A Time for Reflection

Reflection is a big part of my teaching life. I try to show my students the importance of reflection and how we can use that reflection to make changes in our learning, our growing, and our life.

We have two weeks left in our school year, so my students completed a year-end reflection on Friday. The questions range from reflecting on their own reading and writing life to ways I can make our classroom better to what was their favorite book. I use their answers to make adjustments to my own teaching practices and improvements to my classroom library.

As I was reading through their responses this morning, one in particular made me pause. If I had to describe this student, I would say she is rather shy, doesn't talk much, and doesn't like attention, which makes getting to her know a little difficult. It was during our narrative unit back in the fall where I felt like I really met her for the first time.

Her narrative had elements of writing that are difficult to teach, especially to 6th graders. Her vocabulary is well-advanced for her age and her voice shined in this piece. The first words I wrote on her feedback sheet were:

"You are a writer!"

As we continued to write throughout the year, I could see her confidence growing. I could see her standing just a little bit taller when she came to class. I could see her smiling. 

But I didn't realize the full impact until I read her reflection.

In one response she wrote, "I loved her positivism to my writing, which made me feel good about how much effort I put into the essays."

And in another, "I haven't liked writing that much until only last semester, which after first semester and writing a personal narrative essay, I found out of my new passion."

The power of words. A simple statement of acknowledgment that says, "I see you" can make all the difference.

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic

Joys from A to Z #SOSMagic

A flower blossoms for its own joy.

[Oscar Wilde]

An ABC list of my joys. 

all baked goods made from scratch

bubble bath at the end of a long day

cherry pie day - warm of course
Dr. Teals sleep lotion
Ethan - my skateboarder and rocker

Friday night pizza

green - as in kiwi, olive, and shamrock

hot summer days in the pool with my sister

iced tea, freshly brewed on a hot summer day

July 27th celebrating 32 years of marriage

knowing my children are safe and happy

Lincoln High School friends - my EJDs

Megan - my teacher and basketball coach

notebooks filled with words

outrageous collections of pens

porch time on fall evenings

quilts made from scraps

reading my endless pile of books.

sending positive notes home to parents

time with my amazing colleagues

under the blankets on winter nights

very warm fires on very cold days

writing and capturing small moments of my day

x-tra light in my days

yesterdays, where memories are kept

Z-z-z-z (a good night's sleep)

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic

Spring is in the Air #SOSMagic

 

I am not a lover of spring. 

I don't like the unpredictable weather. I don't like the time change. And I don't like my pale skin and pastel colors typically associated with spring.

But I do love the scents of spring. I made a list in my notebook of the scents I associate with spring and this poem is a result.

Spring is in the Air

Spring is in the air

as an April shower

passes through

leaving everything

clean and fresh.

Spring is in the air

as the farmers 

till the sleepy soil and

awaken the

underground life

from its winter's rest.

Spring is in the air

as the lilacs

open and the 

peonies welcome

their tiny houseguests.

Spring is in the air

as the first blades of grass

are meticulously cut

and wild onions

grow with exuberance.

Spring is in the air

as overnight

the world dresses

in its deep, verdant green.

Spring is in the air.

Feel it.

Breathe it.

Become intoxicated

by the scented gifts it brings.

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic

Dandelion Suns #SOSMagic

I am always looking for books that inspire writing. One of the many I have on my shelf is Handling the Truth, On the Writing Memoir by Beth Kephart. As you can see from my picture, I have many pages marked with writing ideas.

In the chapter called "The Color of Life" Kephart asks, "What is the color of life?" Pondering this question and Ruth's prompt on naming my light, turning toward it and writing about how it makes my life beautiful, 

I didn't have to look very far.

Dandelion suns drawn in the corner of the page give a false sense of hope, a hope that everyone has a rectangular house with a door in the center with a circle knob, two four-paned windows, and a red chimney spiraling a trail of smoke. But most people don't know that image is a fallacy that children draw to make them feel normal, to feel like they belong, and to feel loved.

I drew those pictures, and that was far from my reality. It wasn't until many years later that I found my light in the corner, my dandelion sun. 

His name was Dave. 

My family was broken, as was my picture. But God knew what I needed before I did. 

