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!)

Salamander stories

Day 30 of 31 at TWT!

"... and we got to TOUCH a salamander! We had to put water on one finger with a magic spray bottle!" Rainbow Girl gestures wildly, eyes bright and wide, in full story-telling mode. Her declarative tone of voice almost matches the grand reading voice she always uses when reciting books she's memorized, but with slightly more pep to it. "My teacher... the worker... the teacher..." she pauses, not quite sure how to describe the person leading the MetroPark program, then dives back in at full speed. "... told me they don't have teeth, so they can't hurt us!" She leans forward with a big grin, crinkling her eyes and curling her shoulders inward. 

"Wow! That sounds really special!" I lean across the corner of the kitchen table and kiss her on the cheek. "What did it feel like?"

"Slimy!" She sits bolt upright in her chair. 

touching the salamander! (picture from our nanny)

"And what did you learn about salamanders?"

"Hmmm," she taps her pointer finger on her chin repeatedly in the exaggerated "thinking" gesture that she's developed over the past few months. We're not sure where it came from, but it's hysterical. "They have bones!" she announces with rather more excitement than I'd expect from that fact. "Like us!!!"

"Ohh," Husband, Sis, and I grin at each other across our plates of spaghetti. "Cool!"

"AND we MADE a salamander!" 

Sis grabs the paper pile in front of her. "Ooh, is this it? Hi, Sally!"

"NOOOO!" Rainbow Girl screeches. "HIS NAME IS CUTEY!!!" She snatches the paper and cradles them in her arms. 

"He's a little shy," she coos. She pats the paper salamander and starts sliding him inside the 3D paper log that was under him. "He's going to bed!" she informs us, slipping him almost all the way into the log before dipping her head down to gently kiss his green paper head. 

sliding Cutey into his log

"Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to slee-ee-ee-ee-eeeeep," she softly croons to the tune of Brahm's lullaby. "Go to sleep, close your eyes, go to slee-ee-ee-ee-eeeeep!" She tenderly pats the paper log.

singing him to sleep! <3

Abruptly, she announces, "You can touch him, but you have to get your finger wet. Here's some Magic Spray!" She brings his log to the couch and directs each of us, pumping her tiny finger to squirt us with an imaginary spray bottle. "One finger!" She slides him partway out of the log, tapping him with her dainty finger to show us how. 

my turn!

A few minutes later, it's time for bed. Cutey and his log have to come up and participate in the whole bedtime routine, of course. She and Sis brush their teeth with "sala-paste", and then Cutey gets his own turns reading pages from Llama Llama, Red Pajama in her toddler bed. She makes him crawl out of the log to read his pages, then tucks him back in when he's finished.

"Can he stay with me???" she pleads, blue eyes large, when she's had her bedtime sips of water.

"You might smush and wrinkle him if he slept with you," I contend, "but he could sleep beside your bed, with giant Minnie Mouse!" 

She carefully chooses a place for him on the floor, but then decides that he needs to fly and rock with us. This is my first time rocking with a paper friend, but after rocking, she finally does settle him back in the spot she chose beside her bed, leaning down with one arm to pat him like she often does with Minnie. 

"Meemaw and Granddaddy will be SO SURPRISED to see a PAPER SALAMANDER tomorrow!" she proclaims, wiggling with excitement.

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.

Woven together

Day 28 of 31 at TWT!

"How did I do last night?" Rainbow Girl, nestled in my arms, looks up at me expectantly. 

"I was just going to tell you how great you did!" I make sure my voice is extra enthusiastic. "You talked for just a little bit, and then you went right to sleep!" (Lately, she's been talking and playing in her bed for over an hour after we put her down, and we've been trying to get it back down to a more reasonable amount of time.) I gently lay her in her toddler bed and pull up her covers around her. Leaning closer, I loud-whisper, "I think your new Mama-love bracelet helped!"

She nods vigorously, pulling her wrist up to her face and wrapping her other arm around it. "It kissed me! The Mama-love bracelet kissed me in the night! And hugggggged me!" Her big eyes crinkle in the duskiness. "And I kissed and hugged it!" She smushes her wrist against her cheek and squeezes it with her other arm. 

Her eyes fly open wide and she half-sits up. "Can I kiss yourrrrs?"

"Of course! I would love that, Sweetie Pie!" I pat her head.

Moonlight glints off the tiny bronze heart bead as I extend my wrist towards her face, and I remember how she'd pointed out the shine yesterday afternoon when I surprised her and Sis with these matching bracelets. ("The heart is GOLD! It will SHINE in the dark!") Her tiny hands grasp my arm and tug it against her as she sweetly smooches my bracelet over and over. 

