Homework for Life

This is a post I was working on before my world turned upside down.

One of my main projects this summer was to purge a lot of stuff out of my studio, with the goal it would be ready when Braydon arrives for a visit in August -- a room of his own, even though it is just a sleeping bag on the floor.

While unearthing things, I found several journals. One was from my first two years teaching, and also included my "Golden Apple" journeys. I read through every word, revisiting how I worked through my first year of teaching -- and sometimes thought, hmmmm, some things never change...--and how I grew the second year. The Golden Apple stuff...ugh.  

 

I easily tossed that journal. It didn't have much to offer.

 

Then I found my Homework for Life notebook. I first wrote about this concept on my blog in a post titled "Clippings of Love" in July of 2018. After reading through this notebook, I was compelled to share this idea again.

 

The Homework for Life notebook had entries from July 2018 until May 2020. The concept is simple: at the end of each day, write down something that is story worthy--something that you want to remember and could share with others.

 

Reading through the notebook gave me so much joy, I can hardly explain. The fact that it steps us into the pandemic is an additional gift. It reminded me of stories I have long remembered, and it prompted me to remember things I had forgotten all about. An example: there are several entries that mention a student named Dobbin who I taught two different years. Truth be told, I've forgotten all about Dobbin. But there were so many sweet moments with him I recorded, it made me wonder how I could have forgotten him.

Thus the power of Homework for Life.

I cannot part with this particular notebook because I think there are still stories to tell from it. And I immediately revisited Matthew Dicks' video that explains the power of this small technique. I purchased a new notebook and have started again.

If you are reading this, I implore you to watch Matthew's video and start your own Homework for Life notebook. It contains a power that no other writing has. Do it for yourself. You won't regret it.

P.S. Matthew has a blog where he shares a story daily. I am finding it something I look forward to every day.  He always frames things in ways that matter.  Subscribe at Matthew Dicks Blog

 

An Elaborate Game

 

(This spontaneous riff inspired by David Kirby’s poem “King of Good Fellows”)

Writing this week was a real challenge. I felt like I wasn't able to clearly formulate my thoughts, or I didn't have any thoughts at all to formulate and had to stretch for inspiration. It hasn't been that way all along, so it was a tad frustrating. 

But then I read David Kirby's poem and I found words for what is somewhere in the periphery of my brain and heart and gut.

...what is Shakespeare 

doing if not throwing everything

against the wall and seeing

what sticks?

Yes, I thought, that is what this week has felt like. Throwing stuff against the wall and hoping I haven't totally lost my mojo.

Kirby continues about Shakespeare...

we see the world as it really is, 

a mishmash, a glorious shiny mess 

where I am king and you are queen,

but neither of us wears a crown.

Yes, I thought, mishmash. Maybe not so much glorious and shiny, but mess to be sure.

Then this...

 

Don't limit yourself, poets!

Do  you think Shakespeare said,

"I better limit myself.."

 

Yes! This whole exercise is about not limiting myself. A year of writing after a year of hardly every writing deserves a chance to test the limits. This can happen...right?

 

...because Shakespeare is so generous,

so kind to us...so possessed of a 

mind that makes no distinction

between anything and anything else.

 

Is that my problem? Too many distinctions? Reaching for something that I don't need to be reaching for?

 

an elaborate game that's totally

realistic and, at the same time,

make believe.

Ha! Maybe a bit more fantasy is needed, more imagination, more understanding that this isn't all THAT important. It's an elaborate game I'm playing in my own mind. 

a dream no one has dreamed yet,

but you're in it, and you're the star

Okay. Caught me. I think I'm so original, such a star. A little humility, gurl.

 

For some reason I felt compelled to color the picture of Pegasus I included on this post, even though I had no idea what meaning it could possibly bring. So I checked back into the Pegasus story and found he was instructed by Zeus to bring lightning and thunder from Olympus. He is the creator of Hippocrene (a fountain), and allowed Bellrophen to ride him to defeat the monster Chimera. Some stories have him dying at the hands of Zeus.

 

Sheesh. And you thought Shakespeare was throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks? What about those Greeks? Clearly, it is all an elaborate game we play to entertain ourselves. What the hell else are we doing when we tell stories?

 

We are all limitless poets, dreaming a dream in which we star.

And...gotta admit...it's an elaborate game of which I'm rather fond.

Thanks, readers, for playing along.

“…like a sleepy baby”

I have a boy named Hector, an 8th grader, in my creative writing class this semester. He is often absent, and when he’s there he tends to sleep. I got him to write one thing so far, and the last few classes he wasn’t even present.

The writers are working on doing modern retellings of fairy tales and myths. I was not there Tuesday, but Hector was. My awesome guest teacher talked to Hector and encouraged him to write.

And write he did.