Dandelion suns have a way of making me smile. They reflect the love in my children's eyes; they weave themselves  through the memories of the tough times as well as the good ones; and they light the way for my tomorrows.

Dave is the light in my corner, 

my dandelion sun, 

the color of my life.

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic

Habit Stacking #SOSMagic

Habits. Things one does on a regular basis that require discipline. Discipline is something I do not have. 

A blog post I read this morning mentioned James Clear and the idea of habit stacking. Intrigued, I checked it out and my vision of forming habits completely changed.

In a very simplistic definition, Clear states that in order to build new habits, they need to be paired with a current habit, thus habit stacking. For example eating breakfast or taking a shower are regular habits. I never thought of those as being habits, but it makes sense when you read the article.

The reason why habit stacking is successful is because we have current habits already built into our brains, and we have had them for many years. By stacking a new habit to something we already do, we increase the likelihood of sticking with the new habit.

The article suggests making a list of  things I already do:

eat breakfast
open my computer at school
take a bath
eat dinner with Dave
wash the dishes

go to bed

What new habit could I stack onto one of these?

• While eating breakfast I could write in my notebook or make a to-do list.
• After I open my computer I could read a bible verse or write
• While taking a bath I could read 10 pages.

One of my favorite examples he gave was to place a book on the pillow after making the bed in the morning, stacking the behavior of reading right before bed. BINGO!

See how this is going? It really isn't about discipline at all. It is about connecting a new habit to one I already have.

Now, doesn't that sound easy? I'll let you know how it goes!

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic

Just to See Them Smile

Teaching middle schoolers is always a challenge. Their emotions run high, hormones explode, and day-to-day problems escalate at a rapid pace. Add a pandemic with regular routines constantly changing and top it with mask wearing, and teaching middle schoolers enters a new level.

Last week we had a welcomed change. Our district and our state lifted COVID restrictions. A feeling of relief and excitement was felt, but I was most excited about seeing their smiles.

Smiles are broadcasters. When I can see students' faces, I know who is having a good day. I know who just got braces. I know who enjoys walking down the hall with new friends. I know who enjoyed my class or the other classes in the wing. I know who told a funny joke. I know who has a new crush. I even know who farted. (Remember, it's middle school!)

Students have been hidden behind masks, leaving teachers to decipher what they are thinking and feeling and what is going on with their I-don't-know-how-to-handle-this middle school life.

Yes, it was nice just to see them smile.

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic

The kind of writer...

 

The kind of writer I want to be. This question has been swirling around in my mind since Ruth posted it last week. If I were to be honest, this prompt lead to my thinking about who I write for. "Do I write for myself or do I write for others?"

The answer to this question is directly linked to the kind of writer I want to be.

Writing for myself is a path to discovery of who I am and who I want to become. It's a way to sort through the emotions of living in this big and complicated world. Writing for myself is a way to reflect and solve problems that seem so much bigger than I am. 

I want to be the kind of writer who writes for myself.

Writing for others is a way to share my story. Sometimes, when I read others' words, they are just what I needed. It may be words that cause me to reflect, to learn, to dream, to cry, and to laugh. I want to do the same for others. I love sharing my teaching practices, my literacy life, and my life in my classroom. I never know when I share a story just how much someone else needed to know they are not alone.

I want to be the kind of writer who writes for others.

Today, I read a poem by Fran Haley on her blog, Lit Bits and Pieces. It was inspired by Kobe Bryant's poem, "Dear Basketball". Fran wrote about writing and her life as a writer. The whole poem is beautiful, but these words lingered just a little longer in my heart.

You will outlive me. 
You are my record.
You are what I leave behind.

Let it be the best of me.

So, what kind of writer do I want to be? I want my words to be a record of my life and a discovery for others. I want my words to bring hope, to show love, and to share my story. I want to be the kind of writer that is the best of me whether that is for myself or for others.

Because I don't know if the two can be truly separate.

The Blessing of a Snow Memory

We had our first snow day of the school year this week. My husband took the day off to spend it with my daughter and me. Before the day started its descent, they decided to take a walk.

As they shut the door, I sneaked to the window to watch them. Dad was several steps ahead while Megan fell behind by walking in the drifts.

How did the time slip by so quickly?

