A Literary Hug

When a writer sends words out into the world, she never knows upon whose heart they may land.

A comment on my mom's online obituary began a serendipitous trail. 

Let me back up to March 24th, where I was wrapping up my slice of life challenge. My writing group had a journal club meeting, and one of the prompts was about a hiding place. I wrote about a mulberry tree that I used to play in with my childhood best friend. I turned that entry into a poem and posted it as a slice the next day.

As I was reading the comments on the obituary, I saw one from this childhood friend. She wrote about how my mom always included her even with all my mom's responsibilities. I was touched by the comment because I have not seen this friend since we graduated high school over 40 years ago.

A few days later, my sister sent a text showing me a post by my friend. Apparently, she Googled me and found my blog.

And found the poem I wrote about her.

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating 
a space for me and other teacher-writers to share our stories.

A Saturday Morning Blessing

Moving my way down the aisle at the grocery store, I see a family trying to corral a toddler. As she climbs on top of the stocked cases of pop, her mom grabs her, tickling her. Dad looks at me and moves on. Then turns around and says, "You were one of my teachers."

Of course, he is a grown man and looks nothing like a 4th grader, so I say, "Ok, you are going to have to tell me who you are because you have obviously changed since I had you in school."

He tells me his name, and my face lights up. When I ask him if this is his family, he introduces me and tells me what he is doing. My heart flips and flops as I look at him with so much admiration. He is in the army and stationed in Georgia, due to get out next summer. He will have a degree in criminology and wants to come back here and work on the sheriff's department. His wife is working on her master's degree in social work. 

This is a student who came from some very hard places. He saw things as a child that no child should ever see. His mother was a meth addict and was in and out jail so many times. He was exposed to domestic violence and was eventually raised by his grandfather. He was one of those students who you just prayed would somehow break away from those chains. He struggled in school, but he knew school was the safest place he could be.

I wished him luck and thanked him for stopping and saying something to me.

Leaving the store that day, my heart was smiling. Those are the success stories we as teachers love to hear and what makes teaching have a purpose beyond the ABCs and the 1,2,3s.

What a Saturday morning blessing!

  

Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating a space to share a small corner of my world.

Celebrate the Light

Image by Mike Sampson

The

world comes

together.

A brief moment

of total darkness

we celebrate the light

and hope we bring each other.

In a collective voice of cheers

my tears of wonder silently stream.

 

Thank you to the writers at Two Writing Teachers for creating this safe place for us to meet, to share, and to grow as writers.

Stories That Start with a Kitten

"Sometimes stories start with a bang, and sometimes stories start with a whisper, and sometimes stories start with a car chase or a fist fight or someone being born or someone dying. Sometimes stories start with a kitten. I mean, the funny thing about stories is that they don't really start or stop at all...It's just the telling that starts or stops."

This is the opening paragraph in the new book, Coyote Lost and Found, by Dan Gemeinhart, which is due out March 5th. I feel this is not only a great opening paragraph, but it also describes my relationship with slicing. 

As I get ready to jump into the March challenge in just a few weeks, I realize another year has gone by, and I have let my practice of slicing fall away. I always make a goal to continue slicing after I turn the page on my calendar, but for several years, I have fallen short.

But do my stories really start on March 1st and end on March 31st? If Coyote is right, then my stories haven't stopped...only my telling of them has.

My life right now is full of stories, but stories that are hard to share, and honestly, are quite depressing. I need to find those stories that "start with a kitten," that start with a little happiness.

It's time to find those stories hiding in my ordinary; it's time to start slicing again.

 

 Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating a space to share our stories.

Will we get snow?

 Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating a space to share our stories.

We began hearing whispers of potential snow a few days ago. My husband has been glued to the weather app and sends us updates regularly...many more than we need. I think sending them helps him to believe that we really might get some. He is just like a kid anticipating that first big snow of the year.

"Looks like some snow next weekend."

"1-3" Monday and dropping to around 10 degrees that night."

"Maybe 1-3 on Sunday too."

"Now they are calling for up to 8 inches."

"Now it's all rain."

"Negative 4 on Tuesday morning now."

"1-3 back in play Friday night winds up to 40mph." 

"Who knows...apparently they don't."

I think I will just wait and wake up and let my own eyes be my weather forecaster while my husband dreams of a snow like the one we had a few years ago!

The Plan

We had the perfect plan. All our Ts were crossed and Is were dotted. My sister took Mom and her caregiver out for lunch while my brother, husband, daughter, and I quickly packed. We had very little time to move Mom's things to the memory care unit before she unknowingly arrived.

