SLICE #3

She is one of the quiet ones.

Comes in and gets busy.

Completes assignments.

Responds to my comments on her writing.

Earned an A for the last trimester.

And yet, she is so so quiet.

L never volunteers in class.

Hates to be called on.

Doesn't participate in after school clubs or play any sports.

Doesn't offer information about herself or her family.

I know she lives with her mom and two high-school aged brothers. When I look her up in our school database, I learn that she is cousins with another girl in the class, but the two never acknowledge each other during class, and I wouldn't have guessed that they were related.

I work hard to connect with her.

My school has a policy that teachers greet students at the door (which I would probably do anyway), and I say hello to her, by name, every day. I make a point of letting her know that I notice when she is absent. Recently, her desk has been close to where I stand when I present my mini-lessons, and I am forever putting things down on her desk. I joke with her about having to share her space. She smiles and says, "It's ok, Miss."

And yet she is so, so quiet.

Two weeks ago, on Valentine's Day, I brought note cards and asked my sixth graders to write a note of appreciation to someone that mattered to them. Kids wrote to teachers, to family members, and to friends. I was surprised when L wrote to me.

Dear Dr. Wilcox,
Thank you for all that you do for us. 
Thank you for the books that you recommend to me. 
They have become some of my favorites this year. 
Sincerely, 
L. 

I wrote her a note back the next day. She seemed surprised.

L has read a lot this year. She goes through about a book a week. Most recently, she's been on a historical fiction kick. She read STOLEN GIRL by Marcia Forchuk Skrypuch and then devoured A NIGHT DIVIDED in about three days. I watched her finish that book on Friday, sneaking the last few pages underneath her desk as I did my mini-lesson on writing a conclusion for literary analysis (we are three weeks from our state test).

After school, I catch her as we are walking out of our awards assembly. I acknowledge how quickly she finished A NIGHT DIVIDED and ask if she has something to read for the three-day weekend. She hesitates and says, "Yes," but then recants.

"I don't have anything," she says.

"We have to take care of that. Do you have five minutes?" She says that she does and we head for the library. I am thinking she might like THE WAR THAT CHANGED MY LIFE, but that one is not on the shelves right now. I pull COUNTDOWN by Deborah Wiles.

"Take a look at this one," I say. L thumbs through it and decides that she will try it.

"Will one be enough?"

She hesitates.

"You want two?" I say. "It's a three-day weekend. Take two, just to be sure you have enough."

We choose another and she heads out books in hand.

L is becoming a reader.

Opening up whole new worlds and possibilities for herself.

And yet there are 65 more of them.

And I wonder how many of them have become readers this year.

SLICE #2

Today was one of those "do not pass go, do not collect $200" kind of days.

My plan was go to Weight Watchers at 6:30. After that, I planned to pick up bagels, then head to school, where I was hosting a meeting of the Colorado Children's Book Award Committee. I was thinking I would have about 90 minutes to read sixth grade essays, or clean my desk, or make plans for next week.

And I was especially proud of myself because en route to Weight Watchers, it occurred to me that I would be passing right by a bagel shop. I would save myself 20 minutes, if I got the bagels first, then went to Weight Watchers, then went to school. So that's what I did.

When I got to school, though, everything kind of went to h*** in a hand basket. First, there was the problem with the alarm system. My school works, I think, like a lot of other ones. We use an access card to get into the building, but then, if it's a weekend, you have to turn off the alarm. I've done it hundreds of times, and it's not a big deal. But today the alarm didn't have the familiar "ARMED" message. Instead it had a weird error code. Which meant that I had to call the district security department. And the guy had to walk me through a process to reset the system. Which took about twenty minutes.

And then I went into the library, where we were going to hold the meeting. And someone had evidently had a meeting yesterday, and had left a huge mess. Which took another half hour to clean up.

And then we counted votes. Which usually takes about four hours, but took almost six today.

And then I went to turn on the alarm system. And the weird code from the morning came back on. And I had to call security again. And that took another fifteen minutes.

And then I went to the grocery store, because we are supposed to get eight inches of snow tonight. And the high tomorrow is supposed to be 15. I thought I should get some groceries, just in case. Almost on cue, as I left school, it began to snow. Hard.

While I was at the store, my phone rang. It was the chair of the book committee. All day, we had been using my computer, because it was the only one that was set up to print at my school. Somehow, at the end of the day, she had accidentally put my computer into her bag. She was 45 minutes away, with my computer, which I needed, so I could read the seventy essays that were submitted online yesterday. 

And so, I got back in the car, and drove halfway across town to meet her and get my computer.

And then drove 30 minutes back in a blizzard.

Definitely a "do not pass go, do not collect $200" kind of day.

SLICE #1

Friday night.
The end of a long week.
Bible study on Monday night.
Spanish class on Tuesday.
Parent/teacher conferences until 8:30 on Wednesday.
A district class until 7:00 on Thursday.

Typically, by this time on Friday nights, I'm falling asleep on the couch.
But not tonight.

Tonight it's March 1st, and I'm slicing.

I've sliced every March since 2011.

2011 was a long time ago. In 2011, both of my sons were still living at home. I was the administrative assistant (kind of like an assistant principal) at a small school just a few minutes away from my house. I was juggling work and my boys' never-ending football, basketball, and track schedules. We had two dogs, wild and crazy black lab mixes- Star and Jack, who regularly appeared in my posts because they regularly escaped from the yard and went on wild rampages throughout the neighborhood.

And now it's 2019. I have sliced for nine years. My boys have graduated from high school and been to junior colleges in Arizona and have come back home. One son made me a grandmother. Crazy Jack died. My mom has had brain surgery and moved into a senior living complex. I took her dog, Boo, then Boo died. I taught fourth grade at a school that closed. I have been a literacy coach and a reading interventionist at a dual language school since August 2012. We've have been through three principals and we are currently in the process of hiring a fourth. 

