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SOLC Day 26: Fun With Phonics

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 26
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

We were examining the ways to spell the “cher” sound, with the aim of introducing the “ture” ending. Students were contributing lots of ideas and we had a running list on the board, in two columns:

“ture”
nature
future
adventure
creature
picture

“cher”
teacher
bleacher
pitcher
catcher

Our list was longer, but this gives you an idea. Toward the end of our word gathering, a student called out, “What about amateur?”

“Yes! That definitely has the “cher” sound,” I said. “It comes from a French word, I think, so it’s spelled a different way. I’m not positive how to spell it,” I confessed, “but let me try and see if it looks right.”

amateur

I wrote it on the board and looked at it. “Hmmmm….I think that’s right.”

At that point, another teacher entered the room. We immediately consulted her, and happily she confirmed my spelling. As she left with a few students, I asked the remaining kids, including the student who’d volunteered the word, “Do you know what amateur means?”

They did not, so I explained that an amateur is someone who doesn’t get paid for what they are doing. They usually do it a lot and enjoy it, but aren’t paid. We talked about a professional versus an amateur in sports. The kids nodded sagely.

The next job was for them to write silly tongue twisters on sentence strips using as many words with the “cher” sound as they could. They had a fantastic, giggling time writing things like: “Don’t take a picture of my teacher in a bleacher.” or “The creature in the bleacher took a picture of my teacher.”

Toward the end of our work time, C. came up to me and proudly showed me his creation. It was only then that I realized I hadn’t fully explained the meaning of the word “amateur.” I forgot to include the second part of the definition: “a person who is incompetent or inept at a particular activity.”

I’m still not certain if his sentence was a subtle insult to me, or an indictment of the teacher pay scale. I’m pretty sure, though, that it was just an innocent misunderstanding. Either way it’s hanging on my classroom wall with all the others, loudly proclaiming to all visitors:

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SOLC Day 25: Whiplash Weather

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 25
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

Friday:
It was a rainy, raw day and we spent both recesses inside, a rare thing indeed. As we were cleaning up from lunch recess, a student shouted, “Hey! It’s snowing!” A tidal wave of kids rushed to the windows to watch, oohing and aahing over the sight. Even in Maine, where snow is a frequent occurrence, the wonder of it never ceases. 

We returned from lunch to even larger flakes tumbling from leaden skies. Big clumps of snow exerting another large gravitational pull to the windows.

“Those aren’t snowflakes! They’re snowpuffs!” L declared. A few students giggled.

“Yeah! Snowpuffs!” they repeated. 

“The snowpuffs descended to heaven,” L stated dramatically. He’s not one to play with words, so this was an unexpected, if a little confusing, delight.  

His peers were certainly impressed with his wordplay.

Saturday:

Walking in the yard, listening to the birds, I stumbled upon a purple jubilation of crocuses in the front garden. A burst of glorious color.  I knelt to admire them, my heart lifting. A small moment of promise and hope.

Sunday:

The day dawned fair and bright. It was so lovely that the winds came out to play, tossing the trees about and sending clouds scudding across the skies. “Feels-like” temperatures feel into the teens….along with my inclination to go for a hike.

Monday:

The day began with worry. Would there be a snow day? An early release? They were calling for snow to begin in the late morning. Would we be able to go on our field trip? 

Happily, the weather cooperated (at least momentarily), and we did manage to squeak in the trip to see a top-notch production of “A Year with Frog and Toad”. 

After we returned to school, the flakes began to fall almost immediately . By the end of the day, all after school events, including the first night of Parent Teacher conferences, had been cancelled. The drive home was white-knuckled and extended.

I later learned that two of our school buses were involved in accidents. Thankfully no one was injured, but I’m sure there were some seriously frightened students. 

Spring in Maine is quite an adventure. Who knows what today will bring!

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SOLC Day 24: Personality Insights?

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 24
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

Earlier this month humbleswede mentioned something about his Myers-Briggs type. Hey, I’ve got one of those, too, I thought. I dimly remembered a long ago session of completing the survey, and discussing the results. I had absolutely no recall for what they were though. 

