SLICE OF LIFE #7- STUCK

About a week from the blessed event.  We are in that final push, writing and writing and writing.

Remembering all that we have taught. Worrying over what we haven't.

This morning I am in fourth grade. We are doing a research simulation. The kids have read 2 articles and watched a video, we have annotated the prompt, planned together, and now they are ready to write a piece comparing two of the articles.

Robin, the fourth grade teacher, and I circle the room, conferring with individual kids.

D's voice breaks into my writing conference.

"Dr. Carol," she says.

I am surprised that she is interrupting my conference. I have just finished speaking to her, and she seemed really clear on where she wants to go with her essay. And the kids know better than to interrupt a writing conference.

Almost before I can respond, she says, "Dr. Carol, I need help." Again, I am surprised. She is usually not that needy.

"I'm stuck," she says.

I think she is talking about her writing. "You are stuck?" I ask, all ready to ask her what writers do when they get stuck.

Suddenly, her table partner feels the need to intervene.

"Dr Carol, her foot is stuck."

"Her foot is stuck?" I say dumbly.

"Yes, she's stuck."

D's face is now one of complete panic.  I bend down to look at her shoe. Somehow, she has managed to jam her sparkling white, brand new tennis shoe into the metal book rack soldered to the bottom of the chair.  And now she is stuck.

I try to wiggle her foot a little.

"Ow," she says. "That hurts. My foot is stuck."

I can't figure out what to do. Her foot really is stuck. I decide to take her shoe off, but it is double knotted, so I sit down on the floor next to the chair and pick at the knot. An audience is beginning to gather. I pick at the knot some more, and finally manage to loosen it.

I still can't get her shoe off.

"You need to loosen the laces," advises R, who sits right behind D.

I pull the laces. The shoes appear to be new and the lacing holes are tight.

I tug at them for a couple of more minutes.

"You have to undo them all the way down," R says.

Finally, I manage to loosen the laces enough to get the shoe off. D's foot releases.

"Phew," I say. "I guess you don't have to take our chair home with you."

D is embarrassed, but manages a half-hearted smile.

She returns to her writing and I return to my conference.

Just another day in the life of a writing teacher, a week before the tests.

SLICE #6- A MOTHER'S PRAYER

He started today.

Another new job. 

The fourth? fifth? sixth? 

OK, I actually don't know how many this year. 

Mostly car related. 

Usually they last a month or two,

and then something happens. 

The road to adulthood

has been more than a little bumpy. 

But today he started again.

Detailing at a car dealership.

A job he found on the internet. 

I send a text before he starts, 

Wishing him luck. 

He comes back, "Thanks."

I send up a prayer. 

That the job will be a good fit. 

That he will like it. 

That he will be surrounded by good people. 

That there will be room to grow. 

That he will stay. 

At noon, I text again.

"Thinking of you. 

Hope it's going well."

He does not answer.

I did not expect that he would.

I call around 7.

He tells me had a good day,

That he detailed,

but also did other things. 

That they ordered him a uniform. 

That he thinks it is the best job

he has ever had. 

He sounds happy. 

And I pray that this job will last. 

SLICE #5- RESPONDING VS. GRADING

The papers sit in a messy stack on my computer desktop.

5 more Close Reading Planners. 15 more article reactions. Almost 30 System Functional Linguistic planners. Artifacts from the "Literacy for English Language Learners" class I finished teaching on Thursday night.

The class, along with 7 others, are required for teachers new to my district. It's a great class. I love teaching it. And as an oldie moldie, who is not THAT far from retirement, I love leaving my mark on all of these new baby teachers.

I don't so much love grading papers. It takes forever. Especially when the class has 31 students. Which this one did.

The problem for me is that I spend way too much time on each paper. For me, it's not about attaching a grade. It's not about filling out the numbers on a rubric, although I do use one. I could care less about the numbers or letter grades. Instead, for me, it's about the conversations.

I love engaging in conversations around people's work. I try really hard to give my students positive feedback about the things they did well. And then to push them to question themselves, and to engage in new thinking. I usually try to provide a link to one or two resources-- websites or books or articles that I think they might enjoy. It takes me a long time to respond like that.

I got up super early this morning to read papers. I read for four hours, then went to Colorado Springs to see my mom. I only got through 15 articles reactions. The Close Reading Planners take longer, usually 45 minutes to an hour each. The SFL planners are half an hour minimum.

And all of them have to be done by Thursday.

This isn't part of my regular job. This is an extra job that I started when my sons were in college.  And just haven't quit. I still have to do work for my regular job too.

I actually should be doing that right now instead of slicing.

I'm thinking I have some late nights and early mornings ahead this week.

Because responding to people takes way longer than grading.

SLICE #4- NOT ONE OF MY FINER MOMENTS…

It seems like most people's posts portray them in a pretty favorable light.

But I suspect there are two sides to every coin.

So tonight I'm going to post a slice that portrays me in, ummmm, a not-so-favorable light.

It happened this afternoon.

But maybe I should back up a little. This was a really crazy week. Super, super busy, with lots of night stuff. An extra class. A paper due. A class to teach. Papers to grade. On and on and on.

On top of all of the physical busy-ness, it was a grueling week emotionally. My principal, who I have worked with for the last five years, and who I like very much, retired the middle of last week, very unexpectedly. And now we have an interim principal. And it's been really hard. And I'm really tired.

