A million times

Day 7 of 31 at TWT!

Fingers splayed, scrawny arms locked straight and opened wide, straining against her carseat straps, M&M's eyes crinkle as a huge grin displays her perfect teeth. I've just flipped back my seat to reach across and let her out of the car, but instead I find myself climbing into the backseat. Who could resist those outstretched little arms?

"Mmmm, I love you, Mommy! I love you a million times!" she squeals, yanking my neck to smush my head against her face. "I miss you when you're at work!"

"Awww, I love you too, Sweetie! And I miss you when I'm at work!" I pat her soft hair, close my eyes, breathe deeply to capture the scent of watermelon shampoo, and relish her little wriggles as she continues murmuring, "Mmm, I love you!"

Later, as I'm halfway through dinner, the clattering of toy kitchen tools, balls, and musical toys comes to an abrupt halt. Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud. "Who wants a sticker?"

"Oh, I would love a sticker!" I keep stirring the ground beef that's browning on the stove.

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud. A blonde blur presses a crinkly rectangle against my hip. Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud. "Who would like another sticker?"

"Oh boy, sure! I love stickers!"

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud. (Whoever coined the phrase, "the pitter-patter of little feet" had never met my daughter. She only has one speed, and it does not result in a soft pitter-patter!) Little fingers smooth another rectangle onto my back.

By the time the shepherd's pie is in the oven, I'm a masterpiece of My Little Pony-themed modern art.

"I gave you lots of stickers 'cause you love stickers!" She is so proud to be able to make me happy. I'm so proud that she's so sweet.

Well decorated... I ended up discovering 12 when I peeled them off just now!

"I love you, Mommy! I love you a million times!"

Rising strong anyway

Day 6 of 31 at TWT!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finding their voices

Day 4 of 31 at TWT! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Belief and bravery

Day 3 of 31 at TWT!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I, um..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turning point

Day 2 of 31 at TWT!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Uniquely united

Day 1 of 31 at TWT!

"I'm not nervous anymore!" K. bounced up to me, her blonde ponytail swinging, all of the tension she'd been carrying an hour ago clearly washed away. "Do you know what the coolest thing I learned was? In Syria they have a food that's just like one we have in Albania, with even the same name!"

"Yeah, and in Egypt we have something that's just like what they have in Argentina!" M. chimed in.

After a class period practicing their mini-presentations with their squad groups, my students were all fired up for the main event: our school's annual "Global Cafe", featuring over a hundred student displays showcasing our diversity. American students research their family's heritage, but my ELLs particularly shine as they bring their cultures alive with unique pride. Hundreds of students and staff members voluntarily fill the cafeteria for two hours after school to learn, share, and celebrate each other.

Balancing everything from Libyan pasta to Venezuelan arroz con leche to Iraqi baklava on my clipboard, I float through a vibrant sea of color, music, flavor, and the sweet chatter of unbridled pride meeting genuine curiosity.

K. teaches me all about Albania!

"I just have to tell you..." a science teacher comes bounding up to me. "Your student from Argentina... I think his name is M... he just did an amazing job! He was so enthusiastic and informative!"

As I scarf down some sweets from Qatar to make room for alfajores from Argentina, M. shows me how he organized his display by geographic regions. 

"Mrs. M!" S. practically skips up to me with a smile so big it might stretch right off her face. "There was a girl, and I wrote her name on her hand! Can I do yours?"

I hold still while S, in traditional Syrian clothes, writes my last name in Arabic on my hand with Henna!

A. gives my daughter a card where he wrote her name in Arabic!

M, in traditional clothing, teaches my daughter and me about Egypt!

When we have the time and space to share our stories, our differences remind us how similar we all really are.

All my heart

Tuesdays at Two Writing Teachers!

Tonight
I was going to write about the Chinese New Year celebration we attended on campus yesterday
and how my daughter was completely enamored
with the friendly dancing lion
while the professors and students were completely enamored
with my daughter
in her silk dress my dad brought her from one of his many recent business trips to China

but just now
as Husband was helping her into her unicorn & rainbow pajama pants,
she suddenly spun around, declaring,
"I'm going to kiss you, Mommy!"

And she did,
leaning over to me with little arms outstretched:
"Mm-muh!"

And then
wrapping those wriggly arms around my head,
big blue eyes staring into mine,
she started running her spindly fingers through my hair.

"I like your hair, Mommy!"
Tiny fingers winding, weaving, and smoothing my frizzy flyaways.
"Your hair is nice!
"Your ponytail is soft, comfy, and sweet!"

Those deep blue pools again:
"I love you! I really love you!"

And now
that's all my heart
and brain
contain.

So you'll have to be content with just a picture
of the little blonde girl who loved a dancing Chinese lion yesterday.