The men loaded the love seat and tables, while Megan and I packed pictures and a few personal items. Her clothes were already moved the day before. In under 30 minutes we were packed and ready. The plan was on schedule.

As I looked back before shutting the door, I saw the opened can of diet coke and the honey bun wrapper from the morning's breakfast still sitting on the counter.

And then it hit me. The realization that she was never coming back home.

I wasn't quite ready for that part of the plan.

 

 Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating a space to share our stories.

Writing Reflection

As the year makes its way to the home stretch, I took some time to reflect on my writing habit. Or maybe I should say my lack of a writing habit.

I am almost to the end of a notebook, which has taken me much too long to fill. Running my fingers over the slight indentation of the ink on the pages, I reread some entries tonight. The poems, reflections, and memories came flooding back, and I realized how much I miss regular writing in my notebook. I have written a lot this year, but it has been more professional writing. But writing in a notebook is just...well it's just different.

I made a list of what kept me from writing this year. Three things bubbled up:  my phone, not creating a habit, and making excuses. These are three areas I intend to improve on in the coming year, and I know these will be the catalyst for my writing goals for 2024. 

My next decision:  Do I abandon a notebook that has taken too long to fill, or do I plug away and finish it before starting a new one in 2024. This is hard for me, as I am one who likes "fresh beginnings." 

What about you? Do you like new notebooks at the beginning of the year? Or are you a start-to-finish kind of notebooker?

Here's to writing in 2024! May my words return and find a home on the page.

 Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating a space to share our stories.

Why I Refuse to Wear an Ugly Christmas Sweater

 

I wasn't always a teacher. In my first career, I was in retail management. I managed two mall stores and eventually became a district manager, overseeing 14 stores in central Illinois and eventually moving back home to the southwestern Indiana area. 

I loved my job, especially at Christmas time. Our "early-bird" hours started at 8:00, and I loved working that Friday after Thanksgiving with the all the hustle and bustle. 

It was during this time, the 1980s, that I fell in love with Christmas sweaters. Beautifully hand-knitted 100% cotton, button-down sweaters and vests with appliqued Santas and snowmen. These sweaters were an endearing symbol of holiday cheer. 

Then the 1990s hit, and these sweaters lost their appeal because only "old people" wore them. They were being tossed out to secondhand stores like sunflower seeds to birds. Somewhere in the 2000s, people began shopping in the secondhand stores, and these Christmas sweaters experienced a rebirth.

Only this time, it wasn't an endearing symbol of holiday cheer. It was a mockery of something I adored. We began seeing these sweaters worn at company Christmas parties and in the workplace. And yes, I still thought they were beautiful.

The appeal of Christmas sweaters has snowballed in recent years and the mockery has hit an all-time high. Now, manufactures are intentionally creating "ugly Christmas sweaters" in 100% itchy acrylic, and people of all ages are holding "Ugly Christmas Sweater" Days. 

Call me old or literally "old-fashioned," but I refused to participate in Ugly Christmas Sweater Days. I think back to those retail days when life and shopping and Christmas sweater designs were beautifully simple, and I just. Can't. Do. It!

 Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating a space to share our stories. 

Haunted Haiku

My writing life has taken a dip, and I really needed a spark. So, this past weekend, Teach Write had a game night, and I participated. We played with Paint Chip Poetry cards and what fun we had! I have had this in my Amazon cart for quite a while, but for some reason, I have never bought it.

After playing it with writerly friends, I think it has to become mine!

We each chose 12 paint colors from a random color generator, and then used the prompt cards from the game.

In my first poem I used the following colors:  forward fushia, gory movie, and spicy red. The prompt card was "heartbreak." I chose to write a haunted haiku with it.

Forward Fushia

with spicy red lips
leaves trails of blood kisses like
a gory movie

A Stinky Surprise

I have written many slices from my front and back porches, and my time there continues to fill me with stories. 

Even stinky ones.

A few days ago, I was sitting on the back porch watching the Facebook live video with Kate and Maggie. Earlier that day, I had been watching a little bunny romp around the backyard nibbling on clover. 

As I was watching the video, I was zoned in when I noticed something move out of the corner of my eye. Thinking the bunny had returned, I continued watching the video, not paying much attention to it.

All of a sudden, I noticed that what I thought was the bunny had come very close to the porch. Like about ten feet close. 

When I looked up, my heart stopped, and I quietly sucked in a breath. Moving very cautiously, I grabbed my phone and computer and quietly went in the house.

