La magia blanca

   

Day 4 of 31 at TWT! 

(Fridays are for writing in Spanish!)

Me encanta la nieve, especialmente por la mañana. Hay una magia antigua en el momento de despertarme y ver que ha nevado. Quizás porque la nieve llega tan silenciosamente. Tal vez porque trae un cambio tan dramático al mundo: los colores y el ruido se convierten en una tranquilidad blanca. 

nuestra calle

El ajetreo se convierte en la paz. El cansancio se convierte en la novedad, y los errores se convierten en unas oportunidades para empezar de nuevo.

delante de mi escuela

Además, las cosas cotidianas se convierten en las criaturas fantásticas de la naturaleza, usualmente escondidas detrás de la confusión de cada día.

Usualmente, no veo estos árboles pequeños al lado de la acera, pero hoy me llamaron la atención
con su belleza perfecta y detallada.

¡Como una mamá y una bebé, las dos perfectas en su tranquilidad!

Veo la magia, contemplo la paz, respiro, y me siento agradecida. 

Making a difference

Day 3 of 31 at TWT!

This is the time of year when it's easy to doubt if you're doing it right. The end of the year, once so far away, suddenly looms closer. Did they grow enough? Will they be ready for the tests? Will they be ready for their classes next year?

Did I do enough of that? What happened to my brilliant plan to try this? (Guess I'll stick that on the 'maybe next year' list!) Should I have pushed that kid harder, been more on top of this one's issues?

When they leave me, will they keep being readers, writers, and learners? Will they be better people?

Luckily, reassurance tends to come just when you need it. And when I checked my email on Tuesday morning, I was surprised to see a sweet thank-you note from a former student I'd recently written a letter of recommendation for. (Even though it's one more thing on my to-do list, I love writing letters of recommendation, especially for students I've had for several years.)

What a perfect way to begin the month of slicing: a reminder not only that writing makes a difference, but that one of the things my students remember most is that I shared my writing life with them. Growing up, I didn't know whether any of my teachers were "amazing" writers, and that's too bad, because some of them probably were. If my students know my writing, if they remember seeing me wrestle with words and ideas, and if they remember how writing was a real part of my life, then they can hold onto the powerful fact that they are writers too. And then, no matter what else I did or didn't do, I've really made a difference.

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

March is here!

Day 1 of 31 at Two Writing Teachers!

March is coming...

Over the past week, writing ideas have been bouncing around my head, gaining momentum throughout the days. Of course, I'll write about Little Sweetie! And teaching. And our new house... well, maybe not until they break ground. Maybe I'll write about working out. (Will I be able to work out? Well, I'll definitely go for walks at least.)

March is coming...

Sneaky apprehension wove its tendrils into my brain. What if I can't handle it? What if I can't make it work, to write this much with a baby? And I still have projects to grade somehow... I only wrote 14 days last year! ...Yes, but I still had a great experience! I always tell my kids that whatever you write, it's still more than you'd have done otherwise. It'll be fine. Besides, I'm doing SO much better than I was last year. I can do it!

March is coming...

As if my personal thoughts and feelings weren't taking up enough room in my brain, I also had to figure out how to present the challenge to my kids. Each year I've presented it slightly differently, and each year I've still been met with too many groans and not enough excitement. Apparently, most teenagers are not naturally inclined to think that writing every day will be fun! (Who knew?) We could start by looking at my slices on my blog. But they've already seen some of those. Or maybe some of the how-to posts on TWT? No, we should read some example slices by past students. But we do that throughout the challenge! I could read-aloud one of T.'s awesome slicing reflections about how much he grew as a writer? And of course, I'll hang up the celebration posters... Ooh, maybe I should hype the celebration posters more? The kids were pretty intrigued by those last year, and now there are even more great posters! ...But what if they whine again? I have to help them see how much other kids grew!

March is coming...

March. is. here!!!!!!

celebration posters from past years with numbers of slices for the month!

We looked at the celebration posters, noticing the range in post numbers and little notes of encouragement my past students wrote on them: The thrill of receiving comments. The satisfaction of applying new writing strategies. The sense of accomplishment from the momentum of working so hard for so long. The connections formed from reading other slicers' posts.

I interjected a few of my own favorite moments from slicing: echoes of what my students had written on their posters, but with my live enthusiasm. Locking eyes with kids around the room, I summoned a little of my OSU marching band squad leader spunk. "It will be hard. It's hard for me. But it will be worth it. My students who have really gotten into it have said it's one of the best things they have done to improve their English. And we'll be doing it together."

No groans!

Smiles. Nods. Determination.
And when I read their posts, excitement.

March is here. Here we go!

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.

Beautiful

Tuesday fun at Two Writing Teachers!

Heads bent: over notebooks, over Chromebooks, towards each other.

Tiny islands of ideas scattered around the room: sunk into a pillow, at a desk beside the window, sprawled on the rug, huddled at a table.

Loud silence. Quiet chatter. Arabic. Spanish. English. Thoughts taking shape.

Heartbreaking, uplifting, sweet, excited, strong, scared, beautiful stories.

"... Palacio de Bellas Artes..."

"... my father come to study..."

"... how everyone was afraid and you didn't know what would happen..."

"... studying and playing with my friends..."

"... the government pay for everything so we can learn English..."

"... I walked for three months..."

"... the beautiful mountains..."

"... the American occupation of Iraq..."

"... we wait for six years..."

"... all students would go to a garden..."

"... the scary things happened..."

"... this is my fifth country..."

"... I'll ask my mom..."

"... and I was so nervous because I didn't know English..."

"... this year I want to tell my story..."

"... the war..."

Our school's multicultural celebration is always my favorite day of the year, and the weeks leading up to it are the most precious times in my classroom. But this year, more than ever, I've talked with my students about how this is their chance to combat ignorance and prejudice, especially in light of the negativity around immigration that has reared its ugly head over the past few months. This year, more than ever, my students really recognize how powerful their stories are.

Maybe it's the way I introduced the project this year. Maybe it's the fact that some of my students have experienced the event several times now, and their enthusiasm is sparking the minds and hearts of the others. Maybe it's the way we've been talking all year about being brave and strong. Maybe it's just magic, but my students are more willing than ever to share their incredible personal journeys, and I can't wait.

Today, before we continued storyboarding our ideas, we read "I, Too" by Langston Hughes. While he wrote it about being black, it's just as true for my amazing immigrant students, especially the marginalized refugees from the Middle East and Central & South America.

"Besides,

They'll see how beautiful I am 

And be ashamed --  

I, too, am America."

(Langston Hughes)