And much of my life is recorded in slices.

Tonight, I went back and read those slices. Laughed. Cried. Remembered.

I was halfway thinking about not slicing. I'm way too busy right now and can't imagine writing for 31 days straight.

But then I read my slices from the past, and I can't imagine not writing. Not capturing those stories

So here we go again…

#NF Picture Book 10 for 10

Anyone who knows me knows that I like a little poetry with my nonfiction. This year, I'm high lighting books that combine poetry and nonfiction. These were all CYBILS poetry nominees this year. 

Earth Verse: Haiku from the Ground Up

by Sally M. Walker

Every Month Is a New Year

by Marilyn Singer

A First Book of the Sea

By Nicola Davies

Hidden City: Poems of Urban Wildlife
By Sarah Grace Tuttle

In the Past: From Trilobites to Dinosaurs to Mammoths in More Than 500 Million Years

by David Elliott

Martin Rising: Requiem for a King 

by Andrea Davis Pinkney

Shaking Things Up: 14 Young Women Who Changed the World

by Susan Hood

Traveling the Blue Road: Poems of the Sea

collected by Lee Bennett Hopkins

Vivid: Poems and Notes About Color

by Julie Paschkis

When Paul Met Artie: The Story of Simon and Garfunkel

by G. Neri


Thanks to Cathy Mere and Mandy Robek for hosting this event. 

Check out some other great lists at Mandy's blog, Enjoy and Embrace Learning. 

POETRY FRIDAY

I often joke that in a previous life I was a mermaid. I'm only partially kidding. I love the water- ocean, swimming pools, rivers, lakes. Maybe that's why I fell in love with Nicola Davies A FIRST BOOK OF THE SEA. Davies has written fifty original poems celebrating experiences like catching a wave, playing in the sand, visiting a tide pool. There are poems celebrating journeys- The Voyage of Captain Zheng He, Sea Turtle, Lord Beaufort's scale.  There are poems celebrating sea life. If I had a beach cottage, this book would be on my coffee table.


"First To See the Sea"
Who will be the first to see the sea?
It will peek between the hills
or show a dreamy line beyond the highway.
Who will be the first to feel their heart
fly up, and cry, "There! Oh there!
There's the sea! As if the whole ocean
had been lost, and found again.


"Finding Shells"
There's no special trick to finding seashells.
All you have to do is look.
It's hard at first, but soon your eyes
will start to notice tiny details
and you'll pick up little bits of beaut.
Let your heart sing for a moment,
then put them back:
someone else might need them.


Deadliest of All
The blue-ringed octopus perhaps?
Whose little bit you'd bearly feel…
until it killed you.

A tiger shark?
With rows of teeth
to slice you into bits.

A sea wasp jellyfish
The stings of just a single tentacle
could end your life.

No! Deadliest of all
is the plastic we throw away
that strangles, suffocates, and poisons.


"Blue Whale's Map"
Blue whales don't know much
about the land, but they can go
from Chile to China
from Alaska to Australia,
and still be in their kingdom.
So who knows more about
the world and what it's made of--
you or a blue whale.


"Happiness"
Sand in my shoes
Salt in my hair
Apebble in my pocket.
The horizon in my eyes.

Tabatha Yeatts is hosting POETRY FRIDAY today.

FRIENDS AND FOES- DOUG FLORIAN

You can never have too many books about friendship. The good times. The hard times. The breakups. The makeups. Douglas Florian's FRIENDS AND FOES: POEMS ALL ABOUT US is another winner. 25  poems about friends. Rhyming poems. List poems. A couple of poems in two voices. Illustrated with folk-ish art. A lovely addition to your friendship basket. Or your Florian basket.

"What Friends Are For"
For sharing
For caring
For giving
Forgiving

For walking
For taking
For waiting
Relating.

For pleasing
For teasing
For finding
Reminding.

For lending
For mending
For treating your fair
But what matters most?
For just being there.



"We Used to Be Friends"
We used to be friends
But we drifted apart.
Don't mesh anymore.
Don't see heart-to-heart.
We used to be friends.
We drifted away.
Will we get back together?
Well, maybe someday.


"Friendship is a Flower"
Friendship is a flower.
You have to let it grow.
You really cannot rush it.
You have to take it slow.
Friendship is a flower.
You have to give it room
so it can grow the deepest roots
and marvelously bloom.

Tara is hosting the Poetry Friday at Going to Walden.

STRIKE?

I have been a teacher since 1981.
More than 35 years.
I've been a classroom teacher in everything from kindergarten to sixth grade.
I've taught reading intervention.
I've been a literacy coach and an assistant principal.
I've worked in curriculum development at the central offices.

In all of those years, and in all of those jobs,
there is one thing I have never done.

I have never once gone on strike.

I've always said that I was there for my kids,
and that even if other teachers went out,
I wouldn't.
I would stay and teach
because that's what I do.

It seems like that's about to change.

The teachers in Denver have been negotiating with the district for over a year.
And they don't seem to be able to come to any kind of agreement.
The district says there is no more money.
And yet we have more supervisors and bosses and "partners"
 than any other district in the state.

In the meantime, the younger teachers in my building
can't make a living wage.
Can't afford apartments anywhere in the city, let alone mortgages.
Can't pay their bills or pay back their student loans.
Work a ten hour school day, then wait tables at night.
Talk regularly about how much they could make in a different profession.
And how much easier it would be.

And I'm worried.
I am worried for my school.
I'm worried for my district.
I'm worried for my profession.

and so, for the first time in my career,
I may be going out on strike.