They returned in about an hour, stomping the snow off their boots before opening the door. Prior to that I heard them out in the front yard, laughing just like they did 25 years ago.

Where did the time go?

This morning as I made my way to the mailbox, I saw the footprints spelling out her name at the end of the driveway. And I heard the laughter again. 

I pictured that four-year old out with her dad in the first snow of the year,  

her red snow paints swishing as she walked,

her red and navy Land's End coat with the elastic hood that kissed her head and only exposed her almost-frozen bangs,

her feet double-socked and stuffed into her black snow boots stomping her way through the snowdrifts so high that her boots could hardly be seen,

her eyes squinting from the brightness of the snow and staring with complete admiration of the most important man in her four-year old life...

hollering, "Wait for me, Daddy!"

Isn't that the blessing of a snow memory?

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic

The Shape of Words

This week in the #100Daysof Notebooking Facebook page, Cathy Hutter shared this poem from Sean Thomas Dougherty on her notebook page. 

Why Bother?

Because right now there is someone

out there with 

a wound in the exact shape

of your words.

~Sean Thomas Dougherty

It made me wonder if our words could be shapes, what would they be? What would be their purpose? This is my thinking and my hope that our words can heal, bring hope, and offer peace.

The Shape of Words

May my words 
be a circle
to wrap around you

and hold you tight

during those times

you are falling apart,

a squiggly line
to remind you to laugh
on days you want to cry,

an arrow

to gently lead you 

in another direction

when you may have lost your way,

a semicircle

to encourage you 
to open your arms 

and welcome the invitation

to breathe,

to love,
to live.

I offer you my words;

may they be the shape

you need

in this moment

of life.

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic

Fungi is a Popping-Up Word

One of my favorite ways to write poetry is through word play. Several summers ago I learned about a specific word play in poetry though Laura Purdie Salas. There are so many ways to play with words, but this idea is one that has just stayed with me, and one that I love to do with students.

This fall we had a fungi explosion. With so much rain, fungi were popping up overnight. I never knew what I was going to find each day. So much beauty can be found in nature.

And so much mystery, too!

Fungi is a popping-up word

pushing through the pine needles

in the middle of the night

while fairies dance in circles

in the golden moonlight.

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic

A Simple Thank You

Seven years ago, I left the elementary school where I had been an aide and a substitute teacher, and where I began my career as a 4th-grade teacher. It was also where both of my children went to school, so I spent many hours as a volunteer in their classrooms working with students and helping teachers.

I was comfortable there. And there is something to be said about comfort. However, when the opportunity came to teach language arts and to share my passion about reading at the middle school, I knew I had to make that move.

Yesterday, I received an email from a parent of a current student who was one of my colleagues from that school. 

She thanked me. 

The email seemed like a simple thank you. But for me, it was much more than that.

She thanked me for introducing him to new books and creating wonderful experiences for him to learn and grow. 

Changing schools was a difficult decision for me because I was leaving supportive colleagues who had also become friends. 

But her email was the exact reason why I left. 

Instead of showing 25 students each year the joy and power of books, I now share it with 100 (or more) students each year. Reading emails like this one is what keeps me going. Knowing that I have had an impact on a student's reading life brings me joy. 

And isn't finding joy what teaching is all about?

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #SOSmagic

The Missing Washi Tape

I have begun to explore creative journaling where I make the pages of my notebooks into a collage of different materials. I use torn scrapbooking paper, pages from old books, washi tape, printed vintage images from the internet, and stickers. I want to play with stamping next. I am loving it! 

Today was a cleaning day, but I needed to run and get some milk. Since I was out, I took a little detour to run into Hobby Lobby and "just look." I left with a package of "tattered and worn" paper (which I found out was adhesive!) and four roles of washi tape. Yes, just what I needed.

After eating dinner, I ran upstairs to my "office" and pulled out the package of paper. After I opened it and admired the beautiful colors and prints, I opened the bag for the washi tape. I wanted to create some pages to share on the Choice Literacy Instagram page.

But the washi tape was not in the bag. I went down and looked in my purse and in the car, but they were nowhere to be found. I was stumped.

