Going to Afghanistan

Day 29 of 31 at TWT! 

"I wanna go to Afghanistan again sometime!" Rainbow Girl bounces in her booster seat. 

It takes me a second. Has she heard us talking about Afghanistan and figured out that it's a place? Then it hits me. "Ohhh! You want to go visit the /family/ from Afghanistan again sometime?!"

"YEAH! And RUN AROUND!" She leans toward me, lifts her chin and scrunches her face into her biggest smile.

I grin, remembering watching her and Sweetie frolic with the Afghan kids in their apartment when we first visited over a month ago. In their typical fashion, Sweetie put her hand over her heart and said "Salam" as I'd taught her, then immediately started trying to engage her 6 year old counterpart in a mutually unintelligible conversation about the pictures they'd drawn for each other, while Rainbow Girl initially wanted to stay in my lap. (It didn't help that her 3 year old counterpart kept toddling into the other room and shyly peering around the corner, even more uncertain of new things and people than Rainbow sometimes is!) Knowing how much Rainbow loves helping Husband cook, I'd tried to get her interested in watching the mom craft handmade bolani in the kitchen. We peeked as she formed soft dough balls and tossed them like pizza dough, then folded a potato filling into them.

One of the teens grabbed a couple of toys from the closet for the little ones and Rainbow scrambled off my lap. Soon, there was so much running and giggling it seemed like there were 10 young kids instead of 5, delighting in the universal language of play, dancing, and laughter even though they couldn't say any words each other might understand. Uncharacteristically, Rainbow even let the oldest teen girl pick her up and hug her! Between a smattering of English words, gestures, photos on our phones, and Google Translate, the teens and adults all talked about how cute they were, which kids gravitate towards mom or dad, and what we like to do.

By the time we were saying "tascha kor" ('thank you') and miming that the girls needed to get to sleep, both Rainbow and Sweetie were already asking when we could play with them again. 

I'll never forget the way their 6 year old squealed when she caught sight of the playground equipment the first time we took them to a park. "YAY!!!!" she screeched from my backseat, and they all ran around again, climbing and sliding together, both 6 year olds ending up with arms around each other on the walk back to the cars. (The family does not have a car yet, so as registered refugee volunteers, a colleague and I drove everyone from their family who wanted to go to the park, while Husband drove our girls to meet us there.)

Sweetie playing with the Afghan girl who's her age

When I told Sweetie that the kids were finally able to enroll in school after finishing all their medical checks, she noted, "But won't that be so hard for them? They don't know English!" She's met some of my students before when I've taken her to school events, but she'd never really spent quality time interacting with newcomer kids until we met this Afghan family.

"That's why I teach English to students who speak other languages!" I smiled proudly. "They'll have a teacher like me to help them! In fact, some of my friends are their teachers!"

Just a few months ago, I was reading about refugees and wondering what I could do to help (especially now that I teach in a part of our district that doesn't really receive them). Now, thanks the opportunity to be part of the district's welcome team in conjunction with our local refugee resettlement agency, my family has gained a whole family of new friends. It's an experience I highly recommend! 

Nuestro arco iris

(I write in Spanish on Fridays. If you don't read Spanish, feel free to experience the magic (and imperfection) of machine translation by pasting this post's url into Google Translate! And if you can write in a language other than English, join me next Friday!)

Write in another language on Fridays!

Day 25 of 31 at TWT!

- ¡Está lloviendo! - con las piernas y los brazos rígidos, mi hija de tres años señala con el dedito. 

¿Lloviendo? Veo las gotas en la madera afuera a la vez que noto la luz anaranjada de unas rayas del sol. Salto de la mesa de inmediato y corro hacia la ventana. Sí, allí está. -¡Un arco iris! - grito, corriendo de vuelta a la mesa para sacarle a mi hijita de su silla mientras su hermana cruza conmigo, corriendo hacia la ventana.

Llevo a mi hijita a la puerta de vidrio y asomamos a ver el arco pintado en el cielo. -Wow- suspira ella. Nos quedamos un rato observando los colores suspendidos en el cielo como si un niño los hubiera dibujado en las nubes. Detrás de nosotras, mi esposo saca unas fotos de nuestra Hijita Arcoiris mirando al arco iris.

anoche <3

La abrazo y siento el peso de su cuerpito en la cadera. Inclino la cabeza hacia la suya y la beso. Cierro los ojos por un instante. Mi arco iris. 

Su hermana mayor la toma de la mano. Mi esposo me mira fijo. Las lágrimas, la desesperación, la mezcla de terror y esperanza, las oraciones. La gratitud. Nuestro arco iris. Nuestro regalo de Dios, nuestro recordatorio de la promesa que Dios nos guarda, nos cuida, nos ama, a pesar de las tormentas de la vida en la tierra. 

La lluvia y el sol. Las nubes oscuras y las rayas brillantes. El llanto y el gozo. La promesa antigua que la vida en la tierra continuará. 

Sé que hay tantas familias que no recibirán ningún arco iris. Que a veces el dolor no se alivia en esta vida. 

