Monthly Archives: May 2025

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A Mentor What?

An opportunity to visit the nurse is the holy grail for many students in my classroom.

One day recently, M. had asked to head to the nurse more than once. Considering that she’d been bouncing around both in and out of the classroom, and was silly and smiling between strategic, puppy-eyed requests, I’d denied her repeated pleas. That didn’t deter her though, as clearly, persistence is one of the key traits needed on the quest to the Kingdom of Nurse.

As the day wore on, I wore down and M started to look a bit less bouncy. Maybe. Or maybe her persistence was paying off. At any rate, in a brief lull between requests, I realized I needed more band-aids. I decided to head off yet another request, and to kill two birds with one stone.

“M, would you be willing to go to the nurse and get some bandaids for the classroom? You could also mention to Mrs. G. that your stomach hurts and see what she says.”

M perked right up.

“Okay! Do you need big band-aids?” she asked.

“No,” I replied, “I just need the regular sized ones.” I held up the bag of bandaids and pulled the last three out. “This is the size I need. You can take the bag with you and ask her to fill it up.”

M. took the bag in her hand. She pivoted to leave, then paused and turned back to me. “Do you think I should bring a mentor band-aid?” she asked.

Mentor* what? …… Ohhhhhhh….the light dawned, and after that split second of confusion, I understood.

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” I said. She reached out and I handed her one of the bandaids, which she tucked into the bag. Then she bopped happily out the door and down to the nurse’s office.

I’m happy to report the use of a mentor bandaid was successful. M returned not too much later with her stomach ache mysteriously vanished, holding a bag full of the correctly sized bandaids.

*In case you’re not in the education field, a mentor text is a piece of writing that students can use for many different purposes. Often in our classroom we use mentor texts to explore how authors craft their writing within different genres and to get ideas of different strategies/moves we can try out in our own writing. In a nutshell, mentor texts can serve as examples to guide us. M. clearly has a full and flexible understanding of mentors!

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PF: A Late Response to the Challenge

Once again I want to send a huge thank you to Mary Lee for stepping in with little notice when I had to withdraw from my PF hostess duties two weeks ago. It sounds like word got around, and everyone managed to find their way to the correct site. Poets are so smart! 🙂

Unfortunately, I do have a good excuse for my unexpected absence, as I was unexpectedly sidelined by an emergency eye surgery. (I wrote a little bit about it in this week’s Slice of Life.) This meant, in addition to missing more than a week of work, I missed the opportunity to participate in the Inklings challenge from Linda Mitchell on that date as well. Now that I’m on a path to recovery (and able to read again!), I’m sharing my response.

First, a little context: Linda invited us to explore Whitney Hanson’s poetry. Hanson shares her work on TikTok and is known for sharing poems that “begin with, “in poetry we say…” In these poems, Hanson takes a common phrase we know in English and translates it poetically.” Linda went on to say, “I see an invitation to write in a few ways:

  1. Find a poem that you love to show how poetry translates English in a new way
    Or,
  2. Write poetry in a way that responds to the phrase, “in poetry we say…”
  3. Go rogue and respond to Hanson’s poetry in any way that makes you happy”

I chose door number two. As someone who is perpetually title-challenged, I’ll admit the fact that the structure of the poem essentially provides its own title is a huge plus to me. Unfortunately, now I’m not sure how to write a dedication line when there is no title. There’s definitely some irony there! Anyway, here’s my better-late-than-never response, written for my husband.

In English we say
you were there

In poetry we say
when all seems dark
it’s you I seek
your voice like a lifeline
at the other end of the phone
your hand an anchor
in the swirling storm

©Molly Hogan

If you’re interested in reading what the other Inklings did with this challenge, click below!
Mary Lee Hahn @ Another Year of Reading
Heidi @my juicy little universe
Margaret @Reflections on the Teche
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Catherine @Reading to the Core

This week Ramona has the PF Roundup at her blog.

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THWACK!

THWACK!

I flinch violently as something hits the window. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a blur of feathers bounce off the glass and tumble downward. I jump up and race over to the door. A small sparrow sits stunned on the stone step. I open the door to get closer and check on it. When I do so, it flies up onto a nearby perch on the rugosa roses. That’s a good sign, but I imagine it shaking its head and thinking, “What the hell just happened!?”

I always feel awful when this happens, and I want to protest. “There are decals on the window! Pay attention!”

But I imagine the bird was caught up in flight, lost in its world, unaware of possible danger, until…THWACK!

I wonder if it will be okay. How it will move forward into the day. How long it will take to recover from the impact. Will it fly more carefully in the future–perhaps hesitate to lift off from that secure branch? Or will it launch itself joyfully into the air, thankful to still be able to fly?

I empathize with the bird. A lot. About two weeks ago, I hit my own sort of window, at least figuratively. I was teaching my class toward the end of the day. Everything was fine. Until it wasn’t. Suddenly there was a black line snaking across the vision in my right eye. Within moments, it looked like someone had scribbled over the world in big, thick lines with a black marker. Within about 5-10 minutes, that had faded away, and essentially only light and shadow remained.

It turns out I’d had a sudden retinal tear that required emergency eye surgery.

THWACK!

Suddenly, my world changed.

My husband says, “What happens to the mind, happens to the body. And what happens to the body, happens to the mind.”

Suffice it to say, it all threw me for a loop. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

I’m on a good path to recovery now, and am grateful for oh-so-many things: my family, my colleagues (who had to write my sub plans for over a week!), having two eyes, visiting friends, medical insurance, access to health care, paid leave, compassionate surgical staff, etc. Oh, and over and over again, I was deeply thankful for the beauty that surrounds my home. So many birds and various creatures flew and ambled through my yard during my long days of not reading, not driving, not bending or lifting, etc. When I wasn’t huddled on the couch, eyes closed, seeking to lose myself in an audiobook, I was most often looking out the windows.

Ultimately, I don’t see the sparrow take off from its perch, but when I look later, it’s gone. I’m going to assume there was a happy ending. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have one, too, but I’ll admit, right now I’m keeping a cautious eye out for unexpected impacts. You just never know.

Of course, chances are, I won’t see it coming. (Thwack!) But if it does come (and something surely will, because…life), chances are also good that I’ll have the support and resources to deal with it. So, I’m moving a little tentatively through my days right now, but I’m seeing the world through a lens of gratitude. And these days, I’m also beyond grateful for all that I can see.