A space to write

This is my last post of this wonderful challenge. I have deeply enjoyed writing everyday, and reading the writing of others. This experience has taught me the value of everyday practice, and of small but positive feedback - two great strategies I can bring with new authenticity into my teaching.   My first post was about my new pottery class - my empty-nester hobby that I used as a metaphor for this writing process.  The parallels work well: both take practice, practice, practice;both take patience; both reveal an art form that seems to have its own voice, independent of the artist - the clay and the word have their own power; both can bring beauty; both can bring disaster; and both painfully reveal the shortcomings of the artist.  My vain assumption was that by the end of the month my writing would have become markedly better and my pottery would have as well. On this last day however, I find that I have grown, but not as much as I had hoped.  I'm still ...

Wow!  So sorry.  so late. So much going on.  So busy. No different from all the rest of you. I am determined to keep this up, but so hard.  Today was full.  Family, friends, canvassing, eating, community, breaking bread with those I love. Love the pink lanterns and jowls.  We are old and hold each other's jowls up:) And how beautiful they are. Love my sister.  Soul sister. So fun, to spend time and know only the things she knows. she made me coffee, I made her a cup. Purdue may beat VA - Wow! OMG  OT!  All even Hello sis

Voice to text is a wonderful thing.  It allows you to speak freely and it records all of your thoughts, and then you can go back and edit later.  Maybe:) I am dictating this as I’m sitting waiting for my son at Union Station.  Next, we are off to National Airport to pick up my sister. She’s coming in from Atlanta to help campaign for my daughter this weekend. It has been a long full day, and a long full week.  And, this weekend will be no reprieve.    I started thinking about this because my daughter used voice-to-text to compose a speech she gave last night.  She was able to write a concise and persuasive speech in under 20 minutes. I'm going to show it to my students. I often try to have them voice-to-text, but they feel self-conscious.  I need to keep trying.  When I asked her when she started doing this to write, she laughed.  "I got this from you, mom." "Really?" "Yeah, you know the super long text messages you send me?...

So on day seven I wrote about my delight in an orchid I had successfully coaxed into reblooming.  It has continued to delight throughout the month, and is now full of blooms.  On this long slog we have until Spring Break - we don't get off for ANOTHER two weeks, I am fueling myself with nature - and she has been kind.  The daffodils peak up, forsythia sends out spiky yellow stems amidst barren shrubs, tulip trees offer up pink cups to the rain, and the cherry blossoms are bursting with snow. This afternoon I was able to squeeze in some weeding and amending of my vegetable patch.  Care and tending, hoping to reap what I sow. 

Classes cancelled today and forever. No notice. Closed. Out of money. Very sorry. I am crushed. My favorite exercise studio (sorry, do I sound like a cliche?) has just emailed announcing they are closing. Effectively immediately.  I am bereft. Truly. This place was a lifeline for me.  A great community, with great teachers. It had a profound impact on my life. A million questions go through my mind, like what will I do now? Stop it, you're being selfish -  What will happen to all these great teachers?  Have they charged me for April yet? Stop it you're being selfish.  Wait, no not really. You earn a teacher's salary, this matters. Now I will have to search for a new community, establish a new routine.  I have to find where these teachers are going. This must really suck for them, way more than for me.  Speaking of teachers having to make new plans, our school is not closing, but downsizing. It has been overcrowded, and now with a new middle scho...

The end of third quarter is around the corner, and already I see the end of the year hurrying near.  Wait a minute please and hear my plea: I need more time... Time to write for myself, my students and to my friends. Time to read for myself for pleasure and for work and for my students. Time to go to the movies, and take in a museum. Time to talk to my husband, my family and friends. Time to take leisurely walks with the dog. Time to cook and to clean. Time to campaign for my daughter and give her advice (though she is probably grateful I don't have time to do that:) Time to talk to people, ask them how they are doing, show an interest, kindle a friendship. Time to travel and time travel. Time to think and to ponder - to stretch and to wander I push and I stretch my time, trying to convince myself this finite day is infinite.  I shift and steal time, create more in the folds and the creases. I need more time to make time. 