Pero también sé que los milagros sí existen. Me aferro a uno en los brazos mientras observamos la belleza de otro en el cielo.

el verano pasado, señalando con el dedito (y su conejito favorito) <3

 

- He puesto mi arco iris en las nubes, y servirá como señal de la alianza que hago con la tierra. Gen 9:13

The missing spark

Day 22 of 31 at TWT!

 "I will make her a new test!" The long-term sub hops quirkily and claps his hands together, eyes bright.

Inside my mask, my mouth is probably a funny combination of hanging open and stretching into a wide grin. He'd walked over to hover at my shoulder as I reviewed my student's practice quizzes with her, and I'd just asked what the real test would be like: would it have long matching sections with words like the one practice quiz, or might it have more pictures like the other?

"Oh wow, thank you, that would be amazing!" I sputter. I've been waiting all year for this to happen with several other colleagues, and just weeks after taking over the class, he's literally jumping to do it. As a sub.

"Yes, yes, I will make her her own test, with not so many words!" He scampers to his desk to grab a sticky note and scurries back to our table.

"Oh thank you so much! That will be wonderful! Some of these element/compound pictures with the little colored circles would be great, and you could also have a picture showing a container with an object inside, and arrows pointing to label the densities of the liquid and the object..." I have to make sure I'm not talking too fast in my excitement about his enthusiasm. I absolutely LOVE collaborating with colleagues to help them better meet their ELs' needs, and it has been harder at this new school than I'd hoped. "... if you make it in a Google Doc, share it with me and I can add some suggestions! Or I can check back in with you the next morning I'm here!" 

"Yes, I can do that! I will make it this weekend and share it with you! I will adjust to your notes! Then she can show her learning without so many words!" 

I lean into my student's ear. "Mr. R is going to make you a new test! It will have more pictures and not so many words. So don't worry!" I know she gets so anxious about tests. "We will work together to make it better for you!"

She nods as imperceptibly as ever, but I see a tiny glimmer of relief in her eyes. 

As the students file out of class, I go back up to his desk. "I really, really appreciate your enthusiasm for making a modified EL test! I'm so excited to work together to help her show her learning better!"

His smile is huge as he nods vigorously. "Yes! I have to! I have to differentiate!" 

I grin. "Yes, absolutely... but not everybody does." The discouragement of my hopes for the year washes through my mind. "Thank you so, so much for caring about our EL students!" I'm so grateful I could fly and cry at the same time.

When he sends me his draft over the weekend, it's even better than I expected. He used a couple other strategies that I would have recommended but hadn't even mentioned yet. I suggest a few wording simplifications and tell him what a great job he did, adding, "Could I use this as an example of an excellent modified test to show colleagues?" 

This could be the missing spark: a model of ownership, enthusiasm, and eagerness to adapt. I can't wait to get the ball rolling.

Enjoy the wow!

Day 4 of 31 at TWT!

"Can I take this other books to Daddy's den?" Rainbow Girl is clutching a pile of the little paper books Sis colored at the beginning of remote kindergarten in her tiny hands. 

He doesn't sound like he's on a call right now. "Sure!" I'm amazed at how she's progressed from simple words a year ago to the giant, mostly correct sentences she uses now. 

She toddles off in her wiggly way, floppy paper book pages trying to spill out of her arms. The joyful thumps of her little feet fill the house as she rounds the corner and plunks herself down at Husband's feet as he navigates emails and helpdesk tickets from multiple monitors. 

 

Opening her mouth much wider than necessary, she takes an exaggerated breath, holds the book out with the front cover up, and declares, "This is...     the green book" in the overly serious, imperial tone she uses while "reading" something. Her blue eyes widen as her dainty fingers carefully find the bottom corner, grasp the pages, and open the book, holding it with outstretched arms for a minute before pulling it back to a more natural reading position. Her brow furrows as she contemplates the picture in the middle of the page. "The...     apple...    is green!"

She plops the paper book down on her lap with an overly dramatic amount of force. Those still-babyish fingers fiddle with the corner of the page again and successfully turn to the next page. Those adorable eyes pop wide open again and the stately tone continues, "The... turtle is green." She switches back to her regular, sweet, high-pitched voice and her face scrunches into her biggest smile, "For Daddy!" (Turtles are his favorite animal!) After briefly glancing at me to show her pride at remembering that special fact, she whips her head back to the book, flips another page, and returns to her dignified reading voice. "The fwrog is green!"

With each new page, she carefully peers at the picture, then touches the words at the bottom with a chubby finger as she "reads" in that much-too-serious-for-a-two-year-old declarative tone. "The... wleaf is... green." Fiddle-grasp-flip. "The alligator! is guh-REEN!" Another switch back to her regular baby-voice for some more commentary: "I don't like alligators! They're sharp!" 

Upon finishing that book, she unceremoniously tosses it aside and grabs another from the tilting pile on her lap. "Now the ORANGE one!" More distinguished reading-tone with occasional interjections of regular sweet-voice, more painstaking page-flipping, more running her chubby pointer finger across the words.

