect.

Wasn't that the point?

To write
every
day?

To post 31 slices in 31 days?

To live as a writer
every
day?

To push myself,
to make room for writing,
to jump in over my head,
to tackle a daunting challenge
and win?

But when I wasn't perfect
anymore,
I still grew.

Some writing
is better
than none.

If it pushes you,
it's a challenge.

Other people are not you.
Their measuring stick is not your measuring stick.
If it's truly everything you can do right now,
the best version of you is only compared to you.

I tell my kids to read "just right" books.
I tell them to shoot for attainable goals.
I'm not giving up on running
just because I'll never run a marathon or a 4-minute mile.

If it pushes you,
it's a challenge.

4 days a week.
20 posts in 31 days.

Carving out every possible slice
between teaching, running, reading,
friendship, faith, love,
toddler songs, stickers, swinging, sliding, climbing,
and responding to slices of my students' incredible lives.

Widening my view and narrowing my focus,
sparking ideas and spinning words
preserving precious moments
and exploring churning thoughts.
Grounding myself in the truths I know
and reaching to rise in new ways.

Pushing the balance
without tipping too far.

If it pushes you,
it's a challenge.

4 days a week.
20 posts in 31 days:
my "just-right" challenge
for this year,
for this me,
achieved.

Wrestling with writing

Day 28 of 31 at TWT!

I didn't feel like writing tonight.

Part of the beauty and necessity of writing when you are a teacher of writers is grappling with that feeling and realizing what it means to overcome it. I love writing. I may struggle with other parts of my identity, but I'm undoubtably a writer.

And if I, a writer, sometimes don't feel like writing, how much stronger and more frequent must that feeling be for students who don't see themselves as writers? If I, a writer, must sometimes dig deep, battle the voice that just wants to read or watch tv, and drag myself onto the blank screen to wrestle with writing as work (instead of joyful word play or an inspired flow of ideas), how much deeper must they have to dig? How much harder is their battle? How much more like work does it seem to them?

In my class, we do so much work with reflection and goal-setting. At this point in the year, my students have set goals, imagined outcomes, anticipated obstacles, made plans to overcome them, and reflected on their progress so often that those routines practically run themselves, especially with the help of my squad leaders. (In fact, we could be in danger of losing meaningfulness to monotony, but I hope those ideas become habits they internalize and use throughout their lives.) But that emotional battle of choosing discipline over default, of making yourself do the work even especially when you don't feel like it, of taking the conscious step to stare your obstacles in the face and force yourself to use one of your plans... that's the real key. There's nothing that I could possibly teach them that could be more important than how to chase their dreams with the relentless ferocity required to beat back the voice in each of our heads that tempts us to give up, give in, or just take the easy way out.

Usually, when I don't feel like writing, it's because I'm overly tired or "out of ideas". Tonight, I'm worn out but I have plenty of ideas... I just don't feel like writing about any of them! Squads in my class? I have 3 separate drafts already started about that, but I don't feel like diving into that on Spring Break. Running? I've been writing about that a lot lately. Sweetie? Ditto. Way too much. The hard stories? Nope. Not those. Not ready yet. Maybe not ever. Certainly not on Spring Break. Friendship? Two drafts sitting about that too, but I'm just not feeling the one, and the other is for farther down the road, if ever. 

Increasingly discouraged, I scroll through my list of slicing ideas. Everyday moments, special memories, a post based on a mentor post I've saved? Ehhhhhh.

I could write about not wanting to write... Been there, done that. But it could be fun... But I've done it. More than once! But I could put a different twist on it! And really, it's so good to reflect on that feeling for my kids! Maybe. It IS the biggest thing I'm feeling right now...

I start to go through my blogging routine: open a draft, go to the call for slices, drop the image in, add the tags I know I'm going to use. These familiar motions are like stretches before running. My brain is warming up to the idea of writing. I could focus on the teacher perspective. Ooh, and I could tie it into R-Factor! I could link to those old posts about this feeling...

I dive into my "writing" tag, looking for a couple of old posts I know I wrote a few years ago. My brain snaps awake as I realize there are more than I thought: an inner battle from not being prepared, a reflection on persistence, my two conflicting voices, and writing even when it's tough. And sprinkled in between, so many joy-filled posts celebrating the power of writing and how much I love it. Aw, I forgot about that! I almost get lost down a wormhole of rediscovering pieces of myself that I'd forgotten, and end up just closing the tab with the tag before I end up past bedtime with a half-finished post.

