March SOLC–Day 17

When did kids start setting traps for leprechauns? This wasn’t a “thing” when I was young and my own kids didn’t do it. When did leprechauns become such a big deal? This year my first-grade class has gone leprechaun-mad!  I should probably have anticipated it, as in February the talk and anticipation had already begun.
“Mrs. Hogan. You know why I love March?”
“No, why?”
“Because the leprechauns come!”

On Monday after reading our weekly poem about a “lively little leprechaun,” conversations burst out all over the carpet.
“I caught a leprechaun once! I found him under a bush.”

“You can use a tissue box to catch leprechauns. It’s easy!”

“We set traps in Kindergarten and the leprechauns left sparkles and gold coins around the room!”

“Are we going to set leprechaun traps, Mrs. Hogan?” The volume dropped to zero as all heads turned in my direction.
“Um…no.”
“Oh.” A sea of crestfallen faces looked up at me. I felt set up. Gee, thanks, K teachers!

One boy piped up, contributing this longer and more mysterious story to a rapt audience, (and thankfully turning their attention from their buzz-kill teacher):

“Last year I set a trap with my brother. We put a box up and under it was a potato because leprechauns love potatoes. And we put a trail of shiny pennies to it. Cause they like gold. And the next morning…the trap was closed! But…” he paused dramatically,
“…we didn’t catch the leprechaun! And…”
another dramatic pause punctuated with a small giggle,
“he changed the potato into a… pear!”
His audience of spell-bound first graders gasped.
Clever parents! I thought.

And then to top it all off, at snack time one of my students approached me.
“Mrs. Hogan, do you want to see my leprechaun dance?”
“Well, of course I do!” I said.

She promptly launched into some sort of hybrid Celtic-Russian seizure dance with her long braids flying, legs kicking this way and that and her arms swirling about her head. After a moment, she stopped, breