Here we are at day 9 of the Slice of Life Challenge! Today had me thinking: you know, even though it seems corny for stories to have the weather reflect moods in characters, I have to admit that sometimes…well, sometimes the weather gets it right.
Oh!, perhaps, she pondered, upon seeing the weather outside as it rained, snowed, threatened to grow bleaker and bleaker, the environment darkening, reflecting an accurate likeness of the heart’s atmospheric conditions, perhaps I can only hope this is not a metaphor for a sad state of affairs, but merely a good omen– just a harbinger that might bear with it the promise of a snow day
Photo-based slices seem to be my pace lately. But I’m still Slicing, still sharing, still enjoying.
The last day or two brought their fair share of enjoyment. Among the things I have to celebrate:
Second- and third-grade students coaching each other on their stories. Three Bears Coaching is my ace in the hole!
My annual batch of hamantaschen, gifted out to many of my favorite people and distributed in the teacher’s lounge because if anyone needs baked goods right now, it’s probably my colleagues!
My newest additions to the classroom: SQUISHMALLOWS. I let various students name them. Introducing, from right to left: Pickles, Cornelius, and Finn-eas. I don’t think I could have gotten any more clever!
Fourth-graders partnering up to revise their writing. I’m not giving anything away quite yet, but I’m super excited by this one!
Here we are at Day 5 of the Slice of Life Challenge. I saw this particular type of post from a fellow Slicer, and try as I might can’t find the original post that inspired me. If that’s you, leave a comment and I’ll be sure to edit my post to give you “props.” But I thought it was a fun spin on a bio.
I can’t be the only one who… …peels bananas from the bottom up. …times her library visits by when the tote bag gets too full …looks at the sky whenever she goes out ….thinks the best part of a pedicure is the massage chair …routinely pep-talks herself through the day: “Okay.” “All right.” …still puts emoticons in her texts, even though she knows darn well the emoji keyboard is right there …is not above eating peanut butter off a spoon …sees baking as a viable form of therapy …can’t sit still on a telephone call …prefers windows to AC just about any day …finds solace in a dinner of scrambled eggs with cheese …doesn’t actually mind the sound of cicadas each summer …has inherited her father’s love for and facility with punning …doesn’t get people sometimes …just likes picking up big things and putting them down again …can visualize TODAY as the day she’ll be her best, amazing self (until she gets out of bed) …wonders why the other drivers on the road have to be there, or why she has to drive behind them …needs a nap and time with a dog …always thinks of the best thing to say three days after she’s written a thing
Looking out the window and realizing I’m level with the pine tree tops, bristles and cones swaying in the early-March winds
The gentle sleeping-almost-snoring of a mama who just needs some solid rest
Hugs of a kid-man-kid who’s returned home, if only for a short while
Comfy shoes that make my heart happy to look at
A perfectly fresh bagel, with just the right schmear of cream cheese and a slice or two of lox, brought to me by a man who I love more than I could possibly have words for
A legion of strong, smart, brave women standing, at the ready, to be my feet, my mind, my heart whenever mine falter
Headphones that run out of “juice” mid-walk, reminding me to hear the red-winged blackbirds staking out their springtime territory
Dogs who come to the door when I return home, world-weary and ready to offer a sincere “good girl” and a well-placed butt rub
A sunset-border-of-night-sky that pokes through the parking garage, grabs me by the collar, and forces me to take a look
Moments. of. silence.
Thanks, as always, to the Slice of Life community for keeping me writing every day this month.
Day 3 of the Slice of Life Challenge. And folks, I guess they don’t call this month MARCH for no reason. Get up, get moving, KEEP moving, lather, rinse, repeat. Because, as many of you know, Life likes to work that way.
So I’ll leave you with a couple of images from my latest walk: SIGNS of SPRING. I hope you find them as delightful and fortifying as I did.
Whoo! Day two of the Slice of Life Challenge. Stick with me on this one. I promise this post has some fun in store.
When you have a group of squirrelly fourth-graders on a beautiful spring day,
And you have them for two full hours’ worth of literacy studio,
And you know that some of them have the wormies and squirmies and the like,
And you know that a movement break is more than called for,
And you reach into your improv game bag-o-tricks,
And you pull out a fun one called “Yes, let’s!”
And you tell the kids to start walking around until someone shouts a crazy suggestion,
And you tell them the proper response is to shout “Yes, let’s!” and then begin doing that thing,
And it so happens that all eighteen of you wind up on the floor crawling like babies,
And your evaluator comes in, unbeknownst to you, for an informal observation, do you freak out, apologize, and pretend nothing happened? Or do you thank the universe for its impeccable timing, dust your knees, herd everyone back to their spots and return to business as usual?
Those of you who know me can probably guess that 1) I have no pride, so 2) I figured it was a pretty accurate snapshot of how things go.
Of course, the subversive rabble-rouser in me maybe wished she had caught the conga line:
Throw our dignity over our shoulder and let ‘er rip? Yes, let’s! Thanks to Kim K., my indomitable partner in crime, plan-time buddy and taker of this photo.
Hooray for the Slice of Life Challenge! This is year 4 for me – which is pretty tough to believe. I’m maybe a little proud of myself for sticking with it. Now…this is a year where life is a little…googly-eyed, shall we say. So, I’m not confident I’ll make it every day. I’ll sure give it a shot, though!
Today in class, I taught my fourth-graders about forced association: the act of putting together concepts or objects that have NO BUSINESS being connected.
Today’s prompt: How is a teacher like a fishing pole?