It's late and I'm wrapping up my day and in he slides through my classroom door like Kramer. "Hey there! Just wanted to come check out the 'ol stomping grounds." He looks almost the same as a year ago, only five inches taller.  "I was just thinking about you!" I cry.  "I was going through old oratorical speeches and videos and pulled yours out!" "Oh, no!  You didn't show it did you?!" "I was thinking about it..." just to tease him.  He wore a fedora for his speech performance, made full use of the stage with theatrics, and truly ad libbed his way through most of it. It was awesome. The whole class was in stitches. Despite, or more likely because of his unconventionality, I put him through to the final round. Not surprisingly he was deemed a little too "out there" for the county judges.  It didn't matter - he had a blast and we all made a lasting memory - and now he's back and he remembers it vividl...

Almost every Sunday I catch up with my mom.  I am so grateful she is still around, even though she is over 600 miles away.  Many of my friends are beginning to lose their parents.  I lost my dad five years ago, but my mom, at 80 is still sharp and active.  As a teenageer, I am ashamed to say, I was not very fond of my mother.  As an adult, I now I have a deep admiration - I only hope my own daughter's follow the same arc:) We spend the first bit talking about the schism in the Methodist church - this occupies a lot of her Sunday's lately then it's on to an update of each child, my husband, my school work, my in-laws.  My mother-in-law has recently moved to a "memory care" facility.  My mother chimes in, "Linda (a family friend who also suffers from dementia) has just started taking CBD oil, and it really seems to be helping her bouts of anger."  Linda, like many dementia patients, as well as my mother-in-law, suffers from angry outbursts when sh...

The winds have died down, the sun is out.  I just bought flowers for the first time in a while - I shouldn't have waited so long. Sun streams through the front storm glass door and my old frail cat basks in it, trying to clean himself.  His hair is long and easily matted, and it's hard for him to keep it untangled.  He getting old- 98 in cat years. He has a thyroid problem, and is on medication.  My mom laughs at this, she says, "I have a thyroid problem too, it's what happens when you get old."  He's feisty though, and constantly begs for attention, and meows for food - his thyroid issue means he's hungry all the time - all day long, so much so that I begin to lose sympathy. The meowing can drive me crazy.  He rubs up against my dog, the edge of the door, the banister- he's so insistent, and bold - I admire his tenacity and pluck - he still has such personality for an old dude. Now he is in my lap, jealous of the keyboard, trying to push my fingers...

"A personal note" is how the email reads - she's confiding in me - what she lets go of is heartbreaking.  The story is told, and I hear that she has decided not to report the incident, out of fear perhaps, or of not wanting to cause any more hurt. I'm not sure. But, now that she has told me, and it has happened at my school, I carry the burden.  I have to say something, but how?  She trusts me; I don't want to violate that trust. I lose sleep, ask advice from my husband, roll my responding email over and over in my head.  "Don't rush into a response," I tell myself.  "Think on this, and act in the morning when your head is clearer."  I listen to myself, thank goodness. This morning I walk in and I know I have to say something, but this could go very wrong.  People could get worked up, I could get stuck in the middle. I have to make a partner in this.  I walk down do the head counselor's office, luckily she's free,"Can I ask f...

Have you ever tried typing with a fine dusting of salt on your hands?   I bet you have. The afternoon munchies have set in and I have a craving to crunch. Chewing and typing, preparing for tomorrow, reflecting on today, trying to feed the beast within.  I can hold it together until about 4 o'clock and then my better natures leave the building. I am cranky, I am hungry, I am tired.  I should go home but there is too much to do.   Popcorn it is - maybe I can masticate the demons away - I pull open another bag and munch on.  

"So...I know you can't talk to me about the test, but just give me a thumbs up, sideways or down.  How do you feel about it?  (I hope I'm not getting myself in trouble here...) Most give me a thumbs up. " Whew!" This is the grammar portion of the writing SOL, the one that asks the bedeviling comma, and pesky pronoun agreement questions. We review intensely for this for a week, but I try to work in these lessons in all year long. However, grammar is a tough nut, and as much as I try to incorporate it into my reading and writing lessons - it always feels like a different beast.  And, it's a beast I'm glad to put in my rearview - though - I know - I know - I will still teach grammar even though students are no longer tested on it:) For the next few weeks though we have a reprieve - we are back to reading, and talking about books and I feel like I can breath again, and so do the kids.