I was so surprised when I found his story “The Little Thug Who Just Needed a Hug” submitted in the draft folder. That title! It is a story about a boy who does bad things because he doesn’t feel love, his family abandons him, his grandmother dies and that lights a fire in him that can’t be extinguished. He finds a woman to talk to and tell his troubles, and when he is done he falls into her arms “like a sleepy baby”—this was the healing that was needed. Someone to listen and hold him. Heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time.

WOW.

I shared the story with his counselor, Betty, and the social worker. They were in tears. Betty went on to read the story to nearly everyone in the front office. She also talked to Hector, not revealing I shared his story but that I had mentioned he wrote something good. Hector explained to her that some of the story was fictionalized, but some was not.

As I was walking in the hallway I heard a student call out, “Hi Ms. Sadler.” I looked over and saw it was Hector.

I can say with confidence in the past he would have just ignored me. I chalk this up to another connection made through the power of the written word and telling stories that matter.

“The Knots Untie”

Inspired by Rumi’s poem of the same name.

Love is pulling us out by the ear to school.

Love wants us clean of resentment and those impulses that misguide our souls.

 When we try to make sense of things

without realizing it’s all about the narrative,

the story we tell ourselves,

we are misguided souls.

Nothing in isolation.

Nothing permanent.

We are constantly fooled, aren’t we?

Hitting the Reset Button

 It’s a new day.

Yesterday I spent a good hour coming to terms with all the ways I’ve gone wrong this school year. Many things have started to click together, and the things I’m doing wrong rose to the surface.

It started when I randomly clicked on January 2019 in this blog and found a poem I wrote where I mentioned we have to “bend the curriculum to the students,” a quote from Cornelius Minor.

It reminded me of something I read on New Year’s Day, an essay by a teacher who talked about storyboarding the curriculum, an idea that set me on fire. After all, I have preached to my students that everything is about story. Why I never applied that to the curriculum is anyone’s guess.

That aside, I realized that I have been unkind at times. Controlling. Have carried negative feelings toward certain learners. Have focused on the wrong things. Have looked for magical answers and then blamed the kids when they didn’t work.

I tired myself out.

Between revisiting We Got This by Cornelius Minor and Dare to Lead by Brene Brown, I found a direction. The new semester is a chance to hit the reset button and start again.

One of the things that stood out in Dare to Lead was Brene’s list of the differences between Armored Leadership and Daring Leadership.

Armored: Leading for compliance and control.

Daring: Cultivating commitment and shared purpose.

This provided my direction.

I also revisited the end of the book where she explains thoroughly that everything is about the stories we tell ourselves. There was that word STORY again.

I’ve concluded that everything is about story or nothing is. I will take the former, and I will make it a part of my classroom culture. There are already a million ideas floating around in my head, and I can’t wait to get started.

After all, today is a new day.

Between the Branches

 [Note: Sunday morning I arrived at Six Mile Cypress Slough, read David Whyte’s poem “The Thicket,” walked and meditated and took photos, wrote this, and then added quotes from Whyte’s poem in italics.]

I took my meditation to the slough…

free and observant

Contemplated the nature of all things being evolutionary and revolutionary…

surveying the tiny stages and the curtained dramas

Such as the Spanish moss hanging from tree branches…

 every further stage of vision leading me back to smaller and smaller worlds

The Pilated Woodpecker busy on his branch, finding breakfast, preening himself…

Always two realities…action or non-action.

never leave the branching world...a kind of enclosed womb-like eternity

What changes things?

Ideas. Curiosity. Faith.

The trees are both able to be touched and observed in a watery mirror.

Is the reflection telling the truth? 

searching between the branches... the knowledge of some immanence

When it was time to leave, the sun in the Cypress pond lit the way…

 

brought clarity to silence, set me to grow

Heart lifted. Exhilarated. A quiet mind.

Taking all the necessary actions

To meet the revolution.

20. Be Relaxed. Be Ready.

 #66Challenge

 

Yesterday I decided it was time to walk a labyrinth, as I had some things on my mind that I thought a good meditative walk would resolve. 

Before I went, I pulled out my Labyrinth Journal, which I've been writing in after just about every labyrinth walk since December 2006. In it I found my last labyrinth walk on February 15, 2020.

The photo of the card below is from a deck I have called Perfect Calm cards. On the back of the card is a little piece of writing about Taking Responsibility. 

In a reflection I wrote, I said I felt the card was telling me to relax and keep calm even when things seem to be falling apart. This was just a few weeks after my husband had a mild stroke, and a few weeks before the world would be in a full-blown global pandemic. At the time I walked the labyrinth, Coronavirus was just a blip on my radar, so I know I wasn't writing about it.

I also wrote these words about the card:

The crossroads card brought to mind that I very well could be coming to a transition...Anything can change at any time. The message from the labyrinth is Be Relaxed. Be Ready.

