Courage Doesn't Always Roar: A Teacher's Quest to Be Better Each Day

Goodbye to you, March Challenge. Goodbye early morning wake-ups, adjusting workout routines (or skipping them) to make more time for blogging. Goodbye trying to find the words and delicately balancing what my heart needs to write and what my brain thinks I should publish. Goodbye to you, fellow bloggers. Your stories touched my heart. Your words made me think. Your passion for teaching inspired me to be better. I'm sorry I didn't get to read more, comment more, but what I read was glorious. Our country will be saved by teachers like you, I'm sure of it.  We will meet again,  on Tuesdays. And we will meet again, when next March comes.  Till then... "Who can say if I've been changed for the better? Because I knew you, because I knew you, I have been changed for good." -from "Wicked"

How is it almost April? Time seems to have stopped somewhere in mid-January when our lives changed with a phone call. While I was just starting to come up for air, a second surgery dominated the Winter Break. A month has gone by, and now we are closing out March.  Spring. Today is Good Friday. As a Catholic, although a somewhat lapsed one, today is the day where evil seems to win. A dark day, a sad day. A day where a friend betrays you and hope dies. The beauty of Easter Sunday is that hope never dies, that evil never wins, that good triumphs and redemption is possible.  I need Easter more than ever this year. I am tired of the greedy and selfish dominating the headlines. I am tried of school shooters. I am tired of Russia and collusion and doctor's appointments and guilt and sadness and fear and worry and wishing with everything in my heart that I could redo a certain day in January.  I have been trying to be strong and most days I am. I know many have more...

I always advise my student writers, "Show- don't tell." So I could tell you about my mother, but maybe this example will show you what you need to know. On a particular day last year, I drove to my parent's house to pick up my children after work. My mom comes to my house every morning by 7:15 to help get the kids ready for school. Later, she picks up Megan at preschool and an hour later picks up Alex from his school. She watches them until I get home from work, which some days is later than I should.  I walked in to find Megan wearing a tissue paper hula skirt, twirling around. But what's more, all of the many dolls she brought, including her stuffed animal dog Star, were sporting the same mini-versions of the pink tissue paper hula skirts. My mom was wearing her reading glasses, deep in the work of creating another hula skirt for another doll. It was a scene I will never forget. What can you infer about my mom from this example? Would you conclude she is...

Last night's Facebook wishes reminded me of a Slice I could write! It was my friend Linda's birthday and on her wall I posted:"Happy Birthday to the Co-President of the Shiny Time Cleaning Club".  In elementary school, Linda and I were best friends. We would often have play dates at each other's houses, where we would play Uno and "bet" with Skittles, play school, plan holiday concerts (another post for sure!) and work on our business- The Shiny Time Cleaning Club.  We had a real receipt pad for this business and we served as Co-Presidents. The Shiny Time Cleaning Club would do chores for money. Laundry folding was fifty cents. Unloading the dishwasher was 25 cents. Everything was quite reasonable and we felt very grown-up and business-like doing these chores.  What I wouldn't given now to pay someone to do my laundry, dishes and more each day! Maybe it's time to tell my children about the Shiny Time Cleaning Club and see if they want to ...

I've made it to March 27th before needing to write the "I am stuck" post. The "I am blank this morning but I showed up and got it done" post. I've sat here, writing and deleting, looking around the room for inspiration, looking into my heart for what to say. Some words are not meant for publishing right now. What else feels worthy to write about?  The clock ticks and takes me closer to the time I need to shower and begin the day. A work bag filled was barely opened. Fluency cards I thought I'd hole punch and put on rings remain exactly where they were when I dropped them on the floor yesterday afternoon. So. Much. To. Do. Never. Enough. Time.  Breathe.  Type. I'll be looking for inspiration today so tomorrow I'll have a story to tell. Have you easily found topics for posts or found yourself stuck too? 

