#SOL20 Day 23: Weight of the World

This slice is part 1 of I’m not sure how many. I know my protagonist has some things to figure out, and I need time with her to decide what that’s going to be. But I’m especially grateful to Fran Haley at lit bits and pieces for providing me with the inspiration to get going in this direction. Thank you!

Her alarm buzzed her awake at 5:10, as it did every weekday. It was tough to shut it off, what with reaching around the giant sack laid on top of her, but she was able to manage. She knew that she’d probably sleep better without that thing – heck, she’d probably breathe better, too – but there was something about the weight of it that felt secure, kept her rooted to herself.

Her burden made a deep thunk as she rolled it off the bed and onto the bedroom floor. She examined its contents to make sure everything was still in order.
Obligation? Check.
Expectation? Check.
Guilt? Shame? Disappointment? Check, check, check.

Hoisting it over her shoulder, she began to go about her day. She had never directly weighed the world, but it was probably comparable to what was in this bag.

She started her way down the street, stooped under the heft of it all. No one really noticed her dragging along, but then again, she didn’t expect them to. Few ever really did. Every so often, someone would say something to her. It would often go like,

“Wow. You really have a lot to carry there. How do you do it?”
“I don’t know,” she’d shrug. “I just do.”

Or perhaps:

“You’re carrying so much. Let me know how I can help you. Just ask.”
“OK,” she’d respond, perfectly aware that asking was not within her skill set.

No. Most times, carrying it quietly was the easiest thing for all involved.

#SOL20 Day 22: Story's Return

(continuation from SOL day 3)

Snow in March:
Of course, she laughed
As she gazed out over the –

“HEY! What do you think you’re doing?”

She felt her ears redden, felt all of her body weight condense and harden into a ball at the pit of her stomach, felt her face prickle.

She did not need to look up to determine the source of that voice. She raised her head but stopped short of full-on eye contact. “Oh. Hey. Story. You again.”

“Yeah. ME again.” Story pressed on. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

The writer sat, silent. I’ve been in trouble enough times to smell a rhetorical question when it comes my way.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Another one. Best stay quiet and safe.

“Listen. You signed yourself up for a story challenge. A STORY challenge. I tried being gentle with you before. But what on earth do you think you’re doing messing around with the poetry and personal narrative, huh?”

Someone should probably tell Story that poetry and journal both convey narrative, not to mention craft, and that Story should know that better than anybody else. Someone other than me.

“Answer me!”

“Well…I…um…” she stuttered.

“Why haven’t you been writing fiction, as you challenged yourself to do?” Story was in full swing, hands on hips, foot tapping, head cocked to the left in just that way. “Why aren’t you keeping that promise to yourself?”

“Well, see, the thing is this,” she stammered. “It’s been a really hard month, and it’s been everything I could do to keep my head above water and take care of myself, and I’ve kind of just been proud of myself for sticking with writing at ALL, and – ”

“You know what they say about excuses, right?”

“That everyone’s got one and they all stink?”

“Hey!” Story snapped. “Who asked you to mouth off to me?”

Dang it. Another hypothetical, she thought. Got to get better at that. The writer’s eyes brimmed.

“Listen.” Story’s tone softened. “I’m just saying you owe it to yourself to try a little more fiction. To keep that promise to yourself. To stretch yourself a little. You do deserve that, don’t you?”

The writer sighed, then nodded. Like a popsicle, she knew when she’d been licked.

#SOL20, Day 21: Teen Parenting, Exhibit Q

Yes, it it true that I like a picked-up house. Yes, it is true that clutter produces within me an actual physical response.

Yet.

Nothing, I repeat, NOTHING breaks the resolve of a mother determined to leave that box from Tuesday night’s 1 am pizza order on the table until a certain 16-year-old decides he’s going to pick it up his own dang self.

Note the clean table, the freshly vacuumed rug

It can be there until next month. I don’t care.

I will work around it.

I will clean around it.

I will ignore it happily.

Because THAT is the stuff that motherhood is made of.

#SOL20 Day 20: Does Anyone Else Feel

Does anyone else feel, she wondered,

Like a washcloth wrung within an inch of its life?

Like a running shoe, its insole black with sweat and impact?

Like the sponge that’s done one too many hand-washings?

Like that garbage bag after someone stuffed that one. Last. Thing. In?

Like the couch cushion, enduring flop after flop after flop?

Like that last scrap of soap melting into the soap dish?

Like a teabag on its third steep?

Like a pencil nub that deeply yearns for a sharpening?

Like a joke that tanked its punch line?

Like the hot-water heater after everyone has showered?

…

No?…

Ah well, she thought, as she straightened up, squared her shoulders, and geared herself up for the next day.

#SOL20 Day 19: Shades of Silence

She sad amid the silence, and between the breath and stillness around her, she realized

That there are so very many shades of silence:

The tight, cold waiting to see what that noise in the night was,

The prickle-eared awareness of what children are up to on the opposite end of the house,

The sudden release and escape from sound after turning the car engine off, the one you didn’t realize how much you needed,

The anxious elongation of time-thread that pulls between you and the answer to that Very Important Question,

Or this:

A silence that comes as just

plain

quiet.

#SOL20 Day 18: What Today Has Brought

My district has gone to day 2 of e-learning, and I challenged my kids this morning to post more of themselves and how they were doing. And they did NOT disappoint.

My students post the sweetest pep talks I’ve ever seen. They’ve shared playtimes with their dogs, ideas for group story activities, forts they’ve built in their living rooms, DIY beach parties, homemade memes, silly skits, random jokes, heartfelt expressions and plain old check-ins.