 

Fast forward to the day I reflected on "Vienna," which I wrote about in the previous post. I know cultural anthropologist and mythologist Michael Meade talks a lot about genius, so I went to find a video about that, since Billy Joel had mentioned it. I came upon a video called "Run Toward the Roar," and I know I've heard the story before, and thought I'd check it out once more.

This is an ancient story about how the elders in Africa would teach the young warriors to hunt. They taught them that the old lions, the ones that were no longer able to run fast, would sit in the tall grasses. The younger lions would be across the way, in another area of grass. When the herds made their way toward the lions, the old lions would roar loudly -- causing the herd to run to where the more vital and able lions were waiting. They taught their young warriors to "Go toward the roar."

Fast forward to now. It is no secret the education system is in a huge crisis, and even I have been a victim of the dysfunction, a teacher looking to perhaps retire or to at least run away as fast as I can. It took a complete mental and physical breakdown (with time away) to find my direction.

Michael Meade says right now the culture as a whole is going through a collective rite of passage. I believe this applies directly to teachers, as well as many other issues we are facing. Here is the way he describes it:

A group of people begin to realize that the world as we imagine it, the worldview that we inherited, does not work anymore. It doesn't solve most people's problems, and in this case, it destroys the ecosystems and things like that, so it's a worldview that cannot, in the long run, be life-sustaining. And there's an old idea that humans come into the world when the life-support system of the womb collapses...Now we consider the way we view the world, the womb that we used to be in, the one we call the modern world or the western world, no longer works as a sustaining system for either culture or for nature. We need to exit from the womb and go towards what seems to be the roar, but it also is the direction where we might be able to imagine the next world that is more sustainable and inclusive....We are like the young people told by the elders to run to the roar.

What he is speaking of 100% applies to education. The "womb" has been deteriorating for a long time, and we did little to adjust. Now we are in a major crisis that HAS to be re-imagined by the collective. The things we are doing DO NOT WORK. Teachers are on the front line and are suffering from the lack of life-support. This is devastating for our entire culture.

The issue is that educators are bailing because it has gotten completely unsustainable for so many (and I know...I was there, and who knows, could end up there again.) The sad part is there is a lot of blame and talking about the problems, but not a lot of people talking about any real solutions. At least not that I've heard, and I've been paying attention!

So, back to February 15, 2020. Yes, I sensed there were changes, but not at all as we were confronted with. I recall the many difficulties and dark days during that spring, the separation from each other, and all the other devastating affects. We said then we'd have to do something different, that this was a signal to transition and re-vision education. Instead, we just have more of the same, this constant drumbeat to "return to normal," but now with a whole additional cache of unskilled behaviors, unbelievable stresses, and mental health issues among our young learners.

Guided by the many teachings that are coming my way, I know that my job is to go toward the roar. Sometimes I feel I am terribly alone in this endeavor, and I sometimes question my sanity. Yet...I know this is what I need to do. I feel my instructions from Spirit are clear.

This has been a good week to reflect on many of these things, and many more I haven't written here yet. Somehow I know I am exactly where I'm supposed to be. My mission has become even clearer as I've progressed through the many messages and spiritual encouragements coming my way. 

I suppose you can say that in late October I stood at the crossroads and was ready to just run off into the field...but now I have chosen my direction, and I'm committed. And the crossroads card taught me something else: Be Relaxed. Be Ready.

I know I have a mission to fulfill

15. Spirit Walking

 

#66Challenge

Written 11/3/2021 after reading these lines in Joy Harjo's poem "Spirit Walking in the Tundra"

This is what it feels like...

when you spirit walk

there is a shaking, and then you

are in mystery.

I've been through a kind of shaking

and now I am in mystery.

My spirit walk through this thing

called my teaching life continues

to morph and change.

I am aware that being away can

skew the reality -- well aware.

 

Yet...

some things point the way

toward a peace with the facts.

I mean, what is the point of fighting?

 

I must remain spiritually healthy

to do my work. That was

what I was missing. It was what

led to this breakdown of my

immune system.

 

Yet...

I can rise.

 

I had a revelation. My learners

need to be supervised by adults

and

loved by adults.

One cannot supersede the other. 

There is a huge gap to fill, a place

that fell away back when

they were in elementary.

It's different for each one, so it

leaves us to not even know

how to begin to repair.

What I do know is love and

kindness are never wasted.

 

And all things work together

for good

and it serves me.

 

 

Walking a Memory

 It was still dark that December morning when I ran this trail, alone in my disbelief and grief. At 6 a.m. in 1980, my husband at his night shift job at the steel mill, I was a solitary figure on a new bike trail that ran along the soon to open I-480 in North Olmsted, Ohio.

This morning I relived that memory of the morning I heard John Lennon had been killed. I recall running on that mild morning, tears welling up time after time. My desire to be a runner was hard fought, and I have never really become one. I gave up on it long ago. And one thing I know—after that morning, I don’t think I was ever on this trail again until today. 