Growing up, I didn't even know what the Internet was until the end of high school. My childhood and teenage years were all pre-Facebook and social media. In my mid-twenties, I joined Facebook and now use social media regularly. It just seems natural to post photos of my celebrations and funny things my kids say and do.  However, I do know that Facebook posts often just showcase the shiny, clean part of one's reality. A person's life is nuanced and, as the saying goes, into every life a little rain must fall. We all have our pain and challenges, though you might not know it by scrolling through Facebook. One hashtag really annoys me. #Blessed. It just feels so arrogant to me. As if God has selected you out of everyone to make your life pain-free and joyful. As if those who have sick children, crummy spouses, addiction, debt, diseases, and more are not in the #Blessed club. (Sucks for them!) I'm all for gratitude. I'm all for appreciating the happy things in y...

Today my Grandma would be 92. She passed away at 89, just 3 months before her 90th birthday. Having a Grandma as a constant, loving, joyful presence in my life for over 35 years is one of the most precious gifts I've ever been given.  Grandma and Grandy's house was like a second home growing up. I can close my eyes and see every part of it. I can remember being in the kitchen while Grandma cooked and sipping a cup of tea together in the dining room with always a sweet treat to accompany it. I remember the den upstairs, where she would sit in her cozy rocker and I would often lay on the couch and fall asleep after a long day of teaching. In my single, child-free days, Grandma and I had a Wednesday dinner standing date. I would show up and she would cook for me! We would watch Seinfeld reruns, or Rachael Ray's 30 Minute Meals, and game shows like Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. I remember the porch, where we would sit and watch the cars passing by.  Grandma was there for...

A trip to Target New pocketbook and sunglasses My soul is restored.   My red pocketbook was jaunty and hopeful in September. My red pocketbook took me through the holidays. My red pocketbook accompanied me during scary and uncertain times. My red pocketbook carried file folder of medical papers and held books and toys to entertain my son while we waiting for procedures. My red pocketbook led me from one season of my life to another.  I'm ready to put my red pocketbook away. Today I bought a new pocketbook with spring flowers. Time to look towards the sunshine.  (I bought sunglasses too, because it's going to be sunshiney from here on out. Got it, Life?) 

When I was younger,  I never knew my reading level. Didn't know there were books I wasn't allowed to read. I loved to read and so I did every chance I got.  I would peruse the library An open invitation to choose  anything I wanted. Books were my friends And each one  a possibility. I found series books. Cam Jansen, Ramona, Polk Street School , Bunnicula. Then later Sweet Valley High Babysitters Club The Fabulous Five. I read all the time. No one asked me to jot on a post-it. No one asked me to summarize  in my notebook. No one asked me to pick a book at my level. Somehow, someway, I still understood the books I read enough to want to keep reading.  In school we read whole class novels I hated. Where the Red Fern Grows. Island of the Blue Dolphins Books I did not enjoy. "When can I go back to my own book?" I thought. The school books were always sad And my books made me happy. I didn't want to rea...

Two unexpected snow days, despite the calendar saying Spring has arrived. Two days lost of my spring break, now down to only 3 days instead of the 7 we were supposed to have.  Really, I could be negative about this. But sipping a hot, delicious cup of coffee in cozy sweats as mounds of snow pile up outside my window, I am grateful for a relaxed morning. Grateful my mom doesn't have to shovel and drive in this weather, just to come and help me get my kids off to school. I'm grateful they have the day off too- we could play games together, snuggle, and enjoy the gift of an unexpected snow day. When negative thoughts, fears, and anxiety weigh me down, the only thing that lifts the sadness is gratitude. Seeing the blessings. Noticing the silver lining to the clouds, the rose that is there through the thicket of thorns.  So cheers to this snow day- may it be the last of this year! 

"To hold a pen is to be at war." -Voltaire  Every morning, a quote appears in my inbox through the magic of IFTTT, which I still don't fully understand. I love quotes, and so I enjoy reading a new one each day. Yesterday morning Voltaire's quote came, on what was the first day of spring. Interesting choice. And now I try to process it. Does the quote mean that you are at war with yourself when you hold a pen- fighting to decide what to say and how? Slaying the demons known as Writer's Block?  Does he instead mean that the pen is your weapon against the battles you choose to fight- maybe injustice? The pen is your defense of those who don't understand you or aim to hurt you?  In my third grade classroom, we have a Chief Inspiration Officer (CIO) as one of our jobs. This person selects a quote to share with the class. We used to write them on a picture frame glitterboard, but after a few crashes with glass strewn in the classroom, I've s...