Motivated to unravel the secrets of my personality (since apparently I didn’t pay enough attention the first time around), I got up and started digging. First, I looked in a likely spot (the file box) and within minutes (Wonder of wonders! Miracle of miracles!), there was a drab looking manila folder, neatly labeled Myers-Briggs, in my hand. 

I opened it up and pulled out a pile of papers. The top one, slightly yellowed and crisp, read: “Your results from the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator.(MBTI)” My eyes skimmed quickly down the page, looking for the big reveal. Ah….there it was! “YOUR TYPE CAME OUT INTJ.”

Clearly, I didn’t pay much attention when this was revealed to me back in (I take a quick peek) 2004, because I really can’t remember what any of that means, except I’m pretty sure the “I” means introvert. And that tracks.

So I start to look a little deeper. There’s a handy summary on the back, titled, “Brief Descriptions of the 16 Types.” INTJ reads: 

“Logical, critical, decisive INNOVATOR of ideas; serious, intent, highly independent, concerned with organization, determined and often stubborn.” 

I sit with that for a minute. It doesn’t feel quite right. I’m not so sure about that “innovator of ideas” thing or the “highly independent.” Also, anyone who ventures into my classroom, might legitimately question the organization part of this. I will agree with stubborn –as will my husband. And my fourth grade teacher. (Maybe I should write a slice about how that teacher commented that I could be as stubborn as a mule…on my report card! In his defense, he’d first written about how he’d had a really good dream of having a class full of students just like me, and how wonderful that would be… It now occurs to me that my recently composed report card comments were a little bland.)

I flip back over to the front page. It states that the MBTI  it reports a “person’s preferred ways of attending to the world and making decisions.” There are four scales with pairs of opposite preferences: Extraversion and Introversion, Sensing and Intuition, Thinking and Feeling, and Judgment and Perception. Each has a quick explanation, and the examiner had marked where my preference lay. For example, on the Extraversion-Introversion scale, I had a clear preference for Introversion. Like I said, that tracks.

But as I continued examining this page, here’s the most interesting thing I noticed. Next to each completed scale, the “examiner” had noted how many questions I’d omitted answering. Overall, I’d chosen not to answer 16 questions. What!?? How many questions were there? How accurate could these results be? Also, isn’t that very fact perhaps the most telling personality characteristic of all? Ironically, I’d omitted the most questions on the scale that ended up marking me as showing a clear preference for Judgment, which in part is defined by “acting by organizing, planning, deciding”. 

Well, I guess I’m going to have to look to other sources for the definitive insights into my personality. Can I get a redo of the MBTI? Or maybe I’ll try Enneagram? Any other ideas out there?

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SOLC Day 23: Tuning in

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 23
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

click click click

The sound pulls me out of my notebook. Is that a bird call of sorts or a bird rebuke? Do I need to fill the feeders?

I tune in. The Carolina wren doesn’t disappoint, releasing its buoyant call, and seemingly within moments, bird song erupts from all over the yard. It crescendos and soon there is a full chorus of song. A burst of trills and calls before the sun has even cleared the horizon. This joyous morning spring chorus never fails to make me smile.

I take the hint and move outside to fill the feeders, then remain outside to watch the wren. It perches atop the tangle of wisteria vines. Periodically, it tilts its head back and sings, a full feathered vibration from head to tail, its entire body engaged in song making. (Click on the photo if you want to hear its song!)

Every morning I have a front row seat to a free symphony. All I have to do these days is tune in. So I stay outside, in my robe and slippers, and let the bird song wash over me–my shoulders relax and shift downward. The omnipresent weight of stress lightens and drifts away. I listen to the wren, and watch the aerial parade of birds–cardinals, jays, mourning doves, titmice, juncos, chickadees, nuthatches, house finches, and more! Beneath the feeders, the gorgeous russet fox sparrows scratch through the leaf litter. I thrill at the sight of these infrequent visitors.

Then, through the trees, I see a flash of white and a muscular pulse of large wings. Is that an eagle? I walk slowly over to the side yard and Yes! It is! I watch a bald eagle settle into the top of a nearby pine. Standing there, I hear the call of geese, now winging northward, and watch their V fly overhead through a crisscross of overhead branches.