"Mama love!" she sighs, and I slowly back my way out of her room after one last huggle, waving the "I love you" hand sign and blowing kisses like every night.

As I close her door, I glance at the pink strands on my wrist, just as I did often throughout school today. I picture the way she squealed and kissed her bracelet as soon as I pulled them out of the bag after school yesterday, the way she keeps announcing, "It's waterproof! Coo-wohl, right?" every time she washed her hands, and the way she carefully pulled up her sleeve just enough for the bracelet to peek out at bedtime. I remember her big sister happily declaring, "These bracelets are perfect, Mommy!" after school today. 

I bought them so the girls would feel connected to me and each other through the last couple of months of school after spring break, but I'm sure feeling the magic in mine too. 

Hearts sometimes apart

but always connected still,

 woven together.

<3 <3 <3

Constructing a dance with language

Day 27 of 31 at TWT!

"I'm a dancer! Will you be my audient?" Rainbow Girl's sweet little voice pipes up cheerfully to my husband as she hop-prances around the room. 

Did she say "audient"? I grin and lean closer. Husband starts explaining that he needs to get to work. 

She tip-toe bounces over to me. "Mommy! Will YOU be an audient?" 

She did! She said "audient!" And she even said "an" before it. The language nerd in me is fascinated. At 4, she can read letters and is starting to try to sound out simple words, but of course she's never read the word "audience", only heard it. She must imagine it as "audients", and knowing that an audience is a group of lots of people, she must've have concluded that 1 person watching someone do something is an "audient"! 

I imagine more Lego-like building blocks just like the prefixes I wrote about yesterday: "Audients" = many - snap - "audient" = 1! A creative little builder with words, just like with her blocks and Magna-Tiles. Wow. That is some truly brilliant language construction.

In front of me, she begins to twirl, leap, and kick, mixing imitations of her big sister's Irish dance moves with her own dainty whirls and swoops. And I, the audient, lean forward, rapt, trying to freeze this moment as she dances her way into the sweet girl she's becoming, one creatively constructed word at a time.

Wouldn't you like to be an "audient" for this moment? <3

Prefix power

Day 26 of 31 at TWT!

What's today's date, anyway?! 

I check my watch, recalling how many times I've asked myself the same question. 

Just like those other moments throughout the week, I feel a slight twinge of emotion when I remember that if I'd chosen to keep writing every day, I'd certainly know what the date was, and I'd be feeling that unique, lung-and-heart-filling exhilaration-replacing-exhaustion pride of a runner pounding into the last lap or rounding the last corner. 

I can't quite find the right word for whatever emotion it is that has come to me in these twinges. 

It's not guilt or regret; I've felt completely at peace throughout spring break with my choice to take a break from writing during this break from school. Even though I love to write, my brain and heart were nudging me to disconnect during spring break, and I'm filled with a deep sense of calm about my decision to not touch my laptop for the past 8 days.

It's not disappointment or defeat; I've completed the full challenge so many years now that I don't feel I have anything to prove to myself, especially because this break was a choice, not a matter of missing days because I couldn't write. 

It's not even quite a feeling of missing out; the timing of the break was perfect because I built up such great momentum for the first 17 days, and I know I can dip right back in to finish with a good stretch of 6 more in a row that will allow me to feel that rhythm of daily writing, commenting, and connecting. I even kept thinking like a writer in my 8 days "away", noticing potential slices and thinking about how I'd capture certain details, purposefully taking the kinds of photos I'd include in a slice.

It's more of a sense of disconnection, which, despite its many negative connotations, is not an entirely negative word. A little twinge of disconnection each time I realized I didn't know the date, knowing this community was still going, still writing, still commenting and connecting, without me. A much milder jolt of the surreal disconnection I felt when we'd visit Rainbow Girl in the NICU and time would just stop for us, although we knew the world was still going on outside. (That's a whole other post - or series of posts - on its own!) 

Though I didn't have that word in mind specifically, I suppose disconnection is really what I was going for when I decided last Saturday to just not write for the duration of my spring break: a real break. As much as I love to write, thinking about opening my laptop felt like a slippery slope to thinking about school, and as much as I love teaching, it felt right to disconnect from school during this break. No laptop, no writing, no reading school books or blogs or articles. No Girl Scout work either. Just a happier version of our NICU bubble: special family fun time for nine whole days. (Rainbow Girl, who is just starting to understand time, finally understood last week that spring break was going to be nine days of having me and Sis at home, and kept track of which day we were on throughout the break!)

This break feels like a demonstration of the power of prefixes: it's so easy to add and remove these small word parts to completely change the meaning. And having participated in the SOLSC for so many years, I feel so comfortable in the power of this experience and this community that it really felt that easy to customize this year's experience: to add, remove, and change a few letters around the central element of this challenge: connection. 

