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

"I'm right behind you," almost 5 year old Megan laughs, right on my tail, so to speak. She's wearing pink ballet pajamas that she wore to school today to celebrate the 100th Day of School (and P week too).  Everywhere I walk, she stays right behind me, giggling, calling out, "I'm right behind you. Wherever you go, I go."  We make a few trips around the house like this and I stop to hug her.  At night, she tells me she loves me "To infinity and beyond." Her love is complete and restorative. I write this now, so when she is a teenager, or maybe even a tween, and she hates me and thinks I'm all wrong and would rather be with everyone but me, I'll remember the time when she was so little, so cute, and gleefully followed me everywhere I went. 

Lately I've been hearing myself say some of the expressions my Grandy (grandfather) often said. "Basta Finito", "Bunk!", "Don't look back." The "Don't Look Back" was kind of his trademark- he said it so often. As a kid, I didn't really understand why you wouldn't look back and as a young adult, I thought looking back was something you should do- reflection and all that.  Now as an older young adult (okay not young- just an adult), I see my Grandy's words as a life preserver from the guilt that comes when something happens I wish hadn't. A car I backed into (should have been looking back for that one). A playdate that resulted in disaster and a near tragedy. Too much chocolate consumed. A lesson gone awry. Mistakes made or the wrong path taken. Grandy would say, "Don't look back" and now I know why.  Life is full of dark and light, ups and downs, joy and pain. It is the choices we make that comprise ...

The first day of the March SOLSC feels like the first day of school! Now that I've done the challenge for a few years, it reminds me of returning to school when you've been a student there for a while- you look for the familiar faces, happy to be back together after a long break. There are always new friends to be made, so welcome to all the New Slicers among us! My very first post in my first March SOLSC was a Where I'm From poem , inspired by George Ella Lyon. The other day, I stumbled upon Elizabeth Steinglass blog, where she had written a poem entitled "Why I'm Here" for Poetry Friday. It seemed like the perfect way to begin the challenge, so here is my own version.  Why I'm Here  (As a mom) I'm here to find the missing stuffed animal flavor of the day, often stuffed in couch cushions or left in plain sight. I'm here to pour juice into sippy cups and type in the code to the computer. I'm here to read bedtime stories and an...

"Painful as it may be, a significant emotional event can be the catalyst for choosing a direction that serves us- and those around us- more effectively. Look for the learning." -Louisa May Alcott When something bad happens to someone you love, life stops for a while. When it clicks back, everyone has emotions and opinions, feelings and fears. It all swirls, much like a tornado, leaving your emotional landscape ravaged. There are those I know who are angry, who throw blame, who talk about vindication and who wish misery on others. It's pain upon pain.  Martin Luther King Jr. said, "I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear." And so, love is always the answer. Gratitude, light, kindness, love. Walking through the pain but not adding to the pain. Seeing the blessings, acknowledging that there are lessons here.  I'm going to look for the learning. 

"There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm." -Willa Cather         When my son Alex was born, the cord was wrapped around his neck. Alarms sounded and doctors rushed into the room. They whisked him to another corner of the room as I asked, in confusion, "Why isn't he crying?" The nurse who assisted me during the delivery reassured me he was fine, just "stunned."  Then, they let me hold him.         The moment Alex was placed in my arms, and I looked into his little perfect face, it was as if I had known him all my life. This baby I had been praying for, dreaming about and worrying about for months and months was here and somehow it was like I've always known him. It was a moment like no other.        Because of his rough start, he had to spend a few days in the NICU, being monitored. He was a very hearty baby among many babies who were premature. The night he was born, t...

He tells me I'm the "cariest" because when he was hurt,  I cared for him. Then he tells me how  he waited so long for me wishing I would get there that awful day he was hurt. I told him I raced. From the moment the phone rang. Rushed to be with him. (I didn't tell him I chanted "Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive"  the whole way there.) I tell him that when I parked A policeman told me to move my car because an ambulance was coming. I yelled, "But that's my son in there!" And had to move my car. I told him that when I parked the car near all the snow, piled up by the road, I ran- and I never run. For him, I ran. For him, I do all the things  I think I cannot. 

The storm has found me. For so long, I have sailed in relatively calm seas. A wave here or there would rock my ship a bit, but just a little. It always righted. I've sailed on, always fearful of the day the storm would come, the storm that would knock my breath away and turn my life upside down. I'd watch my fellow sailors brave storms in their lives with a mixture of guilt and gratitude. Why did I escape the pounding rain, the driving wind, the punishing waves, when others faced unimaginable storms? So my storm came a few weeks ago with the unexpected ring of a phone. An ambulance ride. A hospital stay. Doctors appointments. Life altered.  And my crew is still with me, and so that is the most incredible blessing. And kindness has flowed our way, with grace and prayers and presents and dinners. And beautiful cards have been sent to us and stand in our window. And cheerful balloons stand guard in our dining room.  And I'm looking ahead to rainbows and I'm wishi...

December wears sparkles and shimmers, Deep red lips, sequins and crushed velvet. She throws her head back in laughter as she parties all month long. Her laugh like the jingle of a bell.  She drinks too much. Eats too much,  Spends too much.  December throws caution to the wind, lives in the moment, celebrates everything. December's older, more responsible sister, is January. January wears beige and gray, and often black. She wakes up every morning to exercise And counts every calorie. Nary a donut passes by January's lips.  January thinks carefully about the cost  And rarely spends at all.  Watching the numbers in her bank account  Sighing as she pays off December's debts AGAIN. She often doesn't feel very celebratory.  But, that January- she's a do-er.  When you resolve to be better at everything, go see January.  *** I've often thought about December and January as polar opposites. December is a time we ...

The packages were under the tree, in color-coordinated wrapping paper. Alex had green paper with Minions in red Santa hats. Megan had magenta paper, with Disney princesses and mistletoe and holly. Wrapping paper flew with exclamations of delight until Megan opened one gift that stopped her in her tracks. Gizmo, a Mogwai- a Gremlin was opened to shrieks of joy. I was not in favor of my 7 year old son and 4 year old daughter watching Gremlins, the classic 80’s movie. I remember it being so scary. On a night where I was out, my husband showed it to them. They loved it and no nightmares. In fact, they talked about Gizmo a lot, especially Megan. Which gave Santa the idea to buy her Gizmo for Christmas. There were many other adorable stuffed animals she received, but it was Gizmo who she held all day long on Christmas. Her new alphabet beads were used to spell out MOGWAI in a necklace for Gizmo. Gizmo was lovingly carried to her grandparents’ house and didn’t leave her arms for ...

In December 2001, back before my curricular units were all planned out prior to the school year starting, created by others and not me; back before "I can" statements were anything I knew; back before teacher evaluations were based on the Danielson Rubric and being deemed "highly effective" was synonymous to the Holy Grail, I was a first year teacher, teaching sixth grade in an elementary school. Back then, one of the subjects I taught was "Language Arts" and aside from the New York State Standards at the time, there wasn't a whole lot of direction in what I should be teaching. While that was disconcerting for a first year teacher, it was also freeing. Here is what my sixth graders did in December 2001: Each student was part of a group. The assignment was to make your own toy or game. It could be based on a real game, like Monopoly, but redone with your own categories and questions. Students had to create the game and write the directions for how y...