The email ping chimes into my thoughts.  I try to resist my Pavlovian response - "focus" "grade" "ignore the distractions"  "I should really figure out how to put that thing on silent." After a few minutes I cave and flip over to the email window. And, instead of one of a million things it could be, it is, to my delight, a comment on one of my slices.  So kind, so thoughtful.  Such a simple gesture that means so much.  I am taken aback my how much these little comments mean to me.  I didn't think I needed that.  I still don't.  But it turns out it can really make my day.  Thank you!  to my tiny band of commenters.  You have taught me the value of this for not only myself, but for my students in their writing. 

Morning Duty Ah the smell of the cafeteria on a Monday morning. The sickly smell of sour milk, wet cardboard, and some sort of cleaning product, overwhelm me as I walk down the stairs. I'm on morning duty. Twice a year we rotate keeping an eye on students in the morning before they are released at the first bell.  You'd be surprised how just the extra 20 minutes in the morning really messes my morning routine - I seriously have to plan ahead for these weeks.  We are supposed to help keep the kids under control - the cell phones and the ear buds seem to be doing a pretty good job of that.  I wish I could get them to read.... They all cluster together in friend groups, earbuds in - the latest status symbol are the Apple wireless ones - they are really expensive.  It stuns me that so many of them have them. As I watch them chatting and relaxing before the beginning of the day, it occurs to me that the six adults down here watching like prison guards is a bi...

In honor of St. Patrick's Day a reflection on my grandfather - Walter "Ted" Clark Leary. Ted grew up on a large farm on the Eastern Shore of North Carolina.  He was one of fourteen children.  His father had seven children with his first wife, and seven with his second. When Ted was three his father died and as his mother had her hands full with the farm, and given the fact that he was the baby, he managed to get in a good bit of fishing and reading. At fifteen he was sent off to boarding school, and from there he went to NC State, and having a knack for math and fixing things, he decided on a degree in Engineering.  He also walked onto the wrestling team, which he loved but it led to cauliflower ear and partial deafness in one ear. He was short, but strong - you could never knock him off his feet.  When he graduated, he sold his share of the farm and moved to Charlotte and there met and married my grandmother, Mildred McCraven.  He was a faithful husban...

 A bright and beautiful late spring afternoon turns blustery as the sun begins its journey west.  Leaves swirl, dust flies into my eyes, hair and hat blow asunder. A chill permeates the warmth of the sun.  I lower my head and press on. Grading, cleaning, organizing, food shopping, bank, gas, veterinarian, check. Head down, stick with it. Write my responses, clean my mud tools for tomorrow, answer emails, straighten. Listen to my husband recount his day, offer support.  Head down; stick with it. Child home with broken phone = broken life.  Get it swapped with an old one, merge contacts, change passwords, jump through a million hoops.  Head down; stick with it. It's mid-March and the head winds are strong...

Today we have more testing, the bell schedule is different, the kids are confused. A persistent state for most 8th graders. My homeroom is a small group of mostly second language students.  I am supposed to help them with their reading, but they are overwhelmed by classwork and homework. So instead, I help one with a French project, the other with her pronoun usage, the other with his math practice. My gentle, silent one hides under his hood and needs to be nudged into work.  It's a careful coaxing - I cannot to push too hard or he will shut down.  He gives me a small smile and pulls out his work - huge victory for me! They are all so very different and all have so many different needs.  I haven't mentioned the one with debilitating anxiety and the other with a home and social life that distracts her so badly she can barely get any work done.  They are painfully, poignantly sweet and vulnerable. Today is coming up on St. Patrick's Day, and one of my peers c...

There's a wonderful Girl Scout song I always remember this time of year. I am so grateful for my experience at Girl Scout camp - I made friends, learned new skills, learned how to be on my own, and felt a wonderful kinship with a group of girls that was nothing short of magical. Though it was a thousand years ago, I still vividly remember my summers there. And it was there I learned a song that has informed my personal philosophy for a lifetime: The refrain that plays in my head on warm days like today goes something like this: "I know a place where the sun shines like gold, and the cherry blooms blossom in spring, and underneath is the loveliest place where the four-leaf clovers grow. But you must have faith and you must have hope - you must love and be strong and so - if you watch - if you wait -- you will find the place where the four leaf clovers grow." My students are beginning to write a speech for our annual oratorical contest.  The prompt is written by...