CONNECT with my writing life and friends new and old for 17 days in a row.

DISconnect for 8 days to connect with my family and the heart of my self, to rest, and to recharge.

RE-connect now, on the eve of returning to school, for 6 more days of writing and community. 

Like a row of Legos, Magna-tiles, or snapping blocks: click, connect, snap apart, rebuild. 

It fits just right.

Recuerdos verdes

We write in our other languages on Fridays! 

Day 17 of 31 at TWT!

"Hoy tienes recuerdos..." Estoy emocionada para hacer clic. Me encanta la herramienta "Recuerdos" y el hecho que varias aplicaciones en mi móvil (¿Uds. han notado que yo estudiaba en España? A mis estudiantes hispanohablantes siempre les parece raro mi uso de móvil, jeje.) me presentan fotos adorables del pasado cada día. Cada día, empiezo o termino el día viendo las fotos seleccionadas como recuerdos en las aplicaciones de Fotos y AmazonPhotos. Con frecuencia, comparto unas fotos en Facebook sólo porque quiero verlas como recuerdo en los años que vienen. Cuando no se me olvide, guardo tres fotos cada día en la aplicación HappyFeed para verlas más tarde también, especialmente porque tengo un widget con aleatorio de ellas de forma grande en la pantalla de inicio. 

Como día festivo, tengo muchísimos recuerdos para ver hoy. Me sonrío mientras deslizo mi dedo hacia arriba:

Hace 12 años: Vestidas de rojo, mi mejor amiga de la universidad (quien se convirtió en mi "hermana pequeña") y yo desayunamos con panqueques con jarabe verde con mi familia antes del desfile de San Patricio de mi cuidad, en una tradición de muchos años. 

Hace 11 años: Mi esposo y yo, con camisas verdes debajo de nuestras camisas rojas de Ohio State, nos sonreímos en Pittsburgh con una cancha de baloncesto al fondo. Antes, habíamos tocado nuestros instrumentos en un bar lleno de aficionados Buckeyes, como parte de un grupo de exalumnos de la banda de marcha. Recuerdo ese día como la primera (y única, hasta ahora) vez que escribí mi blog post un día antes y lo programé para publicar en el día correcto, para que sólo tenía que pegar el enlace en TwoWritingTeachers en ese día tan ocupado. 

Hace 8 años: He escrito una noticia que aprobé la prueba de tolerancia a la glucosa de tres horas, en mi embarazo con Sweetie, después de pasar todo el día antes enferma.

Hace 5 años: Cenamos con Sweetie en un restaurante nuevo (que ahora no existe) con ropa verde, leche verde, y un espectáculo de danza irlandesa, después de una mañana típica de jarabe verde y el desfile. 

Hace 4 años: Ahora somos cuatro en casa, y nuestra bebé del arco iris descansa en mis brazos mientras todos, vestidos de verde, intentamos atrapar copos de nieve con las lenguas, cocinamos un postre verde, y descasamos juntos en casa. 

Hace 3 años: Escribo que tuve éxito en el primer día cuidando a las hijas durante el día y preparando lecciones en casa para mis estudiantes hasta las diez de la noche (jaja, esa hora resultó ser temprano por esos meses) al principio de la pandemia. Ah, ¡qué optimista era! No sabía que no volvería a ver a esos estudiantes nunca, ni trabajar en esa escuela jamás. No sabía que tres años después, todavía estaríamos intentando esquivar ese virus maldito.

Hace 2 años: Durante nuestro año en casa, Sweetie se sonríe mientras Rainbow Girl llora porque no quería posar para una foto. Pero consigo unas fotos adorables después cuando se abrazan jugando al aire libre durante un paseo en bici, y Sweetie captura su primer duende irlandés en la primera trampa que construyó. También habíamos visitado el zoológico para la primera vez desde el inicio de la pandemia, una visita tan especial que escribí varias entradas sobre la alegría y la emoción de Rainbow Girl, la niña que creció con la pandemia. 

El año pasado: Llevando una mascarilla de unicornios y el uniforme de su escuela de danza irlandesa, Sweetie baila en dos espectáculos para los eventos de San Patricio de nuestra ciudad. Rainbow Girl la imita, intentando bailar también mientras miramos a Sweetie y sus compañeros. Sweetie, la mejor hermana mayor del mundo, lanza un señal de mano especial hacia Rainbow Girl mientras baila. Las chicas atrapan un duende adicional. 

Tantos recuerdos, tantos trozos de mi vida guardados en fotos y palabras. 

Hoy, las niñas han capturado los duendes irlandeses nuevos con sus trampas mejoradas. 

Imagínense qué aparecerá en nuestros recuerdos en los años que vienen.