Over an hour later, I realize that I've somehow found my way to the writing zone: adding and revising sections, using the thesaurus, playing with formatting, body tense and eyebrows furrowed as my fingers try to keep up with my flying thoughts. How did I get here? By talking myself into sitting down to write. By reminding myself what I'd gain if I did. By choosing not to listen to the easy way out. By starting to go through the motions that would lead to writing. By doing the work.

I want my students to wrestle and win, too. With writing, with schoolwork, with life. This is why I write, why I teach, and why I open myself up as an example to them.

Real stories, real tears, real writers

Day 21 of 31 at TWT!

"Are we ok over here?" I scurry over to one of the square tables, where two girls are desperately grabbing tissues.

They nod, wipe away tears, and hug each other.

"Something someone wrote?"

"No, she just told me what she might write about her dad!"

Wow. Now we've moved on from crying over published posts to crying over potential posts! This community of writers is incredible! A slideshow in my mind shuffles through all the similar moments over our past few weeks of blogging:

Kneeling beside C. to tell him personally how heartbreakingly beautiful his post about his dad was and how many people had approached me about it to say they couldn't even find the words to comment on it. Him telling me that he'd cried while writing it. Watching him fight tears again at his table as he re-read it and the comments he'd received. (If you read it, don't worry -- he is safe; these memories are from a long time ago and his dad is far away now.)

Spotting a huddle of sobbing girls and going over to find that they were crying about how one had written about how hard it is to live far away from her mom. When her squad leader had read it, written her a kind comment, and personally gone over to tell her that she was there for her, they'd all lost it.

Bursting into tears at my desk on only the second day of the challenge at S.'s poignant post about being a child when Syria's Civil War started. Watching set after set of wet eyes boil over around the room when I shared it with the class as a mentor text. Seeing her put her face in her hands and weep as she read all of the wonderful comments she received on that post and subsequent installments of her story.

Stories of ruined friendships, divorced parents, injuries, fears, mistakes. And yes, joyful stories too: baby siblings, loving families, cherished moments, future dreams.

My students have worked on writing all year, but they have truly become writers this month. Writers discovering their voices, connecting with each other, and making realizations like this one:

"...when I write things down I feel better." <3

There is power in the stories, and there is power in the telling of the stories.

"Everything is held together with stories. That is all that is holding us together, stories and compassion." -- Barry Lopez

Examples

Day 15 of 31 at TWT!

"Mrs. M, I loved your post about your daughter with the stickers!"

"Oh yeah, I read that one too! She's so cute!" D. chimes in. "I remember she was so sweet at the Global Cafe!"

"Yeah, we're pretty much covered in stickers by dinnertime most evenings!" I giggle. I love that my kids are really reading my posts this year! 

I talk about my writing with my students all the time, I write in front of them, and I sometimes use my posts as mentor texts in class, but I've never had this many students independently visit my blog, even though I've linked here on our class blog during past March Challenges as well. This year, as I weave through the room during the time I give my students to leave comments, I've been frequently spying the familiar sunset background of my blog up on at least one or two screens.

Maybe it's that commenting has finally taken hold this year the way I've always wanted it to. Maybe it's that our new squad group format (which I seriously promise, again, to write more about soon!) and refined goal work have intensely strengthened the feeling that we are all learners working together to live our class motto of "being our best selves".

(Last week, after sharing how I hadn't met my weekly reading goal, one of my students remarked, "Wait, teachers have learning goals too?"As I started to wonder where he'd been all the other days and weeks I've modeled talking about my goals, another student jumped in: "Mrs. M always works on what we're working on!" Looking back, while the first student isn't exactly known for his stellar attention, I wonder if all that modeling just hadn't seemed as real until he noticed that I was sharing about NOT reaching a goal.)

Maybe living through my personal struggles this fall right in front my students helped them view me more as someone who works hard to persevere through obstacles, just like them.

Maybe this group of students would have just been particularly invested in the March Challenge anyway. But I'd like to think that some of that other work has made a difference. Regardless, it's really fun to see them reading and responding to my posts as a fellow writer and fellow member of our class community.

This morning, when I logged into our class blog to approve comments, this sweet one was waiting for me on the post where I link to my posts here, in response to yesterday's reflection on writing and running, and identity:

Don't you just love that she's encouraging me and giving me advice? She's one of my squad leaders, and I just chose her for our school's special "Celebration of Excellence" award. See why? She has been a major turning point in our class.

"You are one of my biggest examples in life, therefore I believe if you could do something I could do something as you do!" Her words echo in my head.