I just stand at the door of the den and take it in, giggling with a full heart. Two years ago, she was just a little snuggle-bundle transitioning from preemie clothes to the smallest newborn clothes. As one of our favorite Daniel Tiger songs says, it's time to enjoy the WOW. <3

Unexpected Love

Tuesdays at Two Writing Teachers!

What does he want this time? 

Two minutes of my planning period remain before the bell rings to signal the start of the weekend. H. who is in one of my morning classes but has a class in my room during this period, is hovering a few steps away from the corner of my desk.

When he did this a few days after joining my class, it was to tell me he thought our class was too hard. (I reassured him that meant that he was now in the right place, as we'd switched him out of a class that was too easy for him.) A week later, it was to campaign for a break and ask why we have to work so hard all the time. (I took this a compliment, pointed to the big cut-out word "relentless" on the wall, and told him that I want him to graduate... and reassured him that we do have fun, too!) Does he need something? Is he going to complain about something again?

I "fix my face" a la Maya Angelou*, making sure my eyes sparkle with a real smile for him when I look up from my laptop. "What's up, H.?"

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and half-smiles. "You know how much I love you?"

??? I'm not sure how to answer this question from a male teenage student. Is he serious? "Yeah?" I answer-ask in what I hope is a joking tone.

"A LOT!" The half-smile blooms into a full one that spreads across his face. "I didn't know what to think of your class at first, and I didn't really like it..." His words are picking up speed and he's standing more firmly on his feet. "But now I really love it. I love being in your class!" His eyes beam joy right into mine.

I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding and relax my shoulders. "Aw, thanks, H! I love having you in my class!" What high school boy actually says that to his teacher? And at the end of the day on Friday? "Seriously, thanks so much for saying that. It means a lot!"

The bell rings, he waves, and the boisterous bustle of a high school at 2:42 on a Friday erupts in the hallway. I'm frozen in my desk chair, wrapped in the same kind of surreal delight that happens when I finish a really remarkable book and I just have to sit for a minute, feeling its weight in my hands.

* "You must remember, the very first thing a child sees, the first thing they notice when they see you, is you seeing them. They look carefully to see what your face looks like as you lay eyes upon their face. When you see a child, no matter what,  remember to fix your face."  

-- Maya Angelou

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.

Just perfect

Tuesdays at Two Writing Teachers!

May 9, 2015, 2:15 a.m.

"Um, c-c-can you wipe my face?" Squirming my hands in a futile attempt to gesture, I strained against the straps that held my arms down.

"Oh, are you hot?" the nurse looked up from whatever she was doing down by my legs.

"N-no... I, um... the tears are running into my ears..." I bit my lip and squeaked out the words, my face burning. It's bad enough be so filled with terror on the operating table during what is supposed to be one of the happiest moments of your life that you can't keep the tears from leaking out, but even worse to have to admit it out loud to a roomful of strangers. If the tears could have run down my face, I wouldn't have minded, but in my horizontal state, those salty warm droplets were tickling my ears in an unbearably annoying way that might have been funny if I wasn't such a mess.

"Oh!" the nurse's face softened and she wiped my face, thankfully without asking why I was crying. Maybe she thought they were happy tears, like normal moms must cry when they're getting ready to give birth? If so, she must not have seen my wide, terrified eyes peeking out of my tense face. I'm not ready for this. I'm so not ready for this! She isn't supposed to come for another 3 weeks! Oh, I'm so not ready to do this. There's no way I'm going to be a good mom. Good moms aren't petrified at the thought of having their babies. What on EARTH was I thinking?! I don't even like babies! What if I don't like her? Some moms don't fall in love with their babies right away! Oh gosh, I totally can't do this...!!!

"Hi, honey!" Husband walked in, covered in funny blue hospital scrubby clothes. I shot panic from my eyes to him, and as he started to talk to me, the whirlwind of the last six hours blended, blurred, and slowed. Our dramatic trip to the hospital, texting and Facebook posts, checkups, me napping while he sat in an uncomfortable chair. Feeling like a solitary island in a swirling sea of medical staff while he had to wait outside: echoes of everyone constantly announcing my name and what they were doing, calling out words and phrases I'd only heard on Scrubs. Calm, kind Dr. Gee (the chief resident, that's like J.D. or Turk in the later seasons, right?) telling me they were going to paint me with some blue Cookie Monster paint, trying to get a giggle out of me. Perching on the edge of the cot while he held my hands and looked right into my eyes, helping me taking slow breaths and talking about how important it was to stay absolutely still. Getting my legs swung up to lie down and the shocking feeling of my arms in straps. (Who knew your arms got strapped down for a C-section?!) The now-infamous tears-in-ears display. And after those tumultuous minutes of bobbing alone with my thoughts and these strangers, Husband in this funny blue alien outfit.

Someone asked if I could feel anything as they ran a knife across my skin. When I said no, they started jiggling my belly. Such a strange sensation! Down there behind the blue curtain, they were playing with my belly, shaking and wiggling it! I couldn't help giggling. "They're jiggling my belly!" I grinned at Husband.