When I heard our hotel was close to Great Northern mall, I couldn’t stop thinking about walking the trail. The area is extremely built up now, not the many fields with a highway cutting through. I was surprised by the number of houses, as I would have told you this bike path was totally remote. I was amused by the barn on one property, so reminiscent of the farm community North Olmsted once was, and the high rise looming up behind it. 

Much like that day in December over 40 years ago, I was alone on the trail except for one woman with her dog way ahead of me. The maintenance isn’t great, and I know there are better trails in the area for people to frequent. 

Returning here today helped me breathe easier somehow.  I can’t help but think again how grief layers into us. The fact that I had no one to talk with about this for a few hours means I had to handle it alone. I can see now why this has always stuck with me.

Delighted by the wildflowers, and happy that I got a 2 mile walk in, I returned to my hotel, my heart at peace and a lingering memory resolved. 

TKO (7 Lines/ 7 Days #54)

 #108Weeks

 

May 23-29, 2021

 

Important notes about this post: This week I added a bit of a theme and stuck with it. After all I went through I feel like I should have a terrycloth robe with my name embroidered on the back. It was tough, and I'm not sure the next 13 days with kids will be any better. It's exhausting for everyone to have a year like this. This post marks my halfway point with with this project. I am grateful to be keeping this documentation of events, even the painful ones.

 

 

On Sunday I had a nice walk with Amy at Lakes Park, then to Fancy's for Chicken and Waffles. YUM.

In order to survive, I'm teaching a novel to 5th period called The Contender, about a 16-year-old high school drop-out training to be a boxer. Most kids are really into it. It's a perfect story for these guys.

Tuesday was a chill day. The calm before the storm.

JAB--I have to sit in another teacher's classroom with 6th graders for hours while the 7th and 8th graders test. Returning to my room, I spilled a large mug of water, nearly wiping out my cellphone.  Also lost a pair of good reading glasses in transit. Then rushed through 17-minute period (6 classes) the rest of the day. In that short time I managed to write 2 referrals in 5th period.

CROSS--Walking quickly at school I turn a corner and my right foot slides and go down on my left knee, shocking me. No indication the floor had just been mopped. I was traumatized for several hours, but appear to be okay. Falling at any age is tough. At 65, it is scary as hell.

HOOK--Had to write two more referrals* during 5th period. One girl was screaming at a boy during a class discussion. Is there no end to this madness?

UPPERCUT --Anxiety has built up in my chest. Even after getting a massage, I didn't sleep well and had a frustrating dream. Thank God for a 3-day-weekend. I need to recover, because I'm back in the ring on Tuesday.

*I have only written 3 other referrals all year.  This week I wrote FOUR.

La Kitchen

 Inspired by Richard Blanco's poem "El Florida" and written during our Write Around the Corner meeting.

The kitchen

once a lonely place for me

slapping together "whatever" meals

The kitchen

now with new shiny stainless 

steel appliances

a sturdy cutting board

new pans and knife set

The kitchen

where my husband and I now are chefs together

He -- the master of steaks and chicken

Me--handling the vegetables and potatoes and risotto

One year now of delicious healthy enticing dinners

not just thrown together by one

but prepared lovingly by two

Olive oil and garlic permeating the air

sauces created with hazelnut or fig jam or honey mustard

Music, of course

Lately a lot of Billy Joel

sometimes 90s country

or a jazz-filled playlist

Taking the food to the dining room table

candles lit, cloth napkins

The kitchen -- OUR kitchen

A lonely place no more.

Your First Morning

 

Caboose poem inspired by Joy Harjo's "First Morning"

 

Don't look back, keep going

The year landed as it did

Now you move ahead,

reaping what you've sown

Knowing better days are coming.

In the bleak December this

may seem far away

And we know the virus

is only increasing (sadly, unnecessarily)

But every morning is a 

FIRST MORNING

The first morning to smile

     The first morning to breathe

          The first morning to write yourself into a new story.

It is always possible.

No clock ticking but your own self-imposed limitations.

Don't look back.

Keep going.

Another Tough Week (7 Lines/ 7 Days #31)

 #108Weeks

December 13-19, 2020

 

 

 

I am happy to return to Zen, something that has drifted away.

I saw a beautiful eagle flying rather low -- a great reminder that Spirit is always with me.

Ricky's band concert was livestreamed and I loved everything about it!

I worked on non-attachment, especially with my 6th graders.

If I want my students to enjoy writing, I have to provide a light environment. 

I love hearing their laughter as they put their ideas together.

 

I had to shut down a 7th grader's assertion that being required to go to school was like slavery. 

Uh, no. Not ever.

 

Yesterday morning I had a sad reminder of all we've lost. Really choked me up.