This is why I teach. This is why I write. This is why I share my reader-writer-learner self-who-is-working-to-get-better with my students.

Writer! Runner?

Day 13 of 31 at TWT!

Some of you know that I've been trying to be a runner. Or, if I'm using the same logic that Stacey Shubitz taught us years ago about being writers, I suppose I AM a runner. If a writer is a person who writes (as opposed to a "real" published writer), then a runner is a person who runs, right? And I run three times a week. Not particularly fast, and not particularly far, but I run.

I'm not sure why I can so easily call myself a writer but find it so hard to try on the identity of "runner".

Partly, it feels like I should be good at something in order to own that title. I know I'm good at writing. I've gotten feedback throughout my life that I'm good at writing in a variety of situations, so I know other people also believe I'm good at writing. Therefore, I'm a writer.

I'm not particularly good at running, although I'm not overly bad either. (In fact, I've even gotten encouraging feedback that I run like a runner!) But with running, I feel like I need to achieve some sort of objective accomplishment to claim the title of "runner". If I can run an __-minute mile, I'll be a real runner. If I I can run a 5K someday, I'll be a real runner. Right? Yet, I don't feel like I need to publish a book to call myself a writer. I don't tell myself that because I "only" write blog posts, I'm not a writer. I don't believe there's some sort of objective number of posts per week that I have to write in order to be a writer.

I don't do that with any other title I claim. I don't feel like I'm not a reader if I don't read a certain amount of pages every week. No matter what, I'm a marching band girl, even though the most we've participated in the Alumni Band lately is a couple of parades.

Ultimately, I think the difference is that writing has felt like a piece of my heart for so long that it really is an integral part of who I am. I pretty much can't not write. As long as I can remember, I've kept a notepad by my bed for those times when I wake up in the middle of the night with a burning idea that I JUST HAVE TO WRITE, right then. I often decide to write "just a short post" and find myself coming up for air an hour and a half later, shaking myself back into the real world like I've been in some kind of haze. I've always been a writer.

This running thing is new. It doesn't pull at my heart like writing does. I certainly don't wake up in the middle of the night with a sudden urge to go running! Sometimes, I look ahead and think, "Ugh, I have to run again tomorrow." But even as I think that, I'll flex my muscles and feel a slight pulse, like my legs and arms are saying, "Let's go!" I'll feel a little tightness in my muscles or notice them getting stronger and more defined, and I'll stand up a little straighter and walk with a little more pride, wishing I was wearing a sign that said "I'M A RUNNER NOW!" so everyone could see the small differences I feel. I'll start to feel bogged down with the stress of school and life and my thoughts will shift to, "Oh good, I'm running tomorrow!" as I anticipate that glorious clear-headed floating feeling that's an added bonus to just plain running the knots out.

So I suppose it pulls at my heart, but differently. I have to make myself run... but I sometimes have to make myself write, too! That just means it's hard, not that it's not part of who I am. It's a newer part of who I am, but I watch students become readers and writers in my class every year, and I don't discount their new identities. If I feel moved to write poetry about it, it has absolutely taken hold in my heart.

I write. I am a writer. I run. I am a runner.

Rising strong anyway

Day 6 of 31 at TWT!

Last night I went running instead of blogging. On purpose. I did not write, on only the 5th day of the March Challenge. I chose not to write.

That's a big deal for me, the ultimate perfectionist. To make a conscious decision to not be perfect. I was perfect for the first 3 Marches I blogged. Then, when I was pregnant with my daughter, I was decidedly not perfect. I just couldn't be, for a variety of reasons, and that was hard. However, I did write 14 posts and ended up feeling proud of myself anyway, because it was much better than not trying at all.

The next March, when she was 10 months old, I somehow managed to be perfect again! I have no idea how I pulled that off! It seems so impossible that I actually didn't remember doing it until I looked at my archives today to see how many posts I'd written the past few Marches. Did I seriously blog for 31 days in a row with a baby while still teaching full-time? I apparently did, because there they all are! (Clearly, that whole year was such a whirlwind that I have no recollection of that accomplishment though, so...)

Then there was last year. We won't even talk about last year. 9 posts total, and none in March. (I also didn't remember that until I looked back at my archives... how did I not even manage to write a single post all month?! How on earth did I talk to my students about writing if I wasn't doing it myself? I mean, I know it was a rough time, but yikes!)

And here we are, in 2018. Could I have written a post last night and pushed myself to write every single day this March? Yes, but I chose balance instead.

