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

Back on March 1 , I wrote about the bridge we were stepping on as we crossed from March to April in this month of daily writing. Today, on the downhill, we now easily trot the last steps to the other side, the place we've been journeying to all this month, the bridge itself full of discoveries and adventures.  I found myself saying, "I haven't been reading much because of the blogging challenge this month", thinking about all the novels, chapter books, and picture books still on my TBR list. But, I caught myself after saying this, realizing I've been reading so much: so many moving, funny, surprising, brave slices. The reading and the writing have changed me- perhaps invisible to most, but the stories, poems, and posts I've read and written have changed me for good. (Nod to "Wicked.") So, Slicers, this is my poem, celebrating us. We did it. A badge of honor that always belongs to us! Here's To Us Here's to us. Here's to the...

Dear Friend Having a Baby, It filled my heart with happiness when you slid the sonogram picture across the diner table, your way of sharing the amazing news with me. I know this baby was a dream that wasn't easy to come by, as my first baby was  also "the dream that I'd been chasing" to quote Martina McBride. When you want a baby of your own, it is a wanting like no other. It is a deep yearning and a worried question mark about what the future will bring. For me, getting the news that I would be a mom came from a doctor's office voicemail on my cell phone, which I listened to, disbelieving, in the closet in my kindergarten classroom. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.  Being pregnant is a unique season in your life. For me, I eagerly counted the weeks, noted how the baby changed from a poppyseed to a blueberry to an orange to eventually a melon. I read all the books. I kept the pregnancy journal. I eagerly anticipated doctor's appoint...

"I think you should run for President of the Student Government," he told me, his warm brown eyes holding mine.  Sophomore year in college, E. was my crush. I looked for his car whenever I drove onto campus, and when I saw it parked in the familiar spot, my heart would beat faster knowing he was around and I might bump into him. Molloy was totally a commuter college at the time, but E. worked on campus in the fitness center and often parked near it. He was older than me, although I didn't exactly know how much older. He was a social work major and had that kind, caring heart that goes along with that job. My crush was totally unrequited. But, here he sat across from me, imploring me to run for President of the MSG. I was sophomore class co-president and the current Vice President was slated to run, unopposed, for President, which was usually how elections worked at Molloy. No one ran against anyone else. People floated into positions of power and promptly did.. not ...

On Easter morning, Alex sits across the kitchen table Dark lashes framing  big blue eyes, Expressive as he explains  a meteor killed the dinosaurs, even the babies who just hatched. I say, "No one knows for sure" "Maybe it happened fast" Don't want to think of eggs hatching into a world where they were doomed from the very start. It's Easter and we  don't go to church. The kids won't sit they are too little, but maybe we should, because Easter is more  than chocolate rabbits and toys. Maybe church can help me Explain to Alex The unexplainable. In a world of meteors and doomed baby dinosaurs and bombs exploding  in every corner of the world and guns killing first graders and their teachers, We need to believe that there is so much more than what we see. Easter reminds us The saddest part  Of the story  Is never really The end.

Thank you to Margaret Simon for another week of #DigiLit Sunday. Visit Margaret's site to link up your post this week on TRUST.  When I taught kindergarten, some of my colleagues always told the students what topic to write about. The whole class would be writing about animals today, or the weather. They felt that students would not know how to pick an idea and it was better to have an idea ready for them.  I never assigned topics. We would brainstorm how to think of your own idea for writing, with charts made mostly of pictures for them to reference if they got stuck. Because I trusted my 5 year old writers had ideas and believed they could pick a topic, they always did. We had struggles in writing workshop, for sure, but one of the struggles was never picking a topic. They could always do it.  Trust goes hand-in-hand with risk-taking and security. You have to feel secure that if you fall, you will have a soft place to land. When you know that failing won...

My first memory of shame about my weight was sitting on the white-tissue paper covered table in the pediatrician's office at a well exam. Could I have been 6? The nurse and my mother were having a conversation in the hallway and my older sister took it upon herself to let me know the nurse was telling Mom I weighed too much. I remember the feeling of shame and embarrassment. I think I cried. It wouldn't be the last time tears where shed over my weight.  I was always chubby, from the start, aside from my very average, slightly small birth weight of 6 pounds. Family legend has it that I ate my pastina with two hands. My second birthday reveals me in a a bathing suit, extra flesh squeezing out the sides, wearing a crown and holding a fork. I was a kid who enjoyed, thoroughly, food and loved eating plain slice of American cheese and dishes of my Grandma's pasta. I was also a sedentary kid, who loved sitting with my toys, reading books, coloring and disliked sports and ou...

Dear Grandma,  Happy 90th Birthday, your first in Heaven. If you were still here with us, we would surely be having a special celebration Friday and this weekend. Sometimes I still can't believe you are gone. I still think of you in your cozy house, sitting in your pink rocking chair facing the afternoon sun, listening to the radio. Or sitting on your front porch in  your white rocker, or talking on the phone to Mom or Judy, or cooking sauce in the kitchen. Sometimes I still want to pick up the phone and dial that familiar number that I dialed for years, hear your "Hiya Kath" at the other end of the line.  It's your birthday, and this year there is no pocketbook to buy for you, or spring nightgown, or nails and toes gift certificate. There are no birthday cards to write out. Yet I still feel like I want to give you a gift. My gift will be to thank you for all the gifts you gave to me in the 36 years and change that we knew each other.  Thank you for the g...

Kristin signed my copy of Amplify!  On Tuesday, March 22, I braved the Cross Island Parkway during the morning rush to get to Bayside to hear Kristin Ziemke speak about Amplify: Digital Teaching and Learning in the K-6 Classroom. It was worth every second in traffic to be inspired by this remarkable, accessible, approachable, energizing teacher, author, and innovator! I'm a girl who loves resources, and Kristin provided plenty. Here is the link to some amazing resources she shared and invited us to share:  https://goo.gl/n44EPW   Honestly, it is a treasure trove of materials to explore!  Kristin opened by sharing two books she recently finished ( Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys and My Life on the Road by Gloria Steinem). She invited us to talk about what we've been reading with the people at our table. It was so nice to have a workshop grounded in literacy and conversation and that paved the way for our discussions about keeping literacy at the ...

Anger-filled words Float away from me Like bubbles But without beauty Further and further away From what I meant to say. What I really feel in my heart. They rose up and spewed out Never to be forgotten. Hate always begets hate. I know this. Tonight, the words escaped. Today, regrets. 

Two responsible and kind students approached me this morning as we were settling into our unpacking routine, starting a snowy Monday in March in third grade. A boy and a girl, these two are rule-followers, respectful, and kind.  They wanted to tell me about something that happened on Friday, when I was out of the classroom for a math training. Something had troubled them, weighed on their minds, they thought I should know. They were letting me know of an injustice that befell two of their fellow students that day.  I listened. I heard what they said. And I don't know all the ins and outs, the whats and the whys of the situation. What I do know is these students cared deeply about their classmates and trusted me to hear them and maybe do something to right the wrong.  We spend so much time talking about empathy. We read books and talk about characters and kindness and courage. I never know how much they understand, really, or how much these conversations will chang...