45. Among the Joshua Trees

#64Challenge

The next assignment for my creative writing classes is focused on an overarching theme of "change." They will read two poems and read the lyrics and listen to John Mayer's "Waiting on the World to Change," and then decide on their theme and format and write.  I always offer a model of my own. This is what I wrote for them -- and for me, and anyone who cares to listen.

Among the Joshua Trees: A Lesson in Slow Change

In 1990 I visited Joshua Tree National Forest when I was in California. I didn’t know until I arrived what a Joshua Tree was. The photo above was taken when we first entered the park, and I got so excited seeing these unusual trees: spiky, slow-growing, with branches that rise up. The tree was named by the Mormons who thought of the tree as Joshua from the Bible reaching his hands to the sky. The Joshua Tree lives in arid conditions and depends on perfectly timed rains to keep it flowering and growing. They are not in a hurry, and grow for a very long time – up to 300 years. They live amid other desert flora and jumbo boulders of red stone.

Now this is 2020, and I find myself living in an arid time. I am without my classroom, without the ability to have natural connections to my students, filling my days looking at the computer. This is as dry as it comes for a teacher.

So I turn to the Joshua Tree. I am reminded of the hope and strength it symbolizes. Its changes are slow. It is not in a hurry.

Most of us are feeling like we’d like an end date to this pandemic. We want to return to our gatherings and classrooms and be able to buy groceries without fear.

But here in the desert of life today, there is no time frame. There is no end date. There is only the will to survive in tough conditions, to see it through, one small change at a time, until the future becomes the present.

In Florida we are used to our swamps and rains. We are used to things growing quickly, green and glorious.

But today we are in the forest of Joshua Trees – spiky, slow moving, and raising our hopes to the sky.

It is an uncomfortable place.

It is a place of grief.

In the hardest times of my life, I have looked to a symbol to help me through. Today I turn to the Joshua Tree. It is the symbol of Endurance because it grows without sufficient water. It is the symbol of Strength because it overcomes unfavorable conditions, and has the power to make progress against all odds. And finally, it is a symbol of New Beginnings. It has the ability to produce leaves, flowers, and fruits.

The Joshua Tree is a concrete image for me, one to remind me I need to look to my own life and see what I can produce in this dry time, this quarantined life.

It has been stated more than once that we will come out of this time as different people. I think that could be true. But only if we endure, find strength, and see this as a way to a new beginning.

I am keeping the spirit of the Joshua Tree inside of me, as I face times of disappointment, resentfulness, and worry. When those feelings arise, I will see it as a chance to change my vision. Turn to endurance. Turn to strength. Turn to a new way of seeing things. The gifts given by the Joshua Tree.

The fruits and flowers will be realized one moment, one turn of a thought at a time.  I vow to do this for myself. I vow to do this for others.

With the Joshua Tree by my side, I believe I can make it out of the desert, into a new future yet to be imagined. This is the essence of slow change.

I will make it. We will make it. Together.

30. Cerebral Patience

#64Challenge

In common things that round us lie

Some random truths he can impart,

--The harvest of a quiet eye.

                                                      --William Wordsworth

"Your ability to focus will be your most important skill." 

(From "20 Big Ideas 2020" by LinkedIn)

A gift I received at the beginning of this break was found in a conversation with my friend Annmarie. She told me about a book called Proust and Squid by Maryanne Wolf, which discusses the processes our brain goes through when we read. She promised to lend me the book when she was done. But that wasn't going to be soon enough for me. I immediately searched some things online to learn more deeply about all the pieces that twine together to create comprehension. I was immediately fascinated. And I purchased a book by Wolf called Reader, Come Home: The Reading Brain in a Digital World.

This book is a series of letters that delves into what happened to the writer after she published Proust and Squid, asking and attempting to answer how our reading brain is changing, for good and bad. I'm not even going to try to pretend I can explain all this. Suffice to say the early letters explain how each word we read sets off a chain reaction in our brain, what she refers to as a three-ring circus. It is complicated and ambitious and yes, a little hard to follow.

But it got more interesting to me when I got to letter #4 "What Will Become of the Readers We Have Been?"  Again, lots of questions and diving into how much we read (more than ever), how we read (lots of word spotting and skimming), what we read, and how things are written. In other words -- every aspect of our reading and writing lives has been affected by the digital age.

The short of this is that with all the skimming we have trained our minds to do, we are not using our working memory as much as we used to. Herein lies the danger -- not having the patience to do the hard work of reading, because we've adapted to making it quicker and easier, both in how we write, and how we read.  We no longer take the time to apply the "quiet eye" mentioned by William Wordsworth -- a practice of focus and attention that is getting lost.