Eventually I wander out back and see a flash of blue. Oh! A bluebird is at the birdhouse. Will he nest? He pokes his head in and out, scoping out its potential. I marvel at his indigo feathers and warm rusty chest.

A quick glance reveals that the eagle departed while I wasn’t watching. Meanwhile, the Carolina wren continues to sing. It’s changed its location, but I can still hear it, and the red bellied woodpecker calls repeatedly from the tall trees in the front yard. I can’t see either of them now amidst the tangle of trunks and branches. Still, the knowledge of their presence, and their song, is a gift. When I take the time to listen.

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SOLC Day 22: Jersey Day

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 22
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

My hands remain empty.

It’s a small thing, right? Nothing to get upset about. My Patriots shirt is a poor substitute, but it could work. Even if it’s not what I want.

But where can it be? 

I yank the clothes off my closet shelves, quickly sorting, refolding, searching. 

Where is it?

Where did I go?

It’s bright blue. It shouldn’t be hard to find. 

I wrack my brain trying to figure out where I put it. It has to be here somewhere.

In his obituary it stated, “a lifelong and frustrated fan of Detroit sports teams.” And I’m sure I wrote a poem once, in gratitude to the Lions for the distraction they offered him as he wasted away.

Kurt surprised me with this jersey the Christmas after he died. This jersey I can’t find. I sobbed when I pulled it out of the box.

Giving up my search as time runs out, I quickly search for that poem on my computer (I know I wrote one! Is that lost, too?), and somehow his obituary pops up.

And suddenly…there’s his face.

Oh.

My hand lifts as if to touch the screen.

“I miss you Dad,” I whisper.

Later, I step into the rainy morning wearing the Patriots t-shirt. But what’s missing weighs me down.

All. Day. Long.

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SOLC Day 21: Dress Like a Teacher Day Revisited

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 21
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

Back on Tuesday, I wrote about my student, R, who dressed like me on Dress like a Teacher Day. You can click to read that post, or here’s the summary: She was planning how to look like me and after talking about hair, earrings, etc. suddenly, to my surprise, asked me if I “wear bras.” (I think it’s much funnier in the longer version!) Anyway, I happened to run into her mother today at school.

“Oh, how did you like R’s attempt to look like you on Dress Like a Teacher Day?” she asked.

“She was great!” I said, “I have to tell you what she asked me.”

“Oh my God,” the mom, said, interrupting, “I know! She told us! I almost wrote you an e-mail to apologize!”

I laughed. “It was fine,” I said, “and it definitely made me laugh later.” ( I did not feel that I should mention I’d written a blog post about it!)

The mom continued, “I was like ‘R, was there at least any context when you asked her?’ and she thought for a few seconds and then was like, ‘No’.”

“She’s so funny! There definitely was context. She was making her plan on the way out to the bus, talking about straightening her hair, wearing dangly earrings, etc.” I gestured at my as-always dangling earrings.

“Oh, I know all about the plan,” laughed the mom. “We had to figure it all out. But I told her she shouldn’t have asked you that and she just shrugged. Then she said, ‘I guess she’s just not a bra-wearing kind of girl!’ “

“What!?” I exclaimed.

“My husband and I were dying!” she said.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure how to respond in that moment. I wanted to protest “I didn’t tell her if I wore a bra or not!” but that seemed a bit ridiculous. And, just for the record, I didn’t respond to the original question, and I’m not quite sure how R made that determination. (The mind boggles.) But she’s a kid with strong opinions and no hesitation stating them.

“Well, good to see you,” I said, and hastily made my retreat.

Thank goodness spirit week ended today!

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SOLC Day 20: 5 Things I Did Instead of Writing My Slice

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 20
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

I couldn’t wrap my head around creating a blog post draft last night and this morning wasn’t much better. Here’s a list of what I did instead of writing a blog post.