"There are skunks in the back yard! One mamma and four or five little babies. They came right up to me!" I was a little freaked out to say the least, as that was the closest I had ever been to a skunk--let alone five of them!

My husband and daughter ran to the back door to see what I was panicking about. We watched them mosey around the backyard and eventually into a drainpipe that runs under our street. 

This weekend I have sat on the porch every night and waited for them to come out. Every once in a while, when the wind was just right, I detected a faint scent. They hadn't sprayed, but I knew they were near.

About 9:00 pm, one by one they crawl out of the hole with their little bushy black and white tails waving in the air and nuzzling the ground searching for bugs to eat.

We live in town, not the country, and skunks are not what we want right outside our back door. But I have to say, those babies are adorable!

We obviously don't want five skunks in the neighborhood, but we do not have a plan yet to remedy this problem.

So, until then, I will continue to sit on my porch and watch them come out and play...from a safe distance, of course!

 Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating a space to share our stories. 

Waiting

I wrote a slice, "What's That Smell," during the March Challenge about a plant I have had since 2008 from the funeral of either my dad or my father-in-law. 

It wasn't doing too well, so I brought it home from school, placed it in a bucket of water, and I waited.

And waited.

After the root system became stronger and to try and save it, I cut all the leaves off and planted the roots deep in the dirt in a new pot. I placed it in the window in my office where the late afternoon sun comes in, and I waited.

And waited some more.

This was one of those situations where I knew I did what I could, and I just hoped for the best! 

I wish you could have seen my joy two months later when I began to see tiny green leaves poke their heads out and begin to unfurl from the dirt. 

Even from the most difficult challenges, new life can begin again if the conditions are right. Somehow this plant reminds me of my students, and I am sure there is a metaphor growing deep in this dirt about teaching. 

But I will wait for that writing muse to find me as I watch this beautiful plant continue to grow.

I am trying the same procedure with another plant that has sat on the corner of my desk since my first year of teaching (18 years ago) and is not doing well. 

And so...I continue to wait.

 Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating a space to share our stories.

A Morning Chuckle

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating this space to share my stories.

Sitting at my dining room table eating breakfast and reading the online edition of the newspaper, I hear screaming. I can tell it is one of the two young neighbor girls, but it isn't a "give me back my toy" scream. Or a "wee this is fun" scream.

It is a scream of terror. 

I jump up and open the door. I listen trying to understand what is going on.

The screaming continues, but all of sudden I hear the mother say, "It's not going to hurt you." 

I peer through the white pines that create a border between our two yards, and I see what is creating the fear.

A chicken.

Last night, our neighbors brought home chickens, and the chicken coop is between our two yards. I saw the girls out talking to the chickens, peering into the "chicken house" and taking a picture of their "first day" with the chickens. All of this mixed in with squeals and giggles.

But morning brought a different scene. I know nothing about chickens, so I am guessing this was the first morning for feeding them and maybe gathering eggs. 

And I don't know who was more afraid:  Violet or the new chicken!

Annotated Playlist

Each month I participate in a writing challenge with my Teach Write writing group. This month we were challenged to write an annotated playlist. 

For me, songs take me back to certain places and time spent with special people. I chose three songs for this challenge although I could have chosen so many more.

My Annotated Playlist

Achy Breaky Heart by Billy Ray Cyrus—Dancing in the kitchen with 6-month old Megan in my arms, my heart was anything but achy or breaky. It was filled with motherhood joy.

Remember When by Alan Jackson—June 12, 2010, I sat in the church with tears streaming down my cheeks as this song played. Aunt Pam’s “remember whens” were cut short at the age of 52. 

You Raise Me Up by Josh Groban—This song marks one of my most significant life decisions. Could I do this at the age of 40? While contemplating the decision, this song came on the radio several times. I knew it was a sign to say yes. Yes, to returning to school to become a teacher.

Marilyn Miner, who is in our group, made a comment about how music can not only take us back but also move us forward. There is so much truth in this statement. Music has such power.

 After participating in the Slice of Life March Challenge by Two Writing Teachers, I am continuing to write my stories with other teacher-writers as we share a slice of life on Tuesdays.

Rumors

Have you ever read something set in a time period that makes you wonder, "Has time really passed?"

I just finished Under the Broken Sky by Mariko Nagai, a novel in verse about two Japanese girls escaping the Soviet Army during World War II. One poem was titled "Rumors." This poem is about how the civilians would hear different stories, or rumors, such as Americans wiped out Japan--no one is alive. The Emperor has been killed, or Japan is now part of America. People were confused and didn't know what was really happening with this war, and they didn't know how long ago the "rumors" they heard had actually happened. They didn't know who to trust.