And it goes beyond our reading lives. Wolf says: The future of language is linked both to the sustained efforts by writers to find those words that direct us to their hard-won thought and to the sustained efforts by readers to reciprocate by applying their best thought to what is read (p.85)  It reminded me of my last post about my reading life in 2019, where I reflected on my reading and found myself saying: It's a joy and a delight and I am grateful to every writer who has the courage to get their books in print. I will do my best to uphold my end as a reader!


As a writer myself, I am not taking this reading issue lightly. As a reading teacher, I can't afford to.

But the eye-opener here is what came next. Wolf describes her own "case study." She decided that after years of fast reading, she would pull a beloved book off the shelf, one she loved in college by Herman Hesse, and give it a read. She found immediate frustration with the long sentences, the complexity of thought and text, the effort it took. She found she simply could not read it, and put it aside.

Later, she realized she didn't want to give up on her book "friends." She gave the Hesse book another try -- but this time, took it slow.  By applying the quiet eye, allowing for some cerebral patience, she was able to recapture her love for the book, for the meaning it invoked, and what it had to offer. She discovered that her problem had been trying to read too fast.

This reminded me of last February when I got the book Unsheltered by Barbara Kingsolver from the library. I knew I only had two weeks to read it, since there was a wait list at the library. It was 464 pages, and I had a full work schedule. But I was determined. I set to work, making a keeping a schedule that would help me get through the book. And it wasn't an easy book, by any means. It was the longest book I read all year and, in Kingsolver fashion, had at least five different archaic words sprinkled through the text I had to look up. There was a lot to absorb, and couldn't be read quickly, even though I was on a tight schedule.

When I completed the book (a day early, if I recall correctly) I remember feeling ecstatic. I had taken on a challenge in the past I would not have done. Many times I've started books only to return them by the due date unread. The other part of this is that I was delighted with the dual stories that were presented, and felt smarter for it.

After reading Wolf's experience with Hesse, it got me thinking about that experience -- how I set my mind for two weeks to a task that really worked my brain, every day, because the goal was important to me.

But then I looked at my reading list, and had to chuckle. After that experience, the deep reading with a quiet eye for a dozen days or so, I see I followed it up with three youth novels, two that were written in verse. I also read a popular fiction book, a beach read it would be called. It was like the workout of Unsheltered left me in a place where I just needed a break!

So...has my reading brain changed?  I'd say it has. I can see it. But I am also learning that there are times for fast reading, and times from slow, and it is up to me to discern which.

The implications for me as a teacher -- well, a lot of that remains to be seen. I have seen kids read large books and then say they want something easier, and I've always supported it. The cerebral patience it takes for large books can be daunting. I think of the kids who read nothing but Wimpy Kid and Dork Diaries type books. There is a lot of debate between teachers on whether to wean them off of those books -- and I've tried at times, rarely with success.

Knowing what I know now, about the need for some focus and attention on reading, the fact that our distracted mind and desire to read everything quickly is detrimental in the long run, I believe I need to find ways to make this knowledge part of how I approach my teaching in reading and writing (because some of my writers just want to write fast and not really delve in.) I want to remember how writers choose their words carefully, put everything in for a reason, and consequently help inspire my readers and writer to develop some cerebral patience. It is a worthy cause in a changing world.

The bottom line -- there is a time for word spotting, and a time for a quiet eye. Probably the best thing I can do is teach myself as well as my students how to balance the two. It's an exciting adventure and a new semester. I've got work to do!

24. November Motto and More

#64Challenge

Keeping Focus

This was a week of ups and downs. Today I am not willing to dwell on the things that were upsetting or irritating. Instead, I'm celebrating a couple small successes I'd like to remember.

This is my chosen motto for November. I need to remember to be diligent on where I put my time and attention. This week I found myself getting off-track needlessly, and it didn't produce good results.

However, there were some good moments as well.

 A True Writer

Every now and then a student shows up in my creative writing class who really has the chops. This year it is a girl named Monroe -- a 6th grader. When most students are turning in clumps of nonsensical stories with nary a hint of punctuation, Monroe presented me with an 8-page story perfectly written and nearly perfectly punctuated. In addition, the story included a girl who was actually an alien. Monroe found an "alien translator" online, and included it in her story. Look in the middle of this block of text:

 I told Monroe I hope she will come back to creative writing class in the rest of her years at CLMS and share more of her awesome writing skills.  A real inspiration, that girl!

Letters

My reading classes are continuing with The Bridge Home, the Global Read Aloud, and three classes are pen pals with classes in Indianapolis. The students were to write letters to introduce themselves, describe some things they like to do, and then talk about their favorite character in the book.

In my 8th period I have a 7th grader I'll call Theresa. She is extremely quiet, takes her time with her work, and in general is a wallflower in class. When I gave the writing assignment out, I told them they could handwrite or type. Most kids typed their letter.