As I watch and interact with all of these beautiful pieces of themselves my kids have put out into the world, my heart overflows. And yes, tomorrow’s pep talk will be a celebration of that beauty. I plan on acknowledging how wonderful my kids are, and then challenging them to the next step:

Responding to one another’s work.

Right now, my loveys are all engaging in a delightful round of parallel play, sharing moments of love and excitement and brilliance. Now I want them to recognize that within each other.

As for me, I will continue plugging through my day. It’s a mix of:
-hovering over email and other platforms to monitor and encourage my students as they learn
-stopping to do 5 push-ups at every chance as part of my gym’s at-home challenge (I’m up to 205. I’ve got this!)
-threading together data for my grad school final project which somehow, magically, will come together despite the fact that I can’t be in the same room with my kiddos
-checking in with friends and family members
-trying not to step on my dog

What else am I looking forward to after quitting time?
-more push-ups
-Wine Wednesday with my college son (we’re trying out a new tradition)
-finding a good use for the butter I’ve set on the counter in prep for baking

And you? What are the small victories you’re finding on these tricky, tricky days? What pep talks would YOU share?

#SOL20 Day 17: To My Loveys

note: I’ve decided to begin each day with a “pep talk” to my kids. I had a different video shot for tomorrow, but this is the one I’m now deciding to go with…

Hi Friends!

We’ve made it past the first part of our e-learning experience. You’ve all logged in, logged on, and you’ve started to complete the assignments you’ve been given.

You’ve crafted story maps for hero’s journeys. You’ve told me what it’s like to move from place to place. You’ve shared your special cozy places for writing. You’ve done some research on Shakespeare and his Globe Theater. You’ve done some writing.

All that is so very nice.

Now. Here’s what I really want from you.

Start talking to each other. Think of your OWN pep talk you’d like to share. Add some comments or thoughts to give feedback to your classmates. Share words of encouragement, or share what worries you right now, or share what’s happening in your days.

Because, my friends, we need each other. I see the way you interact with one another in class. I see the way you joke around with one another, the way you push each other in conversation, the way you validate one another and make each other feel like YES, being smart is a GOOD thing. That we can get super excited about learning and that’s okay. That we can rattle on with silly jokes or science theories or philosophical debates and no one will bat an eye.

Because that’s what we do for each other. And that’s what I don’t want you to miss out on.

So post your thoughts, your ideas, your wishes, your silliness, your encouragement so that we can keep the wonderful community we’ve all grown to love.

Now make like a manicurist and nail it!

#SOL20 Day 16: Not that I’m a Perfectionist

…but I have spent way too many hours combing through and over all of the e-learning resources that I’m posting for my groups.

I want for their experience to be smooth.

I want for them to understand what I’m asking them to do.

I want them to DO it.

And, most importantly, I hope that what I offer allows my loveys to maintain their connection to our class community. I hope that they will see that I miss the PANTS off of them. I hope that they will see that their well-being is, as always, my primary concern.

And now, after fiddling and revising and tweaking and adjusting and checking and rechecking and nitpicking, I am going to release myself from this task. All systems GO.

Ah, who am I kidding? Tomorrow morning I’ll spend another half an hour going through the exact same check…

#SOL20 Day 15: On Uncertainty

She sat, fingers poised above the keyboard, wanting to write – but before the words would come, she had to gather her thoughts from far reaches,

And as she began to funnel words in, out, through, it occurred to her what a risk it was to begin to write:

To face an empty space, a blank future, without of sense of where things were really going or how, knowing that it could turn out well, or turn out poorly, and thinking that she had some control over it all but really, how much,

And it occurred to her that, perhaps, this musing might be metaphor for all things dark and scary,

And that perhaps she should take a deep breath, dive down and spend time exploring those blue-black waters,

But she decided that particular thought would be better served if it were once again tucked back in the drawer for another, more ready, day.

#SOL20 Day 14: The Dog Days of…March?

I love standing in the school hallways at arrival and dismissal time. It’s like a barometer that gives me readings of a different kind of atmosphere.

Yesterday, as the bell rang for our half day early dismissal, the kiddos were released from classes, backpacks full of materials, heads full of instructions. Some even stopped to give me a big fat hug. The mood around me was…inexplicably…summer.

I can’t explain it. Maybe it was the warm weather we’ve been having. Maybe it was anticipation of a week of at-home learning before our spring break. Maybe – and this is my guess – it was the sense that we might be looking at an even longer time away and nobody really knows what that will look like.

We stand face-to-face, staring into the wide-open yawn of time. These days at home are going to feel really long, and even more uncertain. And just like with summer, it is upon us to fill our days well, to bring the sense of structure and predictability that keeps us from breaking loose from our moorings.

None of this truly hit me until today, when I noticed that despite having to report for professional collaboration time on Monday, I had shifted into summer mode. Which, for me, translates into expressing insanely productive energy around the house because I am physically unable to downshift once school ends. In the hours since I have been home, I:

*Cleaned out the playroom
*Set up a home office for myself
*Organized all extra food and supplies onto shelving
*Cooked dinner for my family
*Arranged and began assembling a give-away pile
*Wiped down all kitchen surfaces, switches and door knobs
*Did 3 loads of laundry
*Cleaned out my closet and drawers
*Caught up on school work
*Called my mother (always!)
*Rearranged the living room furniture
*Ordered and assembled materials for at-home workouts
*Inventoried and organized the fridge and freezer

Yes. I have a problem. I can’t help myself. I’m a wind-up toy that just has to run down before I can let things be. My entire family knows that the best thing they can do during the first two weeks of summer is to just. Stay. Out. Of. My. Way.

The trick to being a wind-up toy, of course, is running down without becoming run down. I’m always trying to find that balance.

In the meantime, I’ll be over here organizing files and activities for my students. Or cleaning the oven. Or scrubbing the floors. Or or or…