Here are the last three stanzas in the poem:

"I don't trust anything

anyone says.

It's like on that day

I found out about 

Japan's surrender.

All the things I thought

were true were lies,

and only lies matter

in this world now."

This scene took place in 1945 and all I could think about as I read this poem was how this could describe our world still today. A world bombarded with mistrust and lies.

The only difference is today we get the lies within seconds.

 After participating in the Slice of Life March Challenge by Two Writing Teachers, I am continuing to write my stories with other teacher-writers as we share a slice of life on Tuesdays.

A Good Deed?

Image on Pixabay

Each week when I go to the store, I shake my head and wonder, "How in the world do some people afford to eat these days?" I am flabbergasted at the food prices, and I know how lucky I am because we are a two-income household. I am so grateful for what I have.

I know stores across the country are closing due to the high shrinkage levels. Even Walmart! I have a background in retail management and know many theft prevention practices, yet catching shoplifters is a tricky situation, and employees have to be careful when they believe someone is stealing from them.

While I was at the store on Saturday, I saw a man at the end of the aisle who looked a little suspicious. My retail instinct went into action. As I watched him, I realized that he was placing items in the waistband of his pants and under a bulky jacket. It looked like packages of meat. He dropped a banana, and I saw him stuff it into a pocket.

I immediately found an employee and described the man to her. As he came around a corner, he saw her and turned around and went in the other direction. I went about my business and checked out. As I was putting my groceries in my car, the employee came out, and I asked her about what happened. 

"He saw me watching him, and he dumped the items in the frozen food section. Thanks a lot for letting us know."

I know times are tough, and it is hard for many families to put food on the table. But that doesn't mean stealing is the answer. I live in a small community, and we have so many resources available to help people with food emergencies. 

I left there thinking I had done my good deed for the day. If that is so, then why does a part of me feel so bad now about reporting him?

 After participating in the Slice of Life March Challenge by Two Writing Teachers, I am continuing to write my stories with other teacher-writers as we share a slice of life on Tuesdays.

My First Experience with AI

Something happened this week that completely took me by surprise. I knew it would eventually happen, but I just didn't think it would be so soon.

This past weekend I was grading essays and came across one that was very well written. Too well written. It wasn't 6th grade writing, and it certainly wasn't typical of the work I've seen from this student.

I took my usual next step of putting it through a plagiarism checker. Nothing showed up--100% unique. I tried a few others and received the same results.

Image from Pixabay

I was stumped. 

And then occurred to me...artificial intelligence? Could it be? Could a 6th grader know how to do that? Could I be so naive to think this wouldn't happen in my classroom of 6th graders?

Monday came, and I had the students--yes, I am up to four now--bring me their computers. I searched their history, and sure enough, there it was. Searches and links to AI websites.

Right now, we have no policies in place, but I told my principal, "We better get ready. It's not coming; it's here."

We began testing this week, so I have not addressed it with the students yet, but this was certainly a wake-up call for me.

If you have any experience with students using AI to "cheat" I would love to hear how you and/or your school handled it. I am obviously not prepared!

 After participating in the Slice of Life March Challenge by Two Writing Teachers, I am continuing to write my stories with other teacher-writers as we share a slice of life on Tuesdays.

Small Town Hair

Growing up, leaving my small town was one of the first things I wanted to do when I turned 18. I couldn't wait to "get outta here!"

Little did I know then that I would fall in love with my friend's brother, get married, and move back here. As an adult, I realize now the benefits of living in a small town. 

One of those has to do with my hair.

My stylist, or beautician as we always called her, has been doing my hair for almost 50 years. My mother was one of first clients when she started out. We began going to her when I was about 10 years old, especially when my mom would cut our bangs and they were crooked. She worked around my college years and would do her best to schedule me on my days off when I lived out of town.

Brenda lived through my perm days, my hot rollers and Farrah Fawcett days, my Dorothy Hamill wanna be days and now my gray hair days. She helped me to accept my natural curls and to realize that one day I would appreciate "all this hair." 

She has a little shop in her house and schedules me every four weeks. When she finally retires, I don't know what I am going to do. Fifty years is a long time! 

Yes, only in a small town!

 After participating in the Slice of Life March Challenge by Two Writing Teachers, I am continuing to write my stories with other teacher-writers as we share a slice of life on Tuesdays.