How to believe

 

Day 16 of 31 at TWT!

The room is spinning.

"Hold my hand and fly..."

Well, I'm spinning, in the room, which means that the room will soon start spinning too. A "lights-off party" where we play the girls' favorite songs on our bluetooth speaker in the dark, sometimes with light-up wands or our mini-dance cube, has become an almost-nightly request in our house in recent weeks.

"I will be alright if you stay by my side..."

Rainbow Girl's comfortable weight hangs in my arms as dusky shadows stretch across the gray carpet. Gently, I sweep her up and down a little, shuffling and spinning slowwwwwly since her belly is full of Shamrock Shake. Her big blue eyes gaze up into mine, and her face brightens with an adoring just-for-me smile. If I could freeze time, this might be a moment I'd pick. Instead, I breathe it in, soaking up every sweet detail of the love curled in my arms. 

"...because you showed me / how to believe..." I'm struck by the magic of dancing with her to this song from a Tinkerbell movie on the night before St. Patrick's Day, when both girls firmly believe not only that Tinkerbell and her fairy friends are real, but that leprechauns are going to frolic around our house tonight while we all sleep. 

Plastic gold coins are strewn through the house to attract the leprechauns. Sweetie spent the last several minutes explaining her elaborate system for "distracting" them as long as possible with hard-to-find coins, in order to get them to stay at our house until daylight strikes, trapping them in one of her ornate, never-quite-finished leprechaun traps. 

If I were a leprechaun, I'd come to stay, wouldn't you? She even put activities inside!

I smile down at Rainbow Girl in my arms and Sweetie across the room as we twirl and glide in the almost-darkness, and I can almost see the magic they see: a world filled with flitting fairies and sneaky leprechauns, where a glittering unicorn just might be hiding in the nearby woods. Where Santa and the Easter Bunny know just what they've been wishing for, and snowmen come to life to play at night.

They see a world full of magic. I know it's a world filled with love, and I'm so grateful they've taught me how to believe again.  

"Spring and summer / love and laughter / we'll live happily ever after..."

You don't know?!

Day 15 of 31 at TWT!

"Do you know 'zelenka'?" My Ukrainian student blinks his blue eyes in his characteristic deadpan, almost-ornery way. His casually inquiring tone doesn't give me any clues about what he's asking. I work with him 1-on-1 for a period each day (and then another period where other students also join us), which gives our time together an unusually laid-back atmosphere, with more room than usual for random chitchat. From all our time together, I can guess that he wants to know if I'm familiar with either a video game or something Ukrainian, and this word sounds pretty Russian.

"Ummm... I know zeloni!" I grin sideways at him, remembering my attempts to learn colors in Russian while playing Uno with the Russian speakers at my morning school. "Is it something green?" 

"Not zeloni!" He grins back. "Zelenka!"

"Um, no..." I shrug. 

He pulls his hand up from under the table to show me the finger he scraped a couple days ago when he hit his hand against a table at home while playing VR (a story that made both of us cackle when he told me, despite the injury). 

It's a good thing I'm wearing a mask, because I can't keep my mouth from dropping open as wide as it can go. All the way down his hurt finger, EVERY. BIT. OF. OPEN. WOUND. IS. GREEN.

BRIGHT. GREEN.

SO, SO, SO GREEN.

GREEN, GREEN, GREEN, GREEN, GREEN.

My teacher-mom brain freaks out. Did he COLOR his OPEN WOUNDS with MARKER?!?!?! A 6th grader should know better than that!!! It's going to get all infected!!!!

"Y!!!!!! WHAT DID YOU...??????" I screech, leaning forward and slapping my hands against the kidney table. 

Those bright blue eyes fly open wide. His eyebrows arch and his blond hair flops as he sits up straight in an astonishment that matches my own. "You don't know Zelenka?!?!"

Our mutual astonishment hangs in the air for a moment. 

"It's medicine!" he proclaims, then repeats, his voice still rising with surprise, "You don't know?"

I lean forward to look at his finger more closely, and realize that, shockingly bright green color aside, whatever it is has stained his skin with a consistency similar to iodine. I vaguely think I remember that people put iodine on wounds, sometimes, maybe. "Nnnoo," I sputter. "I don't know this medicine!"

"It's help..." he pauses, then reaches for his Chromebook, pushes the dictation button on Google Translate, and rattles off an adept phrase in Russian. Google Translate spits out "when a wound is festering". 

"So when you are hurt, you put this green medicine on, and it helps your skin heal?" I rub my own finger where his is scraped up. My brain still feels like it wants to explode at the sight of such a brilliant green color on his injured finger. I smile. "I was right though, right? Zelenka, zeloni; it's green!" I'm very proud that I actually guess the meaning of a Russian word with one of the approximately 10 Russian words I've managed to learn this year.