Sitting and waiting in a coffee bar in Rosslyn...  I have never been here before, and I love the vibe.  A young crowd, meeting after work for coffee and wine: keeping the teeth whitening folks in business. I’m here to witness an extraordinary moment. My oldest has decided to run for public office and the party committee has designated this as the spot to collect signatures.  This coffee bar is in the district and it’s neutral.  I find that very odd, but I’m keeping my mouth shut.   At approximately 7:30 it will be a done deal.  I’m here early and waiting. My daughter's campaign manager has arrived. My daughter is in New York for work (yes, this position would be part time), and her flight has been delayed because of the Boeing crash. The grounding of the planes has thrown everyone's travel into a vortex, and she's in the middle of that swirl, and not just a little beside herself.  So, I have ask if I can come. Because I have a mother's anxiety th...

Driving home last night I spotted a lonely heap of outdated brass fixtures sitting by the side of the road and had to laugh. (I even stopped to take this picture, because now I think of stories in everything I do.) That exact chandelier lives under the sink in my basement.  I am saving it for some reason.  It used to be that every home had this particular brass, Williamsburg-style light fixture.  No more.  Very passe.  Everything is brush nickel, pewter, various shades of gray.  I wonder what this says about these times. Brass may have lost some of its luster, but does it deserve to go out on the curb? What do we save?  What do we throw away?  What do we repurpose? I could paint this chandelier with some funky chalk paint.  It has nice lines. I pull the fixture from its nonsensical hiding place and examine it.  The wires are still intact.  The brass is a little cheap, so it won't polish very well. These same assessments I ma...

Monday morning blues So the sun was still down this morning, when I had just gotten used to having a bit of daylight. Through bleary eyes I struggle to put the contacts in. Sun is finally up and my morning routine accomplished:  pack lunch, make tea, feed animals, walk animals: yes the cats come on walks with me and the dog, pack up my work bag and off. A shroud of quiet lays over me, as I walk in the building. I fumble with my keys. A few moments of quiet and focus. First bell rings and student chatter begins to fill the halls:  "It's really early..."  " It's too early, Ms. Merlene!"  "I'm very tired - I just walked into the desk!"  "Oh! look at your outfit - that's so cute!"  "I had four soccer games this weekend!" Their chirpiness reminds me of the birds out my window - I'm slowly getting back in the groove.

March 10 An homage to Auden “Lament to a lost hour” Turn forward the clocks, chop the hour off at 2, Prevent the dog from sleeping with his early meal, Silence the snores and with yawning wake Hop in the shower, let the steam slowly slake. Let husband sleep, tossing and turn Sheets tangled and swirled seem to say: “the Hour is Gone.” Set each ticking clock in the house to new time. Let the birds sing me awake and the sun warmly shine. Spring is my Time, my Warm, my New and Best, My planting time and my sunshine rest, The snow days, the slosh, the dirty and muddy dog; It felt like winter would last forever: I was wrong. The snow is not wanted now; rain slow your pace. Pack up the scarves, hot chocolate and marshmallows back in your place, Rake the last of the leaves, clear the way for new growth. The daylight stays longer now: Spring is here. Sunday is for silliness and so I took something pretty terrific and turned it into a trifle.  P...

My father was a distinguished salt and pepper by age 43, and a beautiful snowy white by 55. My first grey hairs began to appear during college, and all through my late twenties were scarce enough to simply be a badge of honor:  in number they could easily align with all my trials and tribulations. However, by my thirties it became another thing altogether. Now, I must face the unfortunate fact that, every three to four weeks, I relinquish way too much time to this vanity project. Growing out will be an ugly prospect. Cut it short - get it over with quickly. "Grey hair is sexy," my husband says. My hairdresser says, "Not now - you are too young." She gets nothing out of this by the way, I cannot afford to pay her to color, only cut. Would my students think of me as the "old" teacher? Do they already notice my grey roots?  Of course, they must. So am I living a lie, or just making a necessary accommodation for the ageism that exists? After much ...

  March 8 “Kleenex and peppermints” Let me begin by saying that the majority, close to 95%, of my parent teacher conference are an exercise in self-congratulations. “Isn’t SamSusie doing beautifully?” “ Her writing is lovely.” “ His projects are so creative.” “ She gets along very well with her peers.” “ His reading comprehension and complex questioning are impressive.” “No, I don’t think there is any more you could do at home to help support us here at school.” “You would like me to send home extra work, so they can improve their grammar skills? Great! will do.” “Thank you so much for all you do already.” “Summer school? No no need for summer school.” “A summer enrichment program at a writing school? Here are a few suggestions…” Most of the conferences go this way; it is the other 5% stay with me. Kleenex and peppermints. Kleenex for those who get a little weepy when they talk about how much they love their children and how concerned they are. Pepp...