But not Theresa. She wrote nearly a full page (some kids barely got 5 sentences, even with typing.) She came up to me, saying how much her hand hurt from writing, but very excited to share her letter. In fact, she was bubbling over so much she started telling me what she wrote rather than letting me read it. She told all about her family, pets, and the family business -- a nail salon. Her excitement over writing a letter to a totally unknown person floored me. I now know her mode is writing. She is probably not going to be one to speak out.  But put a pencil in her hand, give her a topic she is passionate about, and wow!  I'm looking forward to the day she (and the rest of the classes) receive letters back. For a generation that knows little about this kind of communication, it is a delicious surprise.

13 Ways of Looking at Color

It started with a memory of doing "13 Way" poems based on Wallace Stevens "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird."  I thought it might be a cool culmination for my 6th grade advanced readers to do after we finish Talking Earth. (We are in a unit about survival, and the 6th grade is taking a trip to the Everglades, so I thought it would be useful for them to know about the Seminole people, since I have found any knowledge of Native Americans is severely lacking in our students.) I knew I had assigned this type of thing in the past, and I thought I had created a guide for it. That is what I went looking for in my document folder.

What I found was something I forgot all about, and haven't seen in years. It was a poem using the "13 Ways" model that was to reflect some aspect of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. This was their final assignment when we studied the novel in Junior English.

I think you will recognize the name of the author. Since back then most work was submitted handwritten, I typed it out because I knew it was a keeper. I did not find any other "13 Ways" poems, nor did I find the guide I had assumed I made. But no matter. This was a gift from the past. And #9 really got to me...

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Color

By Tyler Peterson

I.

Throughout fifty unified states

lies the colored stitching

that holds it together.

2.

We see as split eyes.

Like a chameleon

viewing equal as opposite.

3.

United we change favors

as the reptile morphs colors.

4.

A man and a woman

Are human

A man and a woman of color,

remain human.

5. 

I do not know, truly, the difference.

There is beauty in black,

as there is beauty in white.

Living the same as

we do die the same.

6.

Blood flows in the veins,

one color.

Blood spills on our unified land.

Earth has no preferred taste

for blood

of either color.

A colorblind planet.

7.

Men of color

and men lacking

dream of serenity in heaven the same.

If such a place exists with color as no mention

And Earth, blind to color

why is color relevant to man?

8. 

I know the taste

Of the red and green apple.

I know, too,

The blossom of the tree that bears them,

Dreams of harmless fruit.

Then where does the green hatred

for the red

Really bloom from?

9. 

When man expires

Color is not his legacy

But the influence he had,

is in how he is remembered.

10.

At the sight of shackles

holding any man

Even in a land of purity,

Any man would cringe.

11.

A symbol traveled across the Mississippi

on a wooden raft.

Terror pierced it,

knowing of the threat

of the peace in its contrast.

12.

The river is moving.

Society’s rotating gears of segregation

are combusting.

13.

The black man is the white boy,

By basis of intellect.

We will bleed for this cause,

We will burn for this cause,

As friends float happily downstream.

Cloudless

The final day of a lovely seventeen days off, I take myself to the beach.

Cloudless sky. Tide way out for the New Moon.

As I walk, I reflect on past Januarys...

2016 I was feeling a weird tiredness, which later manifested into shingles.
2017 I was on a steroid, puffing me up and causing a false sense of energy. Later, once off the medicine, I would crash hard for an entire month.
2018 I was still puzzled by the lupus diagnosis and waiting to see a rheumatologist, who all but formally dismissed the diagnosis on my first visit.

But this year...is cloudless.

** I have re-established my walking practice, and it is going great. I get out and walk about 10 miles a week. The thing is, I want to go. I don't stop myself.  But I'm also smart enough to take a day or two off each week, so getting back out feels like a treat.

** I am finding my way into areas of creativity which have been lying in the background, waiting to be rediscovered. This applies to my personal and professional life.  I have plans to slowly eliminate screen time for my life and get more "old school" in my plans. It's time.

** I have built a community of writers and reading teachers around me. It makes every day more worthwhile, sharing the journey with others committed to much of the same things I am.

** I wrote my first new mission statement in twenty years -- one that is designed perfectly to keep me focused in the right direction.

**These days off have enabled me to reflect more fully on the responses to the survey I gave my students in December. Their words point to what needs to change. The needs of each class are different, but there are some simple, proven things I can implement that will help across the board.

Losing a former student caused me to go back and find some words of wisdom the students in 6th period Advanced Placement Literature wrote. I take these words into the new semester with me.  I have just a little over 40 days left with each class.  May I push the clouds of misdirection away, and fully realize these words again:

Creative, bright, always outside the box.

Easygoing, yet analytical.

Thank you for caring about me.

This has been the best English class ever.

The way you approached everything made it more understandable.

I have learned more than I expected, plus my passion for writing has gone way up.

You're funny, smart, and real -- and that's what kids need.

Your class is one I find most useful for me outside of school.

You always try new things and make learning fun.