"Yes! But... you don't know?!" He's incredulous that I've apparently been deprived of this medicine my entire life. 

"No!" I lean in. Is this shockingly green medicine truly that commonplace in Ukraine? Does it really work? I'm dying to know more. "How do you put it on? Does it squeeze from a tube or drip from a bottle?" I try to act out those actions. The way his skin is stained really reminds me of iodine, so I predict it comes from a bottle with a dropper, and I'm hoping he'll Google the package so my stunned brain can verify that this is, for real, an actual medicine. 

"It's bottle." He bows his head slightly to say "zelenka" into the Chromebook, copies the Russian text (he likes that way better than trying to use the Russian keyboard), and pastes the word into Google. The screen fills with images of little green bottles reminiscent of iodine bottles, just like I'd predicted.

He glances sideways at me, then repeats, "You don't know?" as if, when I saw the bottle, surely I'd recognize it. 

"No, I don't know this!" I giggle. "Thank you for teaching me!" 

He throws his head back in an uncharacteristically wide-mouthed laugh. 

We move on to practicing narrative elements with a picture book, but my mind flashes back to about a week ago, when he'd asked if I knew a different Russian word, Luntik, which turned out to be a beloved Russian children's tv show. Just like with zelenka, he'd Googled the name, found pictures of the main character (a very adorable pinkish creature), and been absolutely blown away that I'd never heard of it. 

When I get home, I tell Husband about that shockingly green substance, Google "zelenka medicine", and learn that it is truly a common remedy in that part of the world. 

One of my favorite things about teaching ELs is how much I learn from them about the world, and one of the most profound experiences of interacting with someone from another culture are moments like this, when we both realize that something we absolutely held as "normal" is not as universal as we'd thought: that for each of us, our everyday, regular "slices of life" are so much more unique than we realize.

I remember my host mom in Spain cooking EVERYthing (including, to my repeated dismay, our breakfast toast) in olive oil, and trying to tell me that peanut butter was unhealthy (after my roommate and I scoured our supermarket up and down, past rows of Nutella, before finally finding 1 small jar of peanut butter on the Mexican / international shelf). I remember a girl on our Universidad Complutense de Madrid intramural volleyball team (cheer: "¡Fiesta! ¡Sangria! ¡Historia y Geografía!") asking if cheerleaders were really real. 

It's easy to think about the BIG things that are different from country to country or region to region. But what about all those little moments you grew up internalizing as "normal"? Your typical snack. Your favorite childhood tv show. What your mom puts on your boo-boos. How your mom makes toast. 

Just imagine all the things you. don't. know. 

Laughing list

Day π of 31 at TWT!

"When you're married to an engineer on Pi Day, this is what happens to the store list!" 

Before I look closely at the picture my mom has texted, I'm already giggling. My dad's grocery store lists are famous in our family for the many dad-jokes (they're called that for a reason, right?!) he writes to himself each week. 

Growing up, I always loved glancing at the battered memo cube note resting as I'd walk by the kitchen counter, just to see what jokes Daddy had left for himself so far. 

Scrawled in his characteristic all-caps engineer handwriting would be well-loved abbreviations, dad-jokes, and misspellings-that-might-be-jokes-or-just-real-engineer-misspellings:

CHZ-ITS

P-ZA

YO! GERT

CLEAN-NECKS

I have always imagined him nose-laughing to himself as he writes them and then again as he walks through the store, crossing items off on top of his towering pile of coupons. 

So it's no surprise when the picture in my mom's text shows "pot pies" in her handwriting, with an "x" through the word "pies", corrected to "π's" in my dad's handwriting. 

Pot π's. Of course. I can just see him, gleefully crossing out my mom's word and triumphantly replacing it with the pi symbol, just to entertain himself (while probably hoping she'd notice). 

Giggling, I instinctively scrutinize the rest of the photo and notice a line in his bold uppercase that reads "P'CHS / P'AIRS / D'STICKS". 

Does he really think "pears" is spelled "pairs?" Or is that part of the joke? I giggle again. Clearly that apostrophe is a joke, and Drumstick ice cream bars have nothing to do with peaches or pears, so he must've only added that on this line to make it funnier! I shake my head and smile. 

I can just see him, crinkling his eyes and emitting those characteristic short sniff-bursts to himself as fellow shoppers wonder what's funny about his shopping list. 

I'm sure an added benefit is that he knows my mom will smile when she's adding items to the list, but if there's one thing that's clear from how much he laughs at his own jokes, my dad is a big believer in making yourself laugh. It's one of the things I love most about him: whether it's a silly store list or the "trash man" song he sings (to the tune of "Batman") while running around the house to take each room's small trash cans out on trash night, he makes life more fun. 