"Do you want us to lower the curtain?" the OB asked. While curious, I had visions of ruining the moment by getting sick, even though I'm usually fine with blood. "Um, no thanks!" And the next thing we knew, a squirmy little red bundle appeared in a pair of gloved hands above the curtain. The next thing I knew, Husband was gazing at me with glistening eyes, cradling the tiny bundle in his arms. We were a little family! Someone put my glasses back on so I could really see her. She was so perfect! Her serene, dainty little face was the cutest thing I'd ever seen. A nurse took a quick picture of the THREE of us with Husband's phone and another with our real camera. My heart was so light and full it seemed like it would fly right up out of my chest and burst out of the ceiling.

When they took her over to a corner of the room to wash her off and check her out, we could hear her making the most adorable yelps, yips, and squeaks. I didn't know babies could sound like little animals! I thought they just cried all the time! We giggled and grinned, squeezing each other's hands.

More gloved hands brought her back and set her on my chest, and I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Her tiny mouth! Her flat little nose! Her tranquil closed eyes! Her minuscule fingers! I loved her. I really loved her!

From the other side of the blue curtain, Dr. Gee exclaimed, "Your belly's gone!" From the small weight gain I'd had, that was no surprise. But I didn't care what was happening down there, because something amazing was curled up on my chest.

I loved everything about her, and I wasn't scared anymore. She was just perfect.

Thank FULL

Tuesdays at Two Writing Teachers!

"I love godmother"

"💕 THANK YOU 💕 "

"Dear Mama, Thank you for loving me..."

My heart does a few flips in my chest as I glance around the table at the thank-you cards my beginner ELLs are making for people they are thankful for. "Aww, your people are going to LOVE these!" I squeal, and the warmth spreading through my body grows as I peer closer over their shoulders.

"Thank you for supporting me in everything..."

"I appreciate when you listen to me..."

"I am grateful for your patience even when I am unruly"

"I love when we talk in the kitchen..."

The language teacher in me is excited that they're doing a great job applying the sentence structures and vocabulary from my mini-lesson, but the so-much-more-than-language teacher in me wants to skip across the room. My kids are the absolute sweetest. They do not have all the words they need, but they are not afraid to try to say exactly what is in their hearts.

The bell is about to ring, and I want to hug them all, wishing I could see each of them give these cards to the special people in their lives, when H. waves me over to her seat. "Mrs. M, how do you spell your name?" And in case my heart couldn't get any fuller, she fills my name into the blank space she had left after "Dear" and hands her card to me.

There is no better feeling than knowing that your students see you exactly as you hope they do.

Raising readers

Day 30 of 31 at TWT!

"I don't like reading because in my country [UAE] baby don't like to read, and when they grow bigger they still don't like." Sadly, I'm not even surprised when I get to this part of A's reflection letter.

The first time one of my Middle Eastern students told me in a reading conference that he had never read a book before, I almost fell out of my chair. Never read a book?! How could someone get to high school having never read a book?! I knew reading was a less common pastime in some other countries than it is here, but...?! No wonder it was such a struggle to help these kids find "just right" books in English -- they'd never even done that in Arabic!

But after several years of getting that exact response nearly every time I conference with another new student from the Middle East, I've come to expect it. "In my country, I was weird because I read books," admitted J, the one Iraqi student who came to me already identifying as a reader. "I love being here because there are so many books, and other people read! I'm not weird for reading stories here."

Turning kids into readers is one of the absolute best parts of my job, but even many high schoolers who "hate" reading have chosen books before, read books before, and often even have fond memories of a time in their childhoods, long ago, when they did enjoy reading. Winning back those reluctant readers is a much different task than starting from absolute scratch with kids who have no concept of what's it's like to choose a book and no cultural frame of reference for the idea that reading is something that people do for fun. While I'm used to this by now, hearing students identify and articulate that cultural norm still jars me.

A.'s insightful reflection illustrates how crucial it is to grow readers from the moment they are born. I don't know if he would have noticed the cultural difference anyway, like J, or if all the pictures I show of my baby reveling in her books helped him realize and articulate it. Either way, it's such a powerful statement:
"I don't like reading because in my country baby don't like to read..."

Not in my country, thank goodness. And definitely not in my house!

Even the Easter Bunny knows...

... Little Sweetie is already a reader!

"Look, Mommy!"

Raising readers is important, magical work, whether they're ten months old or in tenth grade. So grateful that I get to share the joy of reading with one very special kid who wiggles with glee at the sight of a book... but just as thankful that I also get to spread it to so many others who have either lost that delight or never even knew it at all.

New mornings

Day 29 of 31 at TWT!

Mornings were always the worst. The very worst! The abrupt beep of the alarm jarring me out of peaceful sleep. Peeling my eyes open, only to be greeted by thick, bleak darkness. Who decided high schools should start when it's still dark out, anyway?! Sluggishly convincing myself to peel back the cozy cocoon of covers that protected me from not only the cold, but also the inevitably looming weight of stress and exhaustion.