This morning I went to a meeting for the Colorado Children's Book Award, then went to the library to read my students' papers for three hours this afternoon. Then I decided to come home and walk the dog. It was absolutely gorgeous, warm enough to be outside in short sleeves, and I didn't want to miss the day.

I clipped the leash on Star and started out. We were about three blocks from home, when I heard someone screaming. I looked down the street and saw a lady, three or four houses down holding a medium sized black poodle-looking dog. She was screaming at a large German Sheperd mix dog who was trying to get at her little dog.

Then in almost an instant, the German Shepherd turned around. And ran, full speed, straight toward us. Teeth bared. Growling and barking. I was terrified.

I had read somewhere, that if your dog is ever involved in a dog fight, you should let go of the leash, so that your dog has a chance to defend itself. And so that's what I did. I let go of Star's leash, so that my slightly geriatric, overweight,  ten-year-old lab mix might at least have a chance against all of that power and all of those teeth.

The two ran at each other, and I waited for blood. Somehow, though, they didn't fight. Instead, they made big, whirling looping, barking, circles two or three times, and then Star was done.

By that time, a man, evidently the owner of the dog, had arrived at the corner. I could see, now that things had slowed down a little, that the dog was trailing a leash. So maybe he had somehow gotten loose.

But I was so scared I was shaking all over.

And I was so mad. All I had wanted to do was have a peaceful walk with my dog, on a beautiful spring afternoon, after a hard, hard week. And then this happened.

"Get hold of your *** (insert bad word here)  dog, " I screamed.

And I could tell the man didn't know what to say. He just looked at me. He didn't say anything.

I grabbed Star's leash and dragged her down the street.  

And I have been feeling bad about my reaction ever since.

Definitely not one of my finer moments.

SLICE #3- SOMETIMES LIFE GETS IN THE WAY

So technically, I guess this slice won't count.
It's 10:20 Mountain Time.
That means it's 12:20 Eastern Time.
Twenty minutes late.
But what can I say?
Sometimes life just gets in the way.

This has been a crazy busy week.
Class on Tuesday night.
A ten page paper due.
And also my night to be discussion leader.
On 75 pages of reading.
A completely different topic than the paper.

Wednesday night I responded to papers
for the class I taught last night, from 5:15-7:15.
I got home at 8.
And sliced.
And responded to my Welcome Wagon slicers.

This morning I got up.
Prepped for three data team meetings.
Got to school a little after six.
Led data teams.
Taught four intervention groups.
Did lunch duty.
Met with two different grade levels.
Did hall duty.

A friend teacher at my school
danced in a concert across town tonight.
So another teacher and I grabbed dinner at Panera's,
then went to the concert.

And now it's 10:30
And I haven't sliced.
So technically I guess I missed a day.
But it's not midnight here
And sometimes life just gets in the way.

SLICE #2- ANOTHER GOODBYE

We said goodbye to another family yesterday.

A mom.

Always smiling.

Kind words.

Hugs.

Eighth grade girl.

Dyed red hair reaching to her waist.

Had just tried out for the soccer team.

Tiny third grade boy.

Timid smile.

Sweet spirit.

So quiet.

They left last night.

Headed back across the border.

Too afraid to stay.

SLICE #1- WHAT'S MY WHY?

A week or so ago, I mentioned that I am going to Weight Watchers. I go to the meetings on Saturday mornings at 7:30. The ritual is the same every week. I walk in, starving to death, little blue weigh in book in hand. I look at the Weight Watcher products, and try to decide whether a scale or special measuring spoons, or a $7 box of Vanilla Smoothie Mix is really worth the investment. Most of the time, I stay for the meetings.  The leader, Cheri, might have been a standup comedian in a previous life and is brutally honest about her own weight loss struggles and slip-ups, which is probably why I really like her.

Every week Cheri gives a little pep talk. Last week's pep talk was entitled "What's Your Why?" Why are you trying to lose weight? People had lots of different answers- for their health, getting married, for their kids, so they can wear bathing suits this summer, etc. I think my major reason has to do with control. There are a million things going on in my life that I can't control, or haven't yet taken control of anyway; but my weight, developing healthier eating habits, and working on my writing, is an area I actually can do something about.

I've been thinking a lot about "What's My Why?" as I start March Slice of Life for what I think might be the seventh time, wondering, as I always do, whether I will really be able to pull this off.

There are a lot of reasons not to slice this year.  I have a full time (60 hour per week plus) job. We have a really difficult and unusual situation going on at work right now that is sapping every bit of emotional energy I can muster and leaving me wishing for bed at 7 every night.  I'm teaching a class for our ELA (English Language Acquisition) Department-- it's huge, 31 students, and I'm way behind in responding to their work. I'm pretty much in complete and total mother fail right now.

And yet I will slice. Or at least I will try to slice, because I think I live better when I slice. I pay closer attention to my own life, because I know I will need to put something down on paper. When I am writing, and working on getting better at writing, I'm a better teacher of writing. I've "met" lots of really nice people, all over the world, through Slice of Life. Some of those people write all year long, and I connect with them most Tuesdays.  Other people just write in March, and it's fun to reconnect with them each year. I love getting comments and feedback on my writing.

And so I begin. Not sure I can do all 31 days. But I'm at least going to try.