Nobody else would be able to decipher his list if they wanted to help buy groceries, but I'm sure nobody is as happy on a mundane trip to the store either. If you want a little more joy in your life, just consider adding some "CLEAN-NECKS" to your list the next time you're running low on facial tissues!

Stillness and squeals

Day 13 of 31 at TWT!

The world outside is blurry,

grainy,

an almost-fog.

I squint: 

Are the windows smeary?

No! A whirling white whips across the world. 

Flurries fall, dance, and dive. 

A squeal: "Can we play in it?!?!"

Not today.

Just a lacy layer, 

fragile flakes settling gently.

But...

"Can we stick out our tongues?!"

Of course!

We clamber outside, mouths open wide.

Dazzling,

delicate, 

floating flakes 

descend

in a silence so profound it seems to absorb sound. 

The white world is somehow softer, 

slower,

tranquil, 

more gentle.

If your eyes follow a flake, 

the descent

feels

dizzying... yet peaceful.

Both fast and slow against the winter-gray sky.

Tongues are wiggling, ready. 

"I got one!" small voices shriek.

Subtle spots of coldness spread into wet drops.

Giggles break the placid stillness. 

Blue eyes crinkle as they meet mine,

flailing legs and arms squeeze in delight. 

Giggles grow into chortles and cackles, 

joy overpowers serenity.

Surprise magic

Day 12 of 31 at TWT!

Clatter! Bam! Rustle. 

I'm about to groggily tell Rainbow Girl to stop messing with our blinds when she screeches, "SNOW!!!"

"What?" I force my eyes open. She's pulled our honeycomb blinds above her head and her whole body is pressed against the window. 

"CAN WE PLAY IN IT?!" Her voice rises to a squeal.

"I don't know if there's enough to play in..." I remember seeing a chance of snow overnight, but I figured it would just be a few flurries.

"THERE IS! IT'S ALL WHITE!!!" Sweetie scampers over to join her at the window. 

I reluctantly break my cocoon of flannel sheets and raise myself up on an elbow. My view is blurry without my glasses, but the porch roof does appear to be covered in a significant amount of white. I love snow, but I really wanted to sleep in today. "Is the grass covered?" 

"YEAH! It's poking up a little, but it's mostly covered!!!" Sweetie declares triumphantly.

I sit up farther and start to pull myself out of bed. The street is black, but otherwise, the world is dusted in fluffy white powder. This is only our 3rd snow this year, and while the last one stayed for more than a week of building huge snow forts and snowmen, it was way back in early January. "Ok, let's eat breakfast, so we can play!"

"YAY!!!!" The girls peel themselves off the window and dart down the hall. 

By the time we finally get going, get all our layers on, and get outside, the gentle layer of snow is aready melting fast. But it's there! 

We scurry up our small hill and fly down on Sleddy and Sir Sleddy (as our orange and green sleds have been christened this winter, respectively). 

I love when Sis helps her get started on Sleddy!

We scoop up snowballs and lob them at each other. The girls use Sleddy and Sir Sleddy to fortify the swing set for a proper snowball fight.

They fling themselves on the ground and flail their arms to make very wet, rather green snow angels. 

"Who wants to help me make a tiny, melty snowman?" I call. 

They scamper over, and we roll three very globby balls to stick together. 

"He needs arms!" Sweetie squeals, and they race up the hill towards the woods to grab sticks, nearly sliding back down on the slippery, mushy snow. They gently place the sticks in his body, and Sweetie pushes two rocks on his face for eyes. 

"What should we name him?" I ask. 

"Cutey!!!" Rainbow Girl declares. 

"Aw, Cutey is a nice name!"

She trots off to the deck, where the snow is not as melty, and begins patting down a slab. "I'm gonna make him a bed!" She gets slightly upset when she tries to pick up the bed and can't, but I'm able to get my mittens mostly under it, breaking it only a little, and smash it back together. I hand it to her, and she carries it over to him, setting it gently beside him. 

"Ooh, he'll love sleeping in that!" 

"Yeah!" Sweetie declares. "He's magic!" She firmly believes that the book Snowmen at Night (given to us by one of her teachers a few years ago) is non-fiction, and that's fine with us. We're going to keep all the magic alive as long as we can. 

Rainbow Girl showing Cutey his "bed" before putting it down beside him. <3

Next, the girls make up a game where they smush snow-globs onto sticks to create imaginary roasted marshmallows. Rainbow Girl feeds her marshmallows to Sleddy, while Sweetie strives to create a marshmallow so giant that she has to get a second stick to hold it up. 