Sweet Husband tried everything to make that early hour more bearable. He'd get up early with me even though he goes to work much later. He bought me a cheerful Wake-up Light to repel the darkness and greet us with a gentle, tinkling chime. He even created a special "wake-up" playlist for me to listen to while I plodded listlessly through the nearly insurmountable task of getting ready each morning.

Each improvement brightened the day and lightened my steps a little, but I still hated mornings. Hated them. And the more stressed I got, the more miserable those mornings became.

Until...

Tiny squeaks and yelps emerge from down the hallway. "Ba-ba-ba-ba. Woooo!" She babbles to herself. Rustle-rustle. Thump! Thud! A smile sneaks its way across my face and sleepiness quickly slips away as I picture her squirming and swimming on her Nemo crib sheet, rolling from side to side to reach her dainty fingers out the bars of her crib, and lifting both feet high just to thump them down again. "Aaah, she's SO CUTE!!!" I whisper in Husband's ear and throw an arm happily across his chest.

Flutter, flap, flail! She always convulses with pure joy when one of us walks into her room to get her out of her crib, stretching her signature smile so wide open it seems it might split her face in two.

"That's Nemo! And there's Brutus! There's Nemo with the seahorse! That's Brutus again! That's your big bunny. There's Nemo and Squirt! Hi, Nemo and Squirt!" I know she's pointing and waving at all her favorite "friends" in her room as Husband carries her to the changing table. How can I be anything but happy as I listen to those two sweeties chatter and play?

"Ha-aaAAH!" She squeals and cackles, and I peer through the doorway to glimpse her tugging on his hair as he bends over to search through her dresser for the latest adorable outfit. "What do you want to wear today, Sweetie?" He croons in the softest, sweetest, just-for-her voice.

"That's Daddy's nose! Boop! There's your nose!"
"Are you getting Daddy's arm? Are you gonna eat Daddy's arm?!"
"That's Nemo. And that's Squirt! Hi, friends!"
"Whoooooop!" I know that's the sound of him pulling a shirt over her head. She's not a fan of getting clothes pulled over her head, but she doesn't mind nearly as much when he makes this cute little sound effect!

"Ma-ma-ma-ma."
"Yes, we're going to go see Mama. She's getting your restaurant ready!"

They round the corner and there's an immediate storm of squirm-flap-flail-thrashing. She bounces up and down in his arms, panting, grabbing his shirt with clenched fists and pointing & waving at me. "Ma-ma-ma."

"Hi, sweetie!" All traces of sleepiness are long gone, lost in these happy, sweet, precious morning moments. The very best.

New Life

Day 27 of 31 at TWT!

Streaming sunlight. Almost-summer warmth on bare arms and legs. Toes wiggling in my dressy sandals. Cerulean sky. The most gentle breeze playing with my curls.

That tiny finger pointing to the handbell choir. That wide, toothy smile and playfully curling tongue. Wiggles, bounces, and babbles to the music. Snuggly warmth on my lap and silky skin patting my hand. Active eyes absorbing every person and decoration.

A perfect Easter Sunday.

(Mommy used to play those handbells. Now M&M loves to hear them!)

"He arose a victor 

from the dark domain..."

"God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also..."

"Raise your joys 

and triumphs high..."

As I listen to each snippet of scripture, sermon, and song, I look back on the past year and thank God for the transformation he has brought me: Little Sweetie gave me my new life. Darkness to light. Stress to peace. Bleakness to exuberance. Fear to strength and joy. A whole new kind of love. A whole new meaning to the Easter message.

A day full of pure joy and new life.

Two sweet

Day 23 of 31 at TWT!

"Ha-aAH!" Little Sweetie squeals as she triumphantly stretches her face into her most ridiculous, crazy-eyed, gaping smile: the one where she opens her mouth so widely I wonder how her jaw doesn't unhinge.

"Are you very big and tall?" Husband's eyes sparkle as he croons at her in his sugary just-for-her voice. His arms are stretched toward the ceiling, holding her up at she pushes her tiny feet against his shoulders. She flails her little arms as if she's trying to fly, then claps her hands together and rolls her shoulders in, forming a picture-perfect pose that I'm not sure how she learned.

He swings her down low and folds her in a cozy hug, then heads upstairs with exaggeratedly bouncy steps.

Daddy! You're so fun!

That always-curious little finger pokes outward in myriad directions, signaling the fascinating qualities of usually overlooked objects that Husband cheerfully names for her. "That's the remote. That's the window. There's a picture of you! Lamp. Mommy's bag. Marching Band flag..." Wiggling and clinging to him, she digs her minuscule fists into the fabric of his shirts and babbles all the way up to her room.

Look, Daddy!

A few minutes later, muffled cackling drifts down the hallway. I peek into her room, and his skinny fingers are scampering up and down her pink pajamas, making her writhe in delight. "Is Daddy getting you?" She squeals and giggles through squirmy, toothy grins, and I can see pure love gleaming from his eyes into hers.

I love playing with you, Daddy!

Those two: too sweet! Every moment I see them together, I love each of them more.

