SOLC Day 1~ gateway uggs

I started experimenting first. Trying out different kinds. Before I knew it I was craving them.

Today I thought about them as I pulled away from the driveway to go to school, barely ten minutes from my last fix. I longed for them when I was teaching, as I conferred with little writers. They occupied my thoughts at lunch, as I walked down the hall to check my mailbox, while I was synchronizing my calendar. 

They were on my mind in the middle of a team meeting. I even tried to create ways I could get them to school.

I couldn't wait to get home. They provide comfort and escape.  My Ugg slippers.

Coming Soon: Slice of Life

Every March I brush cobwebs off the blogging keyboard and make time to write along with other writers/bloggers via Two Writing Teachers' annual Slice of Life community. Come on and try it with us. See Two Writing Teachers for the "how to" and just write.

Home Visits 2011

A few years ago as I began my training year as a Literacy Collaborative Coordinator, I grieved the loss of home visits in the beginning of my year. I missed them. They'd been a teaching ritual since 1980 (with a few years off when I wasn't teaching) and it was hard to imagine having students and not meeting their families. It was an important experience for me.

About that same time, two young teachers asked me about home visits. They were ready to try them. I got pretty excited about those two heading off to meet families knowing what the knocks on the door would bring; students proudly showing teachers their work areas, parents and student bonding with their teachers, the teachers having an opportunity to communicate face to face. I was happy they would get that feeling about a family that can only come from sitting on a sofa or kitchen table, sharing a cup of insam cha (ginseng) tea or chai or cardamom or Ethiopian spiced tea with them, them sharing what they know about this precious student and finally, sharing what they want to accomplish together.

This year I sat on those sofas, sipped tea, and listened to parents speak about their children along with my very willing co-teacher, the second grade classroom teacher with whom I teach literacy.

We brought student artifacts, a translator, our positive thoughts, and the hope we'd learn something. We weren't disappointed. How else would we know about our writer who had books he'd written from first grade stuffed in a drawer and couldn't wait to show them to us? Or about our budding reader who read her books to her baby sister everyday because both parents only spoke Spanish? What about the reader we continue to be worried about, who loves rabbits and his younger brother, whose mom is practically raising four boys on her own, barely providing for them?  We noticed many students share small spaces with lots of people. "Quietly working" can't really happen when it's a far off idea. A side discovery; one thoughtfully quiet, typically still student wasn't so quiet or still, as he showed off his exceptional ability to move. On furniture.

Those memories come to visit us just about every day. We can't reflect on our instruction without those memories. We teach small children with families who love them. Big house, tiny apartment, under the poverty line, well over it, rhythms of another language or fluent English spoken, our students come to learn and their families support them the best they are able.

15 minutes a day? i can do this.

I happened on this post by Two Writing Teachers about joining Laurie Halse Anderson's  "15 minutes a day" writing challenge and thought...hmmm, sounds like a good way to restart the writing engine. It obviously works for Laurie Halse Anderson, successful author of books for young readers to young adults (or readers of any age, really). 


Writing for 15 minutes a day with little purpose other than to get my pen and ideas moving will be good on so many levels. Grabbing a new notebook right now.

Small group planning

hosted by Two Writing Teachers

Spread around me, 37 pounds of thick, generously endowed reading books to reference. Some at my feet on the ottoman, one near my elbow opened to a page with the heading, "self-monitoring and self-correcting." To my right, stacked flush, are recently analyzed running records; that special evidence of approximations and partial knowledge, ready to build on. Add to that, a bit of straight up accuracy. I'm topping it off with a good mechanical pencil, planning template, and my warmed with the microwave, aroma therapy pillow collaring my neck. A necessity after moving around with those 37 pounds of books, I think. Look out guided reading group! Lesson on the way.

an Irish wake

They walked in with their beautiful suits, their black, their eyes sad with grief, wondering if she would be on the dining table. They figured she probably wouldn't be. But, they still told of how it's done in Ireland. Americans take a bit of license with tradition. The local funeral home provides all the support. Even in Ireland now, local funeral homes are used for the wake. This funeral home is more than the just the local funeral home though. They are extended family. It's a small town and everyone's more than what they would be lost in the crowd of a larger town. Everyone grows up knowing everyone else. It was family taking care of family in these last moments.

 She lived in this town for 50 years and the standing room only space reflected she was still the life of the party. She came here as a 17 year old rose from Ireland. So everyone came to say good-bye.

It was almost like it was her dining room in the large reception room, as family and friends greeted the travelers from Mayo and New York, all over New England, and even,Virginia. There were Tiffany memory lights on every table with wishes for the family to keep her memory as lights were shone. Flowers were fanned out, cascading, and soft hues of pink and white, and green. Lots of green. Photos covered walls in the vestibule and more photos faded in and out on a screen remembering her. Bits of Eire were everywhere; Gaelic, Claddaghs, emerald green, Celtic crosses, the lilt of language.

I felt like I got to know her that much better as we gathered close to remember her. It was a sweet farewell.

It's that time of year again- Slice of Life Challenge 2011

Two Writing Teachers host us again!

Over the last few years, during March I've worked in a month of daily writing through the Slice of Life Challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers. I'm tardy. But, I can't pass up the chance to think and write about those small things, to choose those just right words, or share the events as they come. Truth is having a collection of stories at the end of the month feels good.

The volume of stories and comments by fellow slicers; at once encouraging, nurturing, smart, and enjoyable is an important product of this special writing workshop. Being part of that feels pretty good, too.

As I posted the icon to the right here, I thought how one of my goals three years ago during the Challenge was to get closer to what my third grade students must go through when they are writing in class everyday. When I wrote daily, I reflected daily on my writing process. The more I wrote, the more I realized how many decisions I was making along the way. It was hard. I developed empathy in a whole new way for my student writers. I immediately changed how I conferred with my students. I'm wondering what changes in my teaching I'll be thinking about this month.

If you write or get to teach writing, I encourage you to join the Slice of Life Challenge! Click on this to learn how to get started.