I thought maybe the cashier had forgotten to place the items in my bag, so I decided to call the store. I told them my story, and the employee said yes, there were two packages of washi tape here. Someone found them and brought them inside.

I am so thankful for that customer who was honest and took them back into the store. Not everyone would have done that. It is nice to still see kindness in the world...even if it is just washi tape.

And now back to those pages!

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic

The time when we learn from our students...

 Although I am on Facebook, I am not friends with anyone local or with any family members. My account, with the exception of a couple college friends, is purely professional or teaching related. Whether that is a good decision or bad one, it is mine.

Today a local news page came up in my feed. As I was reading about a fire at a local pizza place, I noticed a former student had commented on it. I admit I was curious about him, so I went to his page and quickly scanned some of his posts. One of them caught my eye because it was a letter addressed to "Teachers who have ever doubted me." 

Of course I had to read it. And it broke my heart.

He said teachers knew him as "the kid who always slept in class or the kid who never turned in homework, and 'the difficult kid who would flip burgers and live on welfare'." (Quoting one of his former teachers.)

He admitted that yes, he was a high school drop out but also a kid who was currently working hard at two jobs. 

His final message was this, "So what I say to you is give everyone a fair chance at life--we all learn different, live different, do different, BECAUSE WE ARE DIFFERENT!"

Signed, the kid who you didn't bother to know.

Ouch! That hurts.

Back in January of 2020, I saw this student and wrote about him in my notebook that night. I share that page below.

Although I am a teacher, some days I do the teaching...and some days I do the learning. 

Today was one of those days.

Note: Quinten's post was public, so I feel it is OK to share here. I shared this notebook page with him on his page. He commented back and told me it made him smile...and few other things that I will keep just between teacher and student!

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic

Mapless Road

 

I am a mapless road,

 

ribboning through the countryside

guiding your turn after turn after turn.

 

Blinded by the late autumn sun

and clouded by your state of confusion,

you query your destination.

Dementia is a difficult thing to live with and even harder for loved ones to accept. We know we are not far from taking the keys. Each day we pray she still finds her way.

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic

The Harvest

This summer 
I walked a stretch of land--
open fields with 
corn planted to the north 
and beans to the south
and a new crop:
pumpkins!

Each day
the plants grew,
leaves reaching 

for the sun,
roots stretching 

deep into the soil,

the soul of the earth.

And I walked

mile after mile

after mile.

We became friends.

Those fields 

welcomed my 
return each day,

even on the hot, humid ones.
They cheered me on
for that extra mile
and stood by me when 

I wanted to quit.
.

And they reminded me 
some day soon
I would reap
what I had sown...

the harvest.

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #SOSmagic

The Dress

Yesterday I went shopping.

And I bought a dress.

For most women, buying a dress probably isn't that big of a deal. For me, it's huge. It has been years since I have bought a dress or even worn one. This moment was an act of bravery.

At the beginning of June, I named this summer "the summer of me". I have worked hard on taking care of myself, eating better, and most importantly, moving. I began walking. Slowly at first and not very far. It was difficult because I had gained pandemic pounds, and I was utterly and completely out of shape.

It wasn't long until I began to see a difference. I was walking farther, faster, and for longer periods of time. Over the past nine weeks, I  have become stronger both physically and mentally, and I have lost some weight. I am not where I want to be, but I feel good.

Back to the dress.

As I was shopping, I rummaged through the racks of new dresses but couldn't find what I was looking for. Being short and carrying extra pounds, I always think I look "frumpy" in dresses. 

We were at the last store of the day, and I had almost given up hope. And then I found another rack of new dresses. I pulled one out, held it up to me, and thought, "Well, it's not down to my ankles, and it's not above my knees. It's black, so I know just the shoes I could wear with it."

After several minutes of walking to and from the rack and telling myself how awful I would look in this dress, I convinced myself to try it on. The dressing room was small, and it was hard to see myself in the mirror. I opened the door and went to took in a larger mirror. I stepped up on my toes and turned to look at the back. "My butt doesn't look too big." Twirling around again, I thought, "This just might work."

I walked to the entrance of the dressing rooms. A few aisles over, I saw my daughter. "Hey, Meg." I put my arms out, turned around for her to see, and raised my shoulders in that "what-do-you-think" pose. She smiled and gave me a thumbs up. I was giddy with excitement.