We didn't know

Day 19 of 31 at TWT!

Dear M&M,

1 year ago today!

Today my Facebook memories alerted me that one year ago, we were on our "staycation" downtown, and a butterfly decided to show us how special you were by landing right on my belly to greet you!

One year ago, you were just a wiggly little mystery in my belly. We knew you were a girl, and we were pretty sure what your name would be, but we didn't know who you were.

You were pretty cute when you wiggled and jiggled around in your cozy belly home, making ripples and tiny earthquakes that we could watch and giggle at. Those dance parties were special moments of pure happiness in the midst of a lot of stress, apprehension, and uncertainty.

We didn't know you'd courteously cut short the worst of the worries by coming three weeks early. We didn't know you'd make such a dramatic-yet-easy entrance to the world. We didn't know that when the doctors pulled you out of my belly, you'd have a sweeter, more adorable little face than we could have possibly imagined. And we didn't know that when they carried you across the surgery room to examine you and wash you off, you'd make the cutest little animal yelps and squeaks we'd ever heard!

We didn't know that you'd be such a good sleeper that we'd wake up in a panic our first full night in the hospital, scared to death because we'd slept four hours and you were supposed to eat every three! Or that you'd start sleeping through the night at a month old, leaving us to just laugh whenever people ask us if we're getting any sleep. And we didn't know that you'd immediately be such a good eater that our nurse would marvel at what a talented baby you were.

How could we have known that you'd be the happiest baby in the history of the world, filling our days with huge, wide-mouthed smiles, delighted giggles and chortles, joyful squeals and screeches, excited hand-clapping, and lively wiggles? How could we imagine the way your bright eyes would widen inquisitively as if every ordinary object was an incredible marvel, helping us to see the world in a new, wondrous way?

We didn't know you'd love exploring new places and meeting new people so much that we'd be able to take you wherever we wanted to go, or that you'd actually inspire us to get out and do more fun things than we used to. And we couldn't have dreamed how you'd make every part of life (from folding laundry to going on a walk!) so much more fun.

We didn't know what a joy it would be to watch you grow and change, teaching us to see what a miracle life really is. First, we were amazed that you could keep your eyes open and notice things. Then, you started to be able to control your body, progressing from uncoordinated flails and swipes to precise hitting, grabbing and grasping. Your eyes started tracking objects you were interested in, and you began turning your head to look in the direction of a sound. Those cute animal noises changed into babbles that are now almost words! You roll over! You sit up! You say "mama" and "dada"! You pull yourself up, and you can stand with minimal help! You point, clap, and wave! We didn't know how amazing you'd be.

Most of all, we didn't know how you'd help us improve our lives. We didn't know who you'd help us become: happier, healthier, stronger. And able to love in a whole new way.

Thank you for bringing so much delight to our lives, and for being so lovable that we just can't help calling you "Little Sweetie" so much that we're afraid you'll end up thinking that's your name! Your daddy and I love you more than we could have possibly imagined, and that love grows every day.

Love,
Mommy

The end of the rainbow

Day 17 of 31 at TWT! 

Shhhh! Husband holds his finger over his lips as I walk into the house. A snuggly bundle of sweetness rises and falls on his chest.

Perfect, rosy cheek pouches curve still and smooth, framed by porcelain skin under a canopy of wispy cornsilk. Graceful lashes arch up from scrunched eyes, nestled below feathery eyebrows. Tender arms curl and cuddle, with little fingers daintily clutching soft, green fabric.

Deep, rhythmic breaths and little sighs escape through the tiny cavern embedded with miniature pearls.
HhhHhh.
HhhHhh.
Eh!

I settle onto the couch, riveted by the dozing miracle beside me. Pure love surges through me, and a song drifts into my head: the lullaby my mom always sang to me. "You're the end of the rainbow / the star on the tree..."

This St. Patrick's Day, I couldn't possibly be any luckier. The end of my rainbow was waiting right on the couch when I got home.

Afternoon snuggles with Daddy!

Bringing peace

Day 16 of 31 at TWT!

Despite repeatedly digging her tiny fists into her eyes and burrowing into Husband's shoulder, Little Sweetie has decided she does not want to go to bed. As she makes it clear that she has a strong pair of lungs, I'm scrolling through Evernote, trying to decide what to write about. Unlike some Marches, my list of writing possibilities is actually growing instead of shrinking, but none of the ideas call out to me tonight.

Upstairs, the crying is turning into wailing, so I sigh and decide to go give Husband a break. As I reach for her, those blue eyes widen and her open mouth stretches into a sweet smile. Wiggly arms reach up for me, and her whole body squirms with delight as I lift her now-familiar weight and settle her against me.

Two balled fists immediately cling to my robe, and she buries her face in my right shoulder. Sinking into the glider, I start rocking with a powerful push, stroking her velvety head. "Shhhhh, sweetie. It's alright." Little gulps of "but-I-was-upset-Mommy!" shudder periodically across her body, slowly turning into infrequent sighs and then steady breaths. I rock more gently, and she uncurls from a tense ball into a floppy frog.