Last week, I texted my sister a frantic SOS. My son's class is celebrating the 120th Day of School (first graders have moved on from the 100th Day of School- that's SOOO kindergarten!) and each child was asked to make a creation with 120 objects to wear to school that day. We first got notice of this long before March, which would give us more than enough time to complete it. However, life has been....busy, to say the least. So March 20th was rapidly approaching and I had no idea how to make a shirt with 120 things on it.  My nephew is in third grade, so this is not my sister's first rodeo. She had tons of ideas on what Alex could wear for the 120th Day. I begged her to make it for me and I would owe her big. She came up with an adorable Ninja t-shirt.  When I went to pick this up at her house, she had a huge poster board on the floor for my nephew's latest school project- an Olympics theme visual. He already had a huge travel brochure project (Hello- 1985 cal...

"I don't think leprechauns ALWAYS come to people's houses," I try to convince my children on the car ride to play at their Grandma's house. "No, they do. They leave you chocolate coins. And sometimes they make mischief," Alex informs me, quite certain.  I'm filled with dread. It is already St. Patrick's Day. If a leprechaun was supposed to come, it probably should have been this morning. The kids had talked about making traps, but we watched Ferdinand on Friday and we went right to bed when it ended. No traps set out. No thoughts of a leprechaun coming to visit. I really thought we dodged the whole issue.  But now they are sure he will come tonight. And so I add an errand to my list- stop at CVS and pick up chocolate coins for the kids.  Fast forward to Sunday morning- I'm finishing my blog post. There was a nagging feeling that I had an idea yesterday of what I would write about, but I could not remember, so I went with questions ...

A few summers ago, I read the book A Handful of Stars with some other amazing educators online. Our goal was to write about our reading and share the different ways we did it. I remember the awesome sketchnotes and the different charts and pictures teachers created to show understanding. Writing about reading didn't feel like a chore and seeing other teacher's ideas made the book more powerful.  I haven't been able to transfer this experience to my classroom.  This is my 4th year teaching third grade but I still don't have a clear idea of what my student reading notebooks should look like. There is an expectation from my district that each book a student reads will be somehow written about in the reading notebook. Colleagues and friends I talk to who teach elsewhere say they find that stifling and would hate to write about every book they read.  It makes me wonder: Is the notebook a place of accountability, where a teacher can make sure a student is reading what...

Friday is often "Family Movie Night" in our house. We have a "smart TV" which includes Amazon right on it. Most of the time, we select a new movie to buy to add to our Amazon library of movies. We are building quite a collection. I always encourage my children to watch one of our purchases again, but they always seem to want a new movie. It's way cheaper and more convenient that actually leaving the house to go to the movie theater, and by Friday, I'm usually fine with spending the money to have some snuggly couch time with my 7 year old and 5 year old.  Last night, Alex chose Ferdinand , a movie based on the story of the flower-loving, peaceful bull. Near the beginning of the movie, there is a part where the young Ferdinand is trying to protect a little red flower that he found. The other bulls don't understand his peaceful ways and pick on him. One bull angrily stomps on the red flower, crushing it. Right at that moment, my son's eyes filled wi...

 My neighbor is moving. I will be so sad to see her go. When we moved into our house in 2009, her husband Al was alive and well. They welcomed us, showed us tricks about our house that they've learned from their house. When I locked myself out before we even moved in, they let me come into their kitchen and wait for the second set of keys to be brought to me.  Norma bakes cookies for us, especially when my husband shovels her driveway in the snow. She remembers everyone's birthday with cards and little gifts for the kids. She used to sit on the front lawn with Al around sunset, watching the cars drive by and the kids play, her sipping wine while he drank a beer.  Al passed away in 2015 and Norma is looking for a smaller place, a one floor home. She will probably be leaving by April. She's been cleaning out her house and offering us different items she finds.  I will miss her smile and quiet kindness. I know the move will be good for her, but it's another chap...