My Teaching Life's Chapter Titles

I have been reading Inkwell:  Simple Writing Practices to Restore Your Soul by Anne Elrod Whitney. She writes and explains how writing practices can be a powerful tool to spiritual self-care. 

Although the book has you write about God's presence in your life, she clearly explains that "this book is for people of any faith, including people of no faith."

I am finding that it really is about self-reflection and looking deeper into the stories that surround us and the stories from which we are made.

One of the writing exercises is to imagine your life as a book with chapters. What would be the chapters be so far and what would be the title of each chapter? Create a table of contents by looking at your life as a series of stories and name the chapter titles.

Since I almost 60, I didn't want to write my life titles (that would be too daunting!). I thought I would try writing titles about my teaching life stories along with a one-sentence summary. These are like mini-slices and have the potential to become full ones.

1. You Mean I Have to Follow a Basal--My first year I taught 5th grade reading with a basal, and my students and I hated every minute of it.
2. The Book Whisperer--I read Donalyn Miller's book and my teaching life was changed forever.
3. All By Myself--I became one of those teachers who didn't do what everyone else did, which can be very lonely at times.
4. Disillusioned by Administration--I found out my principal, whom I respected and loved working for, made some bad decisions that negatively impacted our entire school and eventually was the reason why I left.
5. A New Home--I became a middle school ELA teacher and have never regretted making this move. 
6. You Believe in Me--My new principal was a teacher I worked with my first year of teaching, and he and the assistant principal still support my growth as a teacher.
7. Still Learning--I began presenting at conferences and joined online professional learning communities, and my teaching life changed once again.

Anne writes the next part is the hardest:  What might the next chapters be? And she is right. Being almost 60, I am beginning to wonder where I'm headed in my own teaching life. I still enjoy learning alongside my students and colleagues, but I know a stigma surrounds older teachers, especially in the eyes of students.

I brainstormed a list of next chapters, and these chapters weigh heavily on my mind.

• Do I Still Have It
• Still Lovin' It
• Reading, Writing, and Retirement

This exercise has been a deep reflection, and I want to think about this idea in my personal life. I hope you give it a try and let me know your life's chapter titles.

After participating in the Slice of Life March Challenge by Two Writing Teachers, I am continuing to write my stories with other teacher-writers as we share a slice of life on Tuesdays.

Is Someone Listening? #SOL21

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating this community to share our stories.

He's listening. He's always listening." 

I hear these words in the back of my mind all the time. Who is listening you ask? Well, I don't really know, but it is quite troublesome.

Last week my husband's toe was hurting, and after researching on the Intenet, he seemed to think it was gout. He wrote beets down on our grocery list. (While searching, he also found that beets would help gout!) He then asked, "Do they make beet juice?"

"I have no idea, but I will look," I said to pacify him.

I "searched" at the store and told him, "Nope didn't see any beat juice."

"He's listening. He's always listening."

The next day as I was scrolling through Facebook, guess what came up in my feed. Yep! Beet juice. I never searched for it on my computer, but there it was. This greatly troubles me. Are people listening to my conversations? Can they hear me through my phone or my computer?

My husband did search for it on his computer, so I guess maybe if the search is at least in our house, it could possibly show up on my computer?

But, I still feel like someone is listening.

This is just one of several advertisements
that popped up on my feed.

A Haircut Mishap

It's less than two weeks before the March Slice of Challenge begins. And I think it has been since last March that I sliced. I thought it might be a good time to build up to that writing marathon! Don't you think?

Tonight I read a post about a COVID haircut from Jennifer Larance. She was a brave wife and gave her husband a "real" haircut. I cut my husband's hair about every three weeks, but I use the clippers with a 1/4 inch guard. In other words, it is merely a shaved head.

But that 1/4 inch guard is a very important part.

He sits in the chair down in the basement with an old crib sheet around him like a cape. I complete my first run-through and check to make sure I didn't miss anything. Shaving his neck is my favorite part, so I take the guard off and carefully pull down the sheet to expose his neck.

Buzz...I finish the haircut and place the clippers down. Looking at my wonderful work, I realize I missed a spot on the bottom of his head near the nape of his neck.

"Oops. It looks like I missed a spot back here," I say as I pick the clippers back up.

But that 1/4 inch guard is a very important part.

I click the button up and the buzzing begins. Just as I make a quick stroke up the back of his head, I suck in my breath. What have I done?

"Oh no."

Yes, that 1/4 inch guard is a very important part.

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating this community to share our stories.