Usually, I get the standard array of blank stares and concrete responses (“ummm…they’re both kind of tall…?”).
Not this year. This year, the kids walked in ready for abstract. They came in ready to conquer CLEVER. And they did not disappoint. I’ll let their work speak for itself.
(and let’s face it…sometimes they get away…)
Hopefully they take it!
“Teachers having better ideas or not so good ones.” Yep, these kids know me. I’ve got great ideas…AND I’ve got klunkers. They’ve seen ’em both.
Tell me that’s not perceptive for a ten-year-old.
Standards-based fishing…?
If I know more about the fish I’m catchin’, I’ll probably catch more of ’em!
My contribution to the party, inserted later on when some of my kiddos were paying attention, and some of ’em…not so much…
This one…it went DEEP, literally and figuratively. I wasn’t expecting the conversation to go HERE, but WOW.
Each year, I have my students craft forced association poems, where they pull together a poem that’s written about one thing…but it’s really about another.
We start by thinking of places or things (usually in nature) important to us: that one lilac bush, the park we love to play at, a favorite tree. Then, we think of the people important to us.
The title of the poem is the person we’re thinking about, but nothing in the poem mentions them – an invitation to our readers to make the leap into metaphor.
Whenever I sit down to craft in this fashion, I’m continually amazed by my train of thought. I start to list ideas, and then BOOM! I’m surprised by a new insight that’s made itself clear to me. It’s also fun to watch the kids in their prewriting phase as they do the same.
“The tree is almost to big for it” – I wonder if this lovey sees the power in that phrase…
“If I didn’t have it…I would be lonely”
Here’s my contribution for the day.
My Boys
The irises in my yard were gifted to me, bulbs planted years ago without a plan: a vague arrangement plopped into earth with a trowel, some water, and hope.
Ever since, they’ve spread across the garden, rhizomes rooting, stretching, leaves messy and full. I don’t know whether to be bothered by the chaos or grateful for the bounty.
Late in spring, after crocuses and forsythia and hyacinth and lilac and peony, I wait…wait…wait… And when I’m not paying attention, (it’s always when I’m not looking) the iris will bloom: showy, stunning, emerging with too-big heads that need support to stay stable and upright.
I’m lucky. I’ve got plants a girl can take care of – not fussy ones demanding weeding and pruning and oversight and piddling with. No, give me greenery that finds its own way, survives the rough stuff, returns year after year through its own strength.
I love teaching units more than once. I get do-overs! Each year, my kids teach me more about how they learn, how best to reach them. And lucky me, I don’t even have to wait until the following year! Working at two schools, with two sets of kids, I get two tries for each lesson.
I observe, make notes, and iterate for next time. Was my lesson a “klunker?” I’ll apologize to my kids and try again. Did we take a detour that turned out great? Better believe I’ll include it, for real, next time.
Today was round one of guiding my kids through a poetry project. We used Margaret Wise Brown’s The Important Book and let our work go from there. I’m not going to lie. My fourth-graders came up with some pretty insightful stuff!
Here’s what I wrote alongside them:
The important thing about cars is that they move. They are big, and fast, and sometimes noisy, And when we’re not paying attention We find ourselves in the wrong places, And they carry us And our luggage, They play host To our meals And our car-radio concerts And our fights And our road-trip memories, And they give us room for THOSE talks, The kind Best had with Eyes on the road, Hands on the wheel, Closeness made bearable Through the space of open road. But the important thing about cars is that they move.
There I was, waiting for my students. We had thirty minutes for our Friday lesson, down to twenty-five after a long-running assembly. Down to twenty so kids could prepare for a half-day early dismissal.
Not much time.
Still, I wanted the lesson to be a reflection on their allegorical picture book reading. I thought through ways we might review the work different groups had done: class discussion? Rotate around with conversation at each poster? With fifteen kids already hyped up from an assembly and antsy for an early bell, I wasn’t so sure those talks would go smoothly. (Why hello, Understatement. How have you been?)
Cue the silent conversation. It’s one of my very, very favorite strategies. Basically, there are posters / prompts all around the room. Kids each get a pen and they circulate, writing responses, questions and comments. We visit and revisit posters, creating and responding to others’ thoughts as we see fit. Only rule? No talking at all. Every shared word comes out through our writing utensils. (Psst…got some quieter kids? This one is GREAT for folks who have a tough time getting words in edgewise. It also forces more verbal kiddos to consider and reflect before responding…)
I hadn’t done silent conversations, really, since before COVID. And boy oh boy did I miss them! These kids had never done them with me, and their energy and enthusiasm was through the roof! By the end of our time together, they were disappointed they couldn’t spend longer, and eager for the next time we could engage together.
But don’t take my word for it. I’ll let their thoughtful, insightful work speak for themselves:
Kids adding their two centsFrom The Wretched Stone by Chris Van Allsburg. Is *any* amount of tech ok? Some differing views…From Mem Fox’s Feathers and Fools. Reflecting on the connection between fear of differences and hatred.From Dr. Seuss’s The Lorax*. How perceptive to see things from the Onceler’s perspective. That seed…that last little vestige of hope…Sometimes, you have kids who are aware of history and how it plays into so very much. Just like these kiddos who read Dr. Seuss’s Yertle the Turtle.A kid and I got into a back-and-forth conversation as we “talked” about Seuss’s The Sneetches. What a cool opportunity!
*Yes, I know that Dr. Seuss can be…somewhat problematic. Don’t worry. We’ll be having a conversation about what we do when an author or artist we love comes with…a little extra to think about…
Soapbox: The Way I see Things 