As I type this, in just a few hours, my little girl turns 5. After laying with her until she fell asleep, I crept downstairs to wrap her presents. One present was the book Dear Girl by Amy Krouse Rosenthal and her daughter, Paris. (Such a beautiful book- a must buy for a special girl in your life.) Here is my birthday letter to my own dear girl, Megan: Dear Megan, When you were younger, and trying to understand the words "son" and "daughter", I told you that you were my daughter and your brother, Alex, was my son. You replied  that you were my "son-shine". And really, that is the truth- as much as you are my daughter, you are also my sunshine. Light in dark times. A warm, snuggly hug. Radiant. The center of my world.  From the start, you've surprised me. You've been a miracle to me in every way possible. You are funny and bubbly and so quick. You use words like "duplicate" in everyday conversation. You know all the Pokemon cha...

It's Pi Day! 3.14. While I am not a huge lover of things mathematical, I've enjoyed celebrating Pi Day in the past with my students by writing Piku. Piku is a type of poetry that is like haiku. Instead of the lines being 5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables, they are 3 syllables, 1 syllable, 4 syllables.  Here is my Piku for today: Dark morning Still I am blogging Report cards strewn across table So much time to complete each one Due Monday so Weekend consumed Have you tried Piku? Happy Pi Day! 

Happiness. In the movie Trolls , Poppy tells the Bergens that happiness isn't something that you get externally- it comes from within. You find it inside yourself.  Growing up, I wanted everyone to be happy. I hated when there was any discord. If my parents were arguing, I would speak to each separately to get them to see the other person's perspective or to make some concessions.  Isn't it the ultimate irony, then, that I find myself in a situation where no matter what I do, there is a person in my life who is never happy with me. No explaining, cajoling, reasoning bends this person.  It's a painful place to be, to have a person deeply rooted in your life, finding you to be so displeasing in every way you wish to be pleasing.  When I was younger, I read a book called If Life is a Game, These are the Rules by Cherie Carter Scott.  The idea is that life will keep presenting you with the same lessons over and over until you learn what you are supposed...

The room is pitch black. The covers are snuggly and warm. My eyes feel so heavy. Snooze has been hit twice and now it's decision time: Do I get up to workout or stay asleep? There are so many decisions to make, all the time. When it comes to health and fitness, for me, this is the area that takes the hit- I'm tired of making decisions, so I'll grab what looks good, my comfort foods, the nearby chocolate. The regret always comes after.  A Facebook friend has recently been shedding weight at a very fast pace. Her posts about fitting into her jeans again after only 3 weeks had me intrigued. A private message revealed she's doing a program that involves 2 meals a day as a bar or a shake. The weight is pouring off her and she's not exercising yet. The program is very expensive- $400 for the first month, then something like $250 each month you are buying shakes and bars.  It was tempting. To not make decisions- to just have a shake or bar ready for me. To have wei...

Haiku Birthday girl turns 5 Nails, toes, baking cupcakes too Another party! 

5 am I don't need to get up this early today. But here I am, awake, with an idea on how to better organize my classroom and put together math centers. For the last 4 years, each student in the class has been assigned a math toolkit by number. If your class number was 6, you would take the clear plastic shoebox labeled 6 and all your math tools would be in there: base ten blocks, tiles, plastic clock, etc. So I have 24 or more of these in the front of the classroom. But here's the thing- we really don't use them. If we need a tool, it's mostly in small group and I just grab them from any bin and then try to remember where to put them back. I'm thinking it would make more sense to have the baggies of all the base ten blocks in one large bin, the baggies of all the tiles in another large bin, etc. Students can still find the tool they need when they need it (they never seem to take tools to solve problems) but it wouldn't be all individualized. This would fre...