Yes, I bought a dress!

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #SOSmagic

Summer Flashback

This week was gorgeous for Indiana summer weather. Low humidity, sunny afternoons, and cool evening temperatures. Summer served up just the way I like it.

I spend a lot of time on our porches, my favorite place in my house. One night while writing on the back porch, I could hear our neighbors. Their six-month baby and two-year old were outside enjoying the unusual summer weather too. And then I heard it.

A sound.

A giggle.

A squeal of delight.

A summer flashback...to a time almost 25 years ago. I didn't realize how much I missed it. I didn't realize I would have missed it if it hadn't been for the summer weather and being called outside to write.

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic

The BIG Dance #SOSMagic

I recently came across a poem from the blog Tales of the Old Forest Faeries. If you like magic, fairies, imagination, and poetry, then you might want to check it out. The writing and illustrations are stunning.

I noticed after reading the poem several times that it wasn't so much about dancing, but it was really a metaphor for life - the times when we dance like we have never danced before - the BIG moments!

 
“She Danced.”

And, that very night
She danced,
Like
She had never danced before
Like she knew
She would never
Dance
Like that, again.

Poem written by Athey Thompson

I began thinking about the times "I danced" in my life.  (This is truly metaphorical thinking because I don't dance!) 

My thinking turned back to my parents' divorce and the effects it had on me. I was 20 at the time, and I knew what was going on. At that age, you understand betrayal. You understand the hurt caused by actions. You understand what it means to be part of a "broken family."

When I was 22, I began dating Dave, my husband. I was friends with his sister, but I really didn't remember him growing up. He was four years older than me, so we were never in the same school. When I was in junior high, he was in high school, when I was high school, he was away at college. Our paths only really crossed when he would answer the phone and not his sister my message.

When he entered my life, I knew it was not a coincidence. God knew what I needed before I even did. God handed me a family when my own family was struggling to put the pieces back together. I am forever grateful for His gift.

Next month I will celebrate my 31st anniversary. Thirty-one years ago...I danced like I had never danced before.

And I'm still dancing.

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic

A School Year Reflection #SOSMagic

I finished up my 14th school year last Friday. It was a year like no other, yet it went so much better than what any of imagined. Back in August we were "mantra-ing"--just give us two weeks. We wanted two weeks to introduce ourselves to our new students and establish some sort of relationship before we went virtual, which we just knew was going to happen.

Well, it didn't.

We were face-to-face the entire time (minus 7 days the first of the year plus snow days). Believe it or not, some new due-to-COVID practices we actually found out we liked and will continue next year. These include later and staggered start times, clear backpacks, and one-way hallways.

I am looking forward to summer so that I can reflect, relax, and rejuvenate. And I do not feel bad for wanting those things. This year took its toll on everyone, and there is no room for guilt.

I went in to school yesterday to pack up the rest of my room for summer cleaning. Although the room looks very similar, I am in awe of it’s contrast to last year.

Last year I had a time limit to get in and get out;

this year I lingered with my thoughts and memories.

Last year was full of sadness and fear of the unknown;

this year was full of hope and excitement about what all we accomplished.

Last year was void of goodbyes;

this year was full of pictures and hugs and fun memories.

Last year I walked out with tears;

this year I walked out with a smile!

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #SOSmagic

Remember and Embrace #SOSMagic

It's 10:30 Tuesday morning of the last week of school. It is my prep period, so I have no students and my 70s rock playing on my Pandora station.

Students are beginning the first phase of locker clean-out, and the sound of giggles and lockers shutting echoes their way down the hall and into my room. 

I smile and remember...

    ...the final writing in their notebooks,

    ...the end-of-the-year activities,

    ...the stolen moments of going outside,

    ...the surprising discovery of a missing book,

    ...the awards,

    ...the year-end video,

    ...the smiles and laughter,

    ...the anticipation of summer, 

    ...the hugs goodbye.

I remember what all we missed last May. I smile and open my arms and my heart to embrace these next three days.

I’m joining an open community of writers over at Sharing Our Stories: Magic in a Blog. If you write (or want to write) just for the magic of it, consider this your invitation to join us. #sosmagic