You create a very creative environment for your students.

This classroom is a safe and free place to express ourselves...many good memories.

Thank you forever, Class of 2013

Picking Up Where I Left Off

I have learned over the years that nothing we do is wasted. Yet, I'm always surprised when it happens once again, when something from the past shows up with more meaning in the present.

Such a thing happened this week.

REWIND

During my first year of teaching, I was still taking classes for the Teacher Immersion Program, one of them being teaching in my content area. I recall I wrote a paper answering the question: How do we teach creative writing yet still provide structure? I wrote about various ways to approach writing in the classroom, in which I included something called The Town Project I read about in Teachers and Writers Collaborative magazine.  That same semester I attended a Saturday workshop put together by the National Writing Project at Florida Gulf Coast University, and decided I would definitely apply for the NWP Summer Institute. This came with some additional commitment, as the Institute required I do a presentation on a way I engage students in writing in my classroom, and it would also give me college credit, motivating me to take the MAT and apply to grad school.

Yeah.  I was busy.

And I knew that I didn’t actually have anything solid to present.  After all, I was just a first year teacher. So with the time left, I decided to implement the Town Project in my classroom.

The Town Project, as written about by Robin Behn in a project called Capitol County, created towns in each classroom, and generated writing ideas based around a simulated real world community.  At the time I taught three double blocked classes (sounds like such an easy schedule now!), and I had each class name their town.  Each student created their persona – who they were in the town, preferably an adult so they could write from a different perspective. We had doctors, cookie factory owners, lawyers, dance studio operators, fashion designers, restaurant owners, and yes, one year I even had a hit man for the mob.  Students had the opportunity to run for mayor, write to people in other towns (never knowing who exactly they were writing to – names were secret outside the town), newspapers, brochures, magazines, and writing persuasive pieces about town issues. They also put on talk shows, news shows (complete with hilarious commercial breaks), Jerry Springer type shows, and even an American Idol knockoff. I had a parent who was a court judge, and she helped us set up a small claims court, and even volunteered her time to come in and hear the cases. I recorded many of these with my video camera so the kids could watch themselves afterward.

In other words – we had a blast.

Artifacts from my capstone project

The summer of 2005, I presented The Town Project to my NWP Summer Institute colleagues, and had other opportunities to present as well. The plan all along, put together with help from Dr. Patricia Wachholz, was to present at Florida Council of Teachers of English, which I did in the fall of 2006 as my capstone project for my masters.  I was supposed to write an article for professional publication, but somehow that never happened.

Fast forward to switching to high school teaching, where The Town Project didn’t really fit.  When I came back to middle school, I tried it with a 7^th grade class of intensive readers, but I was struggling that first year, and I don’t think I gave it a fair chance. Then I pretty much forgot about it.

THIS WEEK

This semester I’m teaching a speech and debate class that meets first thing in the day. I have twenty smart and motivated 7^th and 8^th graders, who progressed through the debate cycle quite well, debating violence in video games, school uniforms, standardized testing, and the need for homework. I knew we were entering the speech/storytelling portion of the semester, but I felt I had little time to think about exactly how to approach it.  My thoughts, when I had time to think, were all over the place.

Then on Monday we had the final speaker in the final debate. She did something I had not witnessed before: I knew she was nervous, because she had said so many times. When she got up, she was doing fine, but then started repeating lines. Then she went into this stuttering thing, and gave up. I had never heard anyone do that before, in all my years of being involved in public speaking.

This caused me to set aside some space and time in my life to really THINK about what to do with the speech class.  I did not want to put her through this again.  I know from experience that focusing on the needs of one student can open up possibilities for all students. So I concentrated my thoughts on how to approach things so to lessen her anxiety.

And I came back to The Town Project.

Interviews. News programs. Town Hall meetings. School Board meetings. Proposals for the community to consider and debate. The ideas flooded in.  All ways a student could practice a variety of speaking skills without necessarily having to be put on the spot.  Plus, she would be speaking from the perspective of a make believe person – hopefully making it easier.

I brought The Town Project idea to the class on Wednesday (not telling them why I came up with it), and they wholeheartedly embraced it.  We now have a town: Little Harbor. We have a mayor: Rachael Parks (elections were Friday, after all the candidates spoke). This week there will be interviews of the various town members, speaking their inspiring life stories or talking about something important they are promoting for the town. I have many more ideas up my sleeve, which I hope to share as we go along.

One of the things I like about this is that I will be teaching this course again next semester, and it will be meeting the last period of the day.  I know the motivation and the focus is not going to be as strong.  This means we will be doing The Town Project during fourth quarter – the best way to use end of the year energy. This is a win-win all around. I cannot wait to see what comes out of it.

And who knows?  Maybe I’ll finally write that professional piece!

Pictured below are some of the students who participated in The Town Project my final year at Gateway.