Just when I think she might be asleep, a tiny finger starts to wiggle, digging rhythmically into my elbow and playing with the wrinkles in my robe. So sweet, but this is not the time to be curious! Suddenly, she does a push-up against my chest, gazing right into my eyes. Uh-oh! I rev the rocking speed back up, but she quickly flops back into my shoulder, apparently satisfied that it's me that she's snuggling.

I bend forward to cuddle her cornsilk head against my cheek and close my eyes, taking in the sweet smell of baby shampoo, the delicate tug of her miniature fists on my robe, the cozy pressure of her body on my chest and belly, her warmth in my arms, and the dangly weight of her little feet pressing into my lap. Thoughts of school drift away, sending the tension of the day floating with them. Back and forth we rock, melting into one swaying bundle of tranquility.

My eyelids are heavy, and she's nestled calmly against me, all floppy limbs and delicate breaths. I stop rocking. Still snuggly.

I stealthily stand up. A sluggish wiggle.
I creep over to the crib. A slight re-burrowing.
I freeze until I feel perfect serenity against me again.

Slowly, gently, I peel her off of me and bend over.
Squirm. Wiggle. Uh-oh?
I deposit her in the crib like I'm trying not to spill a very full glass of water.
Plop.
Stretch.
She flops her arms behind her head, wriggles once, and lets her head droop sideways onto one arm. Eyes closed, tiny hint of a smile on her perfectly placid face.

Success! My heart beams as I gaze down at those exquisite eyelashes, rosy cheeks, and adorable features: still an angelic echo in sleep of the newborn she used to be. So grateful that I can give her the peace she brings me.

A slice of summer

Day 15 of 31 at TWT!

"Looks like everyone else had the same idea!" We have to wait for a few cars to pull ahead before we can even turn into the Dairy Queen parking lot. The drive-thru line snakes around the classic little brown building, and the front deck is a sea of families basking in the sunshine. Giggling kids covered in dripping ice cream dangle their feet from the benches that face the street, pumping their arms at passing traffic and cheering every time they get a honk. Gaggles of teens in team jerseys cluster in gossipy blobs. Moms and dads lean forward and bending over, doing their best to wipe sticky fingers and faces on squirmy targets.

"This is amazing!" I chirp to Husband for probably the tenth time, between mouthfuls of shredded chicken and fried mushrooms. "It's like summer!" My cherry milkshake slides down my throat with the cool sweetness of childhood happiness. Growing up, my mom would pick me up from school to attend her students' sporting events with her, and we'd always go to this same DQ for the exact meal I'm eating right now. And last summer, when M&M was just a couple of weeks old, we took her to this DQ for our first dinner out.

Now, she's a big girl who beams at all the other customers, squealing and clapping with delight when people enter or leave the deck. Her curious little finger stretches toward each marvel that surrounds us, silently asking, "Ooh, what's that?!"

"Daddy! Look! What's that?"

Point.
"Do you see the big girls? They're eating ice cream!"
Wiggle.

Point.
"That's a sign! It says 'Dairy Queen.' That's where we are!"
Wide-mouthed grin. "Goo!"

"Bvvvvt!" Wiggle. Point.
"Ooh, do you see the doggie? That's a doggie!"
Squirm. "Ba-ba-ba! Bvvvv."

Point. Lean. Grab!
"That's Mommy's ice cream sundae. You can't have that yet! Soon though!"

Point. Slow, finger-wiggling wave.
"Are you telling those people 'bye-bye'? That's very nice! They're going home. We'll go home soon."

Point.
"Do you see the car? That's a black car. Those people are coming to get their ice cream."

I gaze at the sunlight gleaming golden on her soft blonde hair, and I'm so grateful for this early slice of summer.

Evening snuggles

Day 2 of 31 at TWT!

I should be sending emails. Or responding to student posts. 
I could be playing a game or drifting away into the TV.
I could be diving into a book or reading my friends' slices.
I should be deciding which slice idea to use today.

But I look down and just stop.
There's my slice. There's my world.
The rest can wait.

Wispy blonde hair barely sweeping over dainty ears,

so soft and fine, with wafting whiffs of pure sweetness.

Two deep blue pools of innocent love reflecting my delight,

framed by long, delicate lashes.

Sweet smirks and spreading smiles.

Petite pearls peeking through gooey gums.

Tiny hands gently patting and exploring with wonder and love.

A velvety neck begging to be nuzzled.

Serene and fluttery rhythms: a constant miracle.
A real, live creature who becomes more of a little person every day!

Waving arms and wiggly legs stretching and reaching,

tiny toes curling, pink and perfect.

Long shadows wrap us in our own little world:

peace and love to capture and savor.

<3

Then and now

Tuesdays (and all of March!) at Two Writing Teachers!

Then

I was a perpetual motion machine

Churning out work until dark,

constantly striving for perfection,

one of the last cars in the parking lot.

Then

there was never enough time.

Rigid neck, tense shoulders, tight back.

Ruled by self-imposed schedules and checklists.

Analyzing, re-adjusting, overthinking.