When we've enjoyed almost all the remaining snow-mush, we get ready to head inside for some hot chocolate and lunch. "Do you want to give Cutey a goodbye pat?" I ask Rainbow Girl. 

She pads over to him and tenderly pats him on the head with a pink mitten, then bends down and kisses the top of his head. 

There will be other mornings to sleep in. It's better to catch this magic while we can.

Dreams down the road

Day 11 of 31 at TWT!

"A hat! Meemaw, look! I see a big hat!" Rainbow Girl has been quietly bundled in her seat, buried in a blanket, but now that the parade is finally approaching us, she's piping up with excited narration. 

"Do you think Daddy could wear that hat?" my mom replies.

"Noooo!!! That's a balloon hat, Meemaw!" she cackles from underneath the Nemo hat that used to belong to her big sister. 

I remember her sister a few years ago in that same hat, pointing out the same sights and sounds with the same cheerful observations. Now, Sis is somewhere up the road, clad in her Irish dance school's parade sweats, dancing down the street with her friends. 

"I hope I get a Cowtail!" Rainbow Girl declares, peering ahead for candy buckets and bags. The parade participants grin and giggle as they toss candy onto her lap: a little mountain of huddled blanket with an adorable head peeking out. 

"Are there gonna be the stilt walkers? Where's the stilt walkers?"

Suddenly, we hear the strains of Irish music and catch glimpses of green sweat jackets. "Look! Sis is coming! Let's look for Sis!"

Dancers bounce and glide back and forth across the street, scissoring this way and that in their "sevens" reel step. I remember seeing Sis learn her sevens back and forth across our living room when her classes were on Zoom, and now she's doing it down the same street where I walked with my Daisy friends and marched with my high school band.

It's almost dizzying to try to find Sweetie's blonde hair and pink mask in the sea of dancers weaving among each other. Finally, I spot her pink mask and blonde hair, eyes crinkled in her biggest smile as her pointed toes cross and hop. 

"Sis!!!! Sis!!!" we all yell, waving wildly.

Her eyes widen, she breaks free of her fellow dancers' hands, and she dashes over to us, blue eyes aglow with joy. She gives Rainbow Girl a big high five, just like she'd declared in the van that she wanted to, then scampers back into formation, blonde hair flying. 

"When I'm dancing in the parade, I'll come give you a high five!" she'd promised Rainbow Girl before we dropped her off at the parade starting area. We'd tried to explain that she might not be able to do that, but she made it happen!

Grabbing her friends' hands again and resuming her sevens, she cranes her neck around to keep gazing back at us, eyes still crinkled in that characteristic smile that I'm so known for. She looks ecstatic.

 The stilt performers come striding by, and we marvel at their coordination. "There they are!" Rainbow Girl squeals. Sis meets us back at our seats, and the last marching band plays "Hang on Sloopy," a song they both love. Rainbow Girl screeches with delight.

"I'm probably going to end up being in more parades than you, Mommy!" Sis declares afterwards, as Rainbow Girl clutches her little fist around the Cowtail candy she did indeed get. 

"That's true!" I smile, and whisper to Husband to swing by McDonald's like my parents always did for me. All those years of marching band in high school and college, but she's already performing at 7 years old! Aside from that year our Girl Scout troop walked, I was just watching parades at this age!

"Who wants Shamrock Shakes after the parade?" I turn to the back seat. 

"MEEEEE!" They both yell in chorus. "SHAMROCK SHAKES!" 

It'll be so much fun to see what dreams keep coming true down this road.

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. 

One of those days

Day 9 of 31 at TWT!

Did you ever have one of those days that just unfolds like a 47-car pile-up? When everything that could possibly go wrong (and even some things you thought couldn't go wrong!) absolutely does? Your very own Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day, just like Alexander's?

That's what today felt like. (Although, now that I've caught my breath, I must admit there will still plenty of good moments sprinkled in... they just got overpowered, like small oases hidden in a vast desert.)

It was just one thing after another. By dinnertime, I felt like a small leaf that had been battered down the pavement by gusts of wind. 

But as I rocked Rainbow Girl in her room, singing our special song, all those bumps faded away. As always, I kissed her hair and patted her back. Suddenly, her little hand started sliding across my arm.

 "Look, Mommy!" she whispered, looking up to gaze into my eyes. "I'm patting you!"

"Thank you, Sweetie Pie!" I whispered back, the last bits of tension flowing away. 

"I love love love love love you!" she cooed. "You're the very best Mommy!"

"I try so hard, Sweetie Pie!" I sighed. "Do you know how much I love you?"

She grinned expectantly. 

"Lots and lots and lots and lots and lots!" I nuzzled her shoulder and tickled her face with my nose as I often do at bedtime, eliciting delighted squeals. 