To write last night, I would have had to miss out on:

• reading and responding to incredible student slices and sending them out for our staff to read
• spending quality time with Little Sweetie before dinner ("Mommy, can we read this book together? Mommy, can you play with me? Mommy, can we snuggle on the snuggle couch and watch Daniel Tiger? ")
• running (and therefore feeling like SuperGirl!)
• a glorious bubble bath after running
• texting my best friend to support him through a challenge, as he has for me so many times
• snuggling up to Husband to scroll through the photos of Sweetie that my mom posted while we were at work
• enough sleep (honestly, this still didn't even quite happen!)

Could I have written, and missed some of that? Yes. Would it have been worth it? No way.

One of my colleagues loves to say that being elite is being the best version of you. In a discussion after school today, he reminded a group of us again that if you are seriously doing everything you can to be your best, then you are working to be elite. It's not about outside markers of success or how you compare to other people. It's about doing your work relentlessly, to be incrementally better every day, not just in one part of your life, but in all the parts that matter most.

So I'm not perfect this year, but I am doing my absolute best. And that's actually better than when I was perfect.

Right now, my best is to make time for writing every day that I can do it without sacrificing something else essential. To avoid the trap of perfectionism and roll all of my "one little words" from the past few years together: to LOVE hard and stay STRONG, ANYWAY, and to RISE in all areas of my life.

Finding their voices

Day 4 of 31 at TWT! 

"So we can write about anything?" Gears are obviously turning in D.'s head as she stares at her blank heart map.

I grin. "Pretty much! Anything about your life or a topic that's important enough to you that it's part of your life!"

"What about a political topic? Like, there are wars some places that nobody cares about, like Venezuela and Palestine?"

I nod, knowing that even though she lived in Jordan for a longer time, Palestine is closest to her heart. "Of course! This is a chance for you to tell those stories and make your voices heard!"

This year, as my students started brainstorming ideas for the Slice of Life Challenge, I shared a few of my favorite quotes about writing, including this one from Neil Gaiman: "Tell your story. Don't try and tell the stories that other people can tell... But as quickly as you can, start telling the stories only you can tell -- because there will always be better writers than you, there will always be smarter writers than you, but you are the only you."

And wow, have they taken that to heart right away! Often, it takes awhile before anyone writes a truly courageous, serious post, and students are usually reluctant to publish publicly instead of just within our class.

Not this year! Not only do these students have stories truly only they can tell, they are not afraid to share them! S. has followed up her first poignant post about life in Syria (you know, the one that had me sobbing at my desk!) with a riveting cliff-hanger that makes me keep refreshing my feed to see if she's written another post yet. (She's actually drafting it as I write this, but I won't peek until she publishes it!) M. shared his family's memories of the dictatorship in Argentina. D. made her love for Palestine come alive in an alluring description of Jerusalem.

Sometimes it takes days or weeks to get some momentum going for this challenge. Some years, it honestly never really seems to take hold deeply at all, or only a few students really run with it. Many years, I'm excited if one or two students post on the weekends. This weekend, with only two school days of the challenge under their belts, 6 different students have written or drafted a total of 11 posts! The rising tide of student comments from earlier in the semester is still going strong, and a variety of colleagues have left heartfelt words of encouragement, too!

More than any other year, these students are finding their voices. And their voices are incredible.

S.'s reply to my comment on her 1st post... this is why I teach!

D.'s comment to S.'s 2nd post about the war in Syria

S.'s comment to M.'s post about the dictatorship in Argentina

Those who are shocked and incredulous about the Parkland students' gun-reform initiative must not have spent much time getting to know teenagers. Teenagers are resilient, hopeful, determined, and all-around amazing, especially once they realize the power of their own voices. I'm proud and honored to work with them every day, and I'm so excited to go to school tomorrow and encourage them to keep sharing their stories!

(If you'd like to leave comments for my students, please do so! Just don't be scared when they seem to disappear -- I just have to approve them!)

Belief and bravery

Day 3 of 31 at TWT!

"Mrs. M, can you come read this?" H. is staring at a draft on his Chromebook.

"Sure, what's up? Is there a certain part you'd like me to look at?"

"Um..." He hesitantly waves his hand across the whole screen. "I just want you to see if it's ok to post..."

"What?! H?!" I grin incredulously. "Why?! I'm sure it's fine! You're an awesome writer!"

"Well, it's just different than most other things I've written, and I don't know... Maybe it's confusing or something..." His voice trails off.