  1. I spent a lot of time repeatedly cursed the cat as she insisted quite vocally on going outside and coming inside. And going outside and coming inside. “Just ignore her!” I can hear some of you thinking. Well, you don’t know my cat. She’s deceptively cute, but if you do know her, she’s intimidating on a good day and scary on a bad one. When she’s inside and wants out, she starts prowling about and yowling. She’s been known to strike unprovoked. So I let her out. Good riddance! But, when she’s outside and wants in, she perches in the window and scratches horrifically at the glass. SCREEECH!!!! SCREEEEEEECH!!! There’s no winning this battle.
  2. I saw a new e-mail from Brad Montague in my Inbox. The title caught my eye: “A Funny Thing Happened on My Way to Being “Ready”: Revealing Who You Are Even When It is Embarrassing.” So I read that (and it’s well worth the read) and contemplated becoming a paid subscriber. I love his posts, but will I actually find the time to read them all?
    https://bradmontague.substack.com/p/a-funny-thing-happened-on-my-way?utm_source=post-email-title&publication_id=1301215&post_id=159268976&utm_campaign=email-post-title&isFreemail=true&r=1ys61&triedRedirect=true&utm_medium=email
  3. Then I remembered Brad Montague’s short video story about Space Bear and spent five minutes or so trying to find it again so I could get a little hit of happy. Then I watched it multiple times. You can, too! (You’re welcome.)
    https://www.tiktok.com/@bradmontague/video/7368656853242219818
  4. Next, I remembered that somewhere on line, I’d stumbled upon a group called Big Night Maine yesterday. This group heads out in the spring to help amphibians survive road crossings. I checked out getting certified, joining a local volunteer in their “patch”, and overall, just spent way too much time investigating and looking at the map of nearby sites. I’m very tempted to do this…But heading out around 8 pm!? I need to consider carefully…
  5. Finally, I wrote a list of all the things I could have been slicing about and wasn’t. (Maybe I will later?) It’s funny how certain things feel like a good idea, but just don’t pull you to write about them in the moment. I mean, why haven’t I written about getting stuck in the car wash this month? Or about my serendipitous sighting of a woodcock yesterday? Or about the repeated notes from one of my students? It’s a mystery!

So, that’s what happened this morning instead of writing a slice. Except, I suddenly realized I could write about it and, more or less, turn it into a slice. Funny how that works!

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SOLC Day 19: Another Slice from Spirit Week

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 19
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

I arrived at the cafeteria to pick up my class from lunch, and A. raced up to me. “G. has lost her voice!” she announced as dramatically as G. could have hoped. “She can’t talk at all!”

“Oh,” I responded, “Well, I’m sure she’ll be fine. Thank you for telling me. Find a spot in line.”

Inside of me, a small Hallelujah chorus erupted. 

A few moments later we were back in the classroom for Quiet Time and G. approached.

“Can A. go with me?” she asked, in a gruff whisper. 

“What do you mean?” I asked, suspecting I knew where this was might be heading.

“To the nurse,” she continued, “so she can explain about my voice. Since I can’t talk.”

Side note: I deserve an honorarium for the amount of time I spend deterring kids from visiting the nurse. I honestly do. My mantra is that you go to see our overworked nurse if you’re “broken, bleeding or barfing” and that’s about it. But, many second graders LOVE nurse visits and aren’t averse to wearing down teachers either.

“You don’t need to go to the nurse,” I reassured her. “This isn’t an emergency. Just make sure to drink plenty of water.”

G. looked at me. I looked back steadily. Slowly, she walked away. 

A few minutes later, she approached again with a note in hand. She handed the note to me and pointed repeatedly at her throat.

“I can bairly speek I basikly can’t! It is just getting worse!”

“G,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face, “the best thing you can do is to rest your voice. That’s what will make it better.” 

She slumped away, the very picture of dejection and misery. But fear not, as G. is unwavering in her pursuits, whatever they might be.

She approached soon afterward with an additional few sentences tagged on to her original note.

“It won’t worck it will just get worse plus I’ve already tryed resting it.”

“No, G,” I said gently. “You aren’t going to the nurse.”

Side note: Lest you think I’m heartless, please be aware that within 10 minutes of Quiet Time ending, G. was fully and verbally engaged in a collaborative drawing task with her group. It was a miraculous recovery!

And here’s a little more context….