"I love YOU lots an' lots an' lots an' lots an' lots!" she nuzzled my nose and buried her face in my shoulder right back, still giggling. 

And just like that, it's one of those days to be grateful for: an Excellent, Wonderful, So-Good, Very Nice Day. 

When I look at this

Day 8 of 31 at TWT!

I'm standing in my doorway overlooking the sea of 8th graders at class change, feeling like a piece of coral buffeted by strong currents and (very) large fish (with very large backpacks!), when I feel the gentle buzz on my wrist. There's still a couple minutes before class starts, so I pull my arm up and sneak a peek: it's a text from our nanny with a picture. 

Quickly, I tap and scroll down, glad that my new watch lets me take a quick look without pulling out my phone. It's a piece of construction paper covered in colored dots, with a message below: "Rainbow Girl said 'when I look at this, I see my mommy because I love her!'"

My heart feels as if it's flying up out of my chest, through the ceiling, out of my school, and down the street to our house just across the neighborhood to give my sweet Mama's girl a hug. 

My students walk in, and I greet them by name. We read together, play a speaking game together, and write together. We laugh together, and I really enjoy my time with them. One does his best work of probably the entire school year, and I end the day by telling him over and over how proud I am of him.

But when the bell rings, I can't wait to get home to see my sweetie pie who loves me so much that she saw me in a craft of colored dots she made. There's a new text from the nanny: "She made special love cards for everyone in her family! <3" 

She's asleep when Sis and I get home, but in just a few minutes, the door to her room slowly creaks open. She timidly peeks out, and her eyes crinkle into her brightest smile when she sees me. "Mama!" she coos down, peering through the banister of the great room "bridge". 

"Mia said you were thinking of Mama today when you looked at your craft!" 

She nods silently but sweetly, still a little groggy, a long braid sliding up and down her shoulder. 

"I was thinking of you too!" I blow a kiss upstairs as I wash my hands. "And she said you made some love cards for everyone in our family?"

"Yeah!!!" Her excitement gets her skipping and yelling. "For you! And there's one for you, Sissy!" She points enthusiastically down at her big sister. "And Daddy! And grandparents too!" She's frolicking in the upstairs hallway now, bouncing as I scurry up the stairs. 

"I can't wait to see them!" I scoop her up and give her a kiss. Her tiny arms wrap around me and she snuggles her little head into my shoulder as I carry her back downstairs. 

At the bottom, she wriggles down my hip and scampers over to the kitchen table, grabbing a pile of light blue papers. "I think I remember which one is yours!" 

So much love! <3

She digs through the pile. "Happy Love Day!" she declares as she hands mine to me, and I wonder if they watched that episode of Daniel Tiger or read the book today.

"And LOOK! Sissy! This is YOURS!" 

It's upside down, but you can see where she wrote the letters of her name (top left)!

She waves another paper at her big sis, who pulls her into a hug, and croons, "You wrote your name!!! I love it! Thank you, Sweetie Pie!"

Next, she adds a drawing of "our family" to my page, declaring first that the dots will be our sidewalk, then deciding instead that we're resting on cloud pillows. I can't wait to take it to school and hang it in my classroom, knowing that "when I look at this, I['ll] see [her]. Because I love her." <3

My finished "love card"! <3 Don't you love the way she draws people with all their little appendages sticking out??? 

What sisters make

Day 7 of 31 at TWT!

As soon as the narrow back hallway from my school to Sweetie's school opens up into the wide brightness of her cafeteria, I spot her blonde hair and pink mask bouncing towards me. I'm excited to talk to her about the author visit they had today, but then I notice something multicolored in her hand. 

"It's my puffmobile!" she declares. "We built them today, but I haven't tested it out yet! My friend's went really far though!" 

I'm about to ask what a puffmobile even is when I notice her little sister's name on it. And a rainbow. And, as I look more closely, a bunny (her sister's favorite animal). "You decorated it for Rainbow Girl?!"

"It's a sisters' puffmobile!" she announces proudly. "One side is for her and one side is for me! Her side has a rainbow and a bunny, and my side has a sunshine and a unicorn! And I wrote 'sisters are the best of friends' on it!"

So much love, at school, when her sister wasn't even with her! Such careful detail to show what's special about each of them! My heart is soaring. I imagine her hunched over her desk, surrounded by her classmates and the hubbub of school, working so hard to think about her little sister's favorite things and to make this special representation of their love for each other, completely unprompted. "I love it, Sweetie! She'll love it so much! I can't wait for her to see it when you get home!"

Sisters really do make the best of friends, just like the words on a shirt I bought her when she became a big sister. I love that's she's internalized that phrase, and that they both live it every day. 

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!