I peek over his shoulder to scan the first few lines, smiling at the flow of his usual strong, creative voice. Imperfect grammar, as is often the case, but not to the point of distraction or interference with meaning. "You're a good writer. Go ahead and publish it!" I nudge his elbow with mine and circulate back to another part of the room.

Later, as we're transitioning to the next activity, I notice that his Chromebook is still open, with that draft still sitting there. "H! You still didn't publish that? Push that button!"

"I, um..."

His squad leader D. leans across the table, smoothing her hijab. "What's going on?"

"H. is having trouble convincing himself to publish his post."

"You're such a good writer!" she exclaims, eyes lighting up. "Before I knew you [we've only been in these squad groups this semester], when Mrs. M would have us leave comments, I'd always look for your posts first! I don't know why, I mean..." She takes a deep breath, as if momentarily realizing that this is not the kind of thing most high schoolers say to each other, but then plunges ahead. "Your writing is really fun to read!"

He shifts in his seat, then reaches toward his Chromebook. "Really?"

"See?!" I grin at him, then turn to D. with an overflowing heart. I can't believe she just said that! I love these kids, and I love what blogging does for our classroom community. "Thank you for those kind words, D. That was really nice of you."

I open my stance to address the whole class. "You guys don't need me to tell you that your writing is ok. Be brave! Put it out there!" But then I fix my eyes back on H. "But sometimes I'm scared to hit that publish button, too! I still have days that I have to sit and stare at the screen for awhile, take some deep breaths, and talk myself into pushing that button! It's a big deal, sharing your words with the world! But it's also really awesome."

Turning point

Day 2 of 31 at TWT!

Oh yay, S. published a post AND she made it public! I scanned her title and hook, excitedly clicking to read the full post. Looks like a good one, too...

"Turning Point! / Life could change in minutes..." I scroll through her warm description of her childhood, relishing the opportunity to know this student more deeply.

Suddenly, I'm crying at my desk. I thought I knew what was coming. I know the things that my students have likely experienced when they come from a place like Syria. But it's one thing to imagine a vague possibility, based on news about faraway strangers, and quite another to read, in her own beautifully crafted words, what "my kid" has been through. "...all of these dream and plans disappeared when I heard this unforgettable sentence in news..." Whole messy tears spurt from my eyes, shoulders shaking, hands on my face. If someone walks by my room right now, they'll think I'm crazy. 

S. lights up our class every day with bright eyes, an always-ready smile, and such a voracious determination that I chose her to be one of my squad leaders after knowing her for only a few weeks. Taking that role to heart, she has consistently gone out of her way to help her group members, encourage them with caring comments, and let me know when she is concerned about someone, while still relentlessly challenging herself. For Valentine's Day, she had her squad surprise me with a card they had decorated by writing "I love you" in their languages.

S.'s Valentine's Day surprise.. she even sneaked it onto my desk in the middle of class! (If you're curious, the languages are Spanish, Arabic, Amazigh (Berber), and Hindi!)

This morning, her words had me wiping my eyes with hands that bear her Henna handiwork from Wednesday's Global Cafe.

Before even finishing my comment to her, I opened our staff Schoology group for sharing positive stories and began typing: "Everybody. Read this post!!!" I pasted in the link, posted, and returned to my half-written comment. "S, I'm literally crying at my desk right now..."

With that, my sluggish Friday morning was transformed into a day of pride. Whenever I got a chance, I eagerly refreshed our comment approval feed, hoping another staff member had left a comment. And again and again, they had. Compassionate, reflective, meaningful comments poured in, both from staff members who knew her and those who didn't:

"...You have a powerful voice and message..."
"... I am aware of the strife in Syria but your story makes it personal..."
"... Never forget the little girl in you... she is your heart and should be shared with the world every day..."
"Wow! This was an incredibly moving piece..."
"...You sound like a young lady of incredible courage, strength, and passion..."
"... I am now a better person because of what you shared!..."

Because of them, I got to start our blogging time in class by showcasing the connections and emotions that were brought about by S.'s powerful writing and courage in publishing her story publicly. I couldn't have designed a better "turning point" to get momentum going for the rest of March!

To top it all off, K. called me over near the end of class. "Mrs. M? I, um, just don't know how to comment on S.'s post! I mean..." Tears spilled over her eyelashes and down her face as she hurriedly tried to brush them away. "...I'm crying! I don't know what to say! It's so awful... I'm so sorry! I mean, it's not my fault, but I'm so sorry!"

"Say that, K. Tell her what she made you feel. Say exactly that."


(If you'd like to leave her a comment, don't worry when it seems to disappear -- it just has to be approved by me!)