Flash back to the beginning of the day, Day Two of Spirit Week, otherwise known as Dress Like a Teacher Day:

G. burst into the classroom.

“I’m Mr. L.” she announced happily. “See!” She pulled at a lanyard around her neck and pointed to the whistle hanging from it. 

Sidenote: Mr. L, our PE teacher, does not wear, and never has worn, a whistle on a lanyard around his neck. 

Additional side note: I immediately wondered if I had somehow offended her parents. 

G and I had a few discussions about the use of said whistle. Actually, it was pretty much just one conversation that sounded like: “If you blow that whistle again in the classroom, it will need to go into your bag and stay there until you’re back at home.” Honestly, after that, it went much better than I expected. I did notice it was often in her mouth (which kept me on my toes), but she didn’t blow it again.

Now, flash forward to the end of the day:

I was telling my colleague about G’s lost voice. 

“Oh!” she said, “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you!” She started laughing.

“What?” I asked.

“Well, at recess, G. blew her whistle. Mrs. M. told her she couldn’t use it any more. G. then began to screech loudly, apparently attempting to imitate the sound of her whistle. At full pitch. Over and over and over. Finally, she came up to me and told me that her throat hurt and she’d lost her voice. I explained that’s what happens when you try to sound like a whistle.”

We both laughed and shook our heads.

Spirit Week throws a wild card into the week. Tomorrow is Western Wednesday. I’m already wondering what that will bring into the classroom…

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SOLC Day 18: Spirit Week

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 18
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

Spirit Week used to be less frequent and I liked it more. Somehow it’s become a regular feature in our school calendar and like Ebeneezer, I sometimes want to say “Bah Humbug!” The kids, of course, love it and these days, it’s actually the Middle School Student Council who comes up with each plan.

Monday was easy as it was Green Day in honor of St. Patrick’s Day. Today, Tuesday was Dress up like a Teacher Day. 

On Monday afternoon, R. was eyeing me oddly as we headed out to wait for the buses. 

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I’m going to be you tomorrow,” she announced.

“You are?” I asked.

“Yup,” she said, “I’m gonna straighten my hair and wear glasses. Oh, and I’m going to keep these dangly earrings in.”

“Well, I do love dangly earrings,” I replied, touching my finger to the ones I’d worn that day. 

“Or maybe I’ll wear hoops instead.”

“You know,” I said, “I don’t think I ever wear hoops. I might not even own a pair. The ones you have in now are pretty fun and dangly though.”

“Yup,” she continued, ignoring my contribution, “I’ll probably wear hoops.” 

We continued our walk down the hallway.

“Oh, and Mrs. Hogan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wear bras?”

(That sound you just heard was the echo of my jaw hitting the ground…from yesterday.)

“What?!” I asked, then continued, “R., that is not an appropriate question to ask someone.” 

She giggled. 

Another student piped up, “You know that inappropriate word that R. just used?”

I hastened to clarify, “It’s not an inappropriate word, it’s just not an appropriate question.”

“Well,” she said, blithely continuing, “I just call them spaghetti straps.”

Thankfully, by this time we’d reached the doors and I shooed both of them out toward the buses, my head still spinning. 

Today R skipped into class. Her hair was straightened. She was wearing big hoops (no big surprise!) and she had on a pair of lens-less glasses. She wore leggings and a turtleneck, which, let me assure you, is not my look.

“I’m a mini you!” she announced.

“Wow! You sure are,” I responded. 

Let me note for the record that I did not ask if she was wearing a bra! 

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SOLC Day 17: Fog

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 17
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

On Sunday morning, I woke to fog. Air drenched with moisture. The world leached of color. All shadow and nuance.

The presence of fog creates absence. Fog suspends time, masking the advance of the day. It mutes the hum of distant traffic. Softens bird song. Fog is an audible hush. It creates a new space within existing space, blurring boundaries, circling inward. It poses questions about beginnings and endings. It elevates the ordinary into something more, something mystical. Fog prickles our senses. And, even as it blurs contours, fog brings the world into focus. Fog creates absence that opens up space for more presence.

So I left my desk, stepped out into the morning, and into the fog.

Who am I to deny an otherworldly invitation?