Then

I couldn't turn off my brain

Worries bounced around my head,

clattering like pinballs, 

piling up until I was trapped.

Then

I couldn't see anything different.

How could I 

leave school earlier?

work out? 

relax (not just collapse)?

Still write, read, and do band?
With a baby?

How could I still be me?

But now

I walk out into afternoon sunlight,

humming, with light steps and clear eyes.

What's done is done, and the rest can wait.

Now

I work even more intensely

not just to be a better teacher, 

but also a better me.

Now

I close the lid on the worries

and flip a switch: 

Mommy!

Now

I breathe deeply and ponder possibilities:

the park? Read and play? Shopping? 

Snuggles?

Now

I live in wide smiles and sparkling eyes,

Wiggles, waves, giggles, and glee.

So much joy.

Now

There's somehow more of me in everything I do:

more energy, 

more peace, 

more strength, 

more love.

Frozen family fun

Tuesday fun at Two Writing Teachers!

"Cross-country skiing is available. M&M needs snowsuit and front carrier."

I tilt my head as I read my dad's text. Is he serious? It's so cold! What if we fell? Nobody would really take a baby cross-country skiing, right? The questions have barely flown through my brain as I grin. Of course he's serious. That's what our family is all about: having fun together.

"What do you think? Just for a little while?" I sidle up to Husband, who knows by now exactly what my family's brand of fun is: hysterical, energetic, full of love, and totally crazy.

"Ok. Heading to your house now. Ready to ski!" I can imagine my dad bouncing around the house as he waits for us.

Soon, we're strapping the front carrier to my dad and wiggling M&M into her bunny snowsuit. "You really want to take her?!" My dad is chuckling with anticipation, and M&M joins in with shrieks and squeals as she notices how excited we all are.

We pile out the door and pop on our skis, wondering what M&M will think. "Be careful, Daddy! Don't go fast like you always do!" I'm a little nervous as he takes her down the small hill beside my parents' house, but he glides steadily and carefully to the flatter backyard. Husband, my mom, and I are like a mini cluster of paparazzi as we try to get pictures of what must surely be the youngest-ever cross-country skiier, all snuggled in close to her granddaddy and peering out with wide eyes!

so sweet!

He zooms off toward the neighbor's house and we push off, pumping our poles hard to catch up. Crisp air brushes my face as if it's waking up my soul, and I relish the pure aliveness that surges through my body. I love cross-country skiing.

As I soar toward my dad, I hear a sharp squawk. Uh oh... is she too cold or scared? But my apprehension quickly melts into joy as I get close enough to see her sweet open-mouthed smile. She loves it too!!! My dad can't stop giggling gleefully as he zips across the other backyards, and I realize that I'm laughing too as I fly along behind them.

Pure delight. Pure fun. Pure love.

thinking thankfully

at Two Writing Teachers!

Awhile ago (actually, a year ago!!!), Michelle wrote an unconventional post about thankfulness, where she reflected on how everyday annoyances are really signs of bigger blessings. Since it's been a crazy and stressful (but wonderful) fall, her idea seemed like the perfect Thanksgiving slice for me this year!

So thanks, Michelle, for reminding me that I have so much to be thankful for... even on the most stressful days!

I am thankful for:

• hours upon hours of work after school each day and on the weekends -- because I have a job that I love and I know it matters
• the extensive time and effort I spend creating lessons, activities, and assessments -- because I have the freedom and flexibility to do what I know is good for my students
• my small, oddly-shaped classroom with no air vents -- because it's my own space, and I can create my own community inside it
• a seemingly incessant tide of SST, ETR, and IEP meetings -- because I know we are getting these students the support they need
• students who stop by at inconvenient times for extra help or to talk about their lives -- because they want to be successful, they trust me, and they believe I can help them
• graduate student observers and researchers who have lots of questions for me to answer -- because it's humbling and exhilarating to influence future teachers
• new students who come with limited schooling and minimal English -- because I can make a difference in their lives
• the very small number of staff members who came to my professional development sessions about supporting ELLs -- because their students will benefit, and they can pass on what they learned
• students with special needs and devastating obstacles in their lives outside of school -- because I can show them that someone cares and challenge myself to find better ways to help them
• only three computers in my classroom -- because three is better than none
• working in a building where some colleagues do not share my beliefs about education and many are inexperienced with ELLs and technology -- because I have the opportunity to be a leader
• hours spent at band practices, meetings, and performances -- because marching band is still part of my life
• all the extra hours my dad has to work right now -- because his company is successful and he's good at his job... and because now I really appreciate each minute I get to see him
• so many invitations to spend time with my mom that I don't get other things done -- because she's amazing and she loves me so much
• when Husband doesn't buy the right thing at the grocery store, or forgets to wash my favorite pants in time for me to wear them -- because he goes to the store, does the laundry, and shows me he loves me in a million other perfect ways
• so many friends who are far away -- because friendship is real when it continues across miles
• cold weather -- because it brings the possibility of shimmering, magical snow
• the ever-earlier darkness each night -- because it lets the Christmas lights shine