March 7 “Blooming” “Blooming” Behind my desk sits a long brown HVAC unit. It whirs and hums and keeps things just a little too cool or a little too hot.  Because it is so long and sits right underneath a window, it is a perfect place for plants. I love having plants in my room - it improves the air quality and it’s just good karma to take care of living things and to have them thrive. The window is large and dirty - I have cleaned it a million times, but the dirt is on the outside and I can’t get it off - it drives me crazy, but I try not to let it bother me too much.  My window faces south and looks over the school field and into a line of trees beyond. Sun, cloud, snow and rain, can all be observed from this perch. I love having a window in my room. Even now, as I am typing, the late afternoon sun is warming my back. The plants that I keep at school always do well - better in fact, than the ones I keep at home.  If I have a plant that’s looking a lit...

“The earring” My son has been home for two minutes and I notice a glint behind his ear, just a small sparkle as he turns.  “You got an earring!” I say….”Yeah,” he smiles sheepishly. “You like it? I can always take it out…” “I love it!” I say.   “What?” my husband pipes in from across the kitchen, “you got an earring?”  My husband has picked my son up from the bus station, taken him to dinner and now come home, and he has not noticed. “The girls really like it,” my son replies.  Ha! and Hmm... I think. When I was his age and in the place I grew up, a man with an earring in his left ear was wearing a silent signal that he was gay.   Hmm... Later, my middle one sees it and offers, “Cool dude, looks good.  You know the thing is, the diamond they give you when they pierce is kinda tacky.  You should were a black one.” “Oh, yeah,” he says, “a girl friend told me the same thing.”  Ha! I think. And Hmm. My oldest daugh...

Copy Copy “Do you hear me?” I am blessed to work in a county that is fairly affluent, but like a lot of affluent people, they are always spending a bit more than they should, and that leads to penny pinching in strange places. Today for instance, as on many days, there are issues with the copiers.  I have avoided a lot of the drama that has occurred throughout the year surrounding making copies,  because I now do a lot of things on line. But today, I’m copying prompts and outline organizers so my students can practice the writing process for the essay portion of the SOL.  The toner is streaking terribly - no one can read it. I move to one downstairs (we only have two in the entire building for over a hundred teachers). The toner’s bad here too, but readable - I make do.   Toner seems to be the issue today- toner is very expensive I hear, and gets put on an allowance. We only get so many toner cartridges a year. We never have enough.  That and stapl...

March 4 95 at Night Driving down 95 in the dark, and the sleet, and the driving rain is a lot like Russian roulette. The line between safe and not is razor thin, and largely up to chance. How many bullets does a handgun hold?  Six, seven? If I google this it will show up in my browser history, and someone might think I have bad intentions.  So no googling, let’s say seven. One: I cannot see the lines, the road splits for construction with no warning. I veer to the right, am I off the road, have I taken an exit? I struggle to keep the wheel straight with the change in pavement, the narrowness of the lanes, the cones on the right, and a solid concrete barrier on the left.  One small jerk of the wheel and I am into that barrier. Two: I’m in the middle lane going the speed limit, 65. The rain begins to turn to sleet, so I began to slow down. The cars in front of me slow down too.  I think of moving over to the left to avoid having to break, when w...

March 3 “Sole mate” There is a basket in my basement that holds the single socks of lost mates.   I have never been able to figure out the black hole of socks, and so I gave up searching years ago - too much wasted time. I also am loath to waste a perfectly good sock, hence the basket.   My children now joke about this basket.  My middle daughter uses it when she comes home, because she always forgets to bring socks, and the idea of wearing mis-mates appeals to her.  The cats often sleep in it. I think they like it too. I starting thinking about this as I was doing my son’s laundry today. He comes home from college with a plastic tub full of laundry.  I am proud that he knows how to sort and start his laundry. However, he is not so good at folding. I, on the other hand, have come to look at folding laundry as a form of meditation, so I gladly help.   We have purchased the 12 packs of black and white Nike socks ...