Blogging packets? Check. Projector? Check. Speakers? Check. Chromebook? Check. Various plugs? Check. Excitement? Check, check, check! Today I am attending the Spring LILAC Literacy Conference, sponsored by the Nassau Reading Council and the Long Island Language Arts Council. Kylene Beers is the Keynote Speaker in the morning! I will be presenting a workshop on Fostering Voice Through Blogging with my friend and Long Island Writing Project colleague, Evelyn.  I've become more comfortable presenting mostly because I push myself to do it often. Also, because I believe so much in the notion that blogging gives students a voice, an audience, a purpose- and it's fun! I would love to help teacher see the possibilities of blogging and how it can enhance what they do. Presenting on a topic I believe in and put into practice in my classroom seems a little less scary.  I'm looking forward to attending workshops, listening to the keynotes, talking with other educators, and...

My daughter Megan turns 5 a week from today. Her birthday party theme is "My Little Pony" and the ponies have become her favorite toys lately. A couple of weeks ago, she was talking with my mom about the pony Trixie. She wanted Trixie to have a spell book. My mom suggested they write to the toy company Hasbro who makes My Little Pony. Megan dictated the letter and my mom wrote it. They mailed it, along with a picture Megan drew. Yesterday in the mail, this arrived: No toys or coupons with it, but still fun to get mail addressed to "Miss Megan Sokolowski" and she loved that the "management team" would consider her idea to make a spell book for Trixie.  Before Megan has turned 5, she understand that writing is a powerful tool for expressing your opinion and trying to make changes. To be able to express your ideas well in writing is a critical tool in life. 

I stood in the middle of the room, taking in the scene around me. My third graders, all 24 of them, were all busy at work on their individual projects. Cutting. gluing, measuring, bending, tinkering, sketching. No one asked to go to the bathroom or get a drink. No one arguing. No one looking bored. We were in the Innovation Lab, something new my district has tried this year. It's a large space with cool furniture- rolling chairs in neon orange and green; a separate meeting area with comfy cushion seats, couches, and a large interactive smartboard (but the new sleeker, flat ones...do they have a name?); large wooden bookshelves to house all the projects the students create; shelves filled with pipe cleaners, straws, paper towel rolls, markers, glue, crayons, felt and more. There is a glassed in area with a green screen, too.  The Innovation Lab is run by the librarian and the enrichment teacher...and me when I'm in the room with my class. The idea is to let the kids engage...

4:30 am Most people asleep cozy under covers dreams underway silence in the house. My alarm goes off and I scurry to shut it off not to wake anyone this is my time. When the work  overwhelms but you can't  keep your eyes open at 8:30 pm, 4:30 am becomes your friend. Electronics hum birds still asleep white noise and click clack of keyboard as I type. Something accomplished  while others still snooze not a bad way to start a new day. 

"I don't care," he looks at me, defiantly, his face like stone. I want him to shower, he doesn't want to stop playing. He's played all day and hasn't showered in....at least a few days. He is due for sure but won't budge.  Eventually...a compromise is reached: He will shower and then get more time to play on the computer.  But now I'm thinking about the "I don't cares"- the times I act like something can't hurt me when really it does. The times I tell myself "It doesn't matter", "I didn't want it anyway" or "It doesn't hurt me anymore."  Lies.  Why is it so hard to admit that some things are painful, even if we wish they weren't? Some experiences, some words, some losses just hurt a lot. I'm thinking I need to be more honest with myself sometimes and stop brushing off painful moments with the "I don't cares." Not caring may seem like a shield for pain, but ...

I used to have a few television shows I regularly watched. For a long time I was into reality shows like American Idol, The Bachelor, and  Dancing with the Stars. Some of my other favorites included  Modern Family, In the Middle , and I especially loved the makeover show What Not to Wear . Through the years, I've stopped watching TV. Last year, everyone was talking about This is Us  and mid-season, I decided to watch the first few episodes on demand. I was entirely hooked and once again found a show I loved.  This winter, I've fallen behind in watching This is Us.  It's been a rough season in my own life. I missed the Superbowl episode, THE episode that everyone was talking about. I found out what happened, but only tonight had the chance to watch it myself and the episode right after. I'm still a couple behind.  I love so many things about the show, but mostly how different threads of stories come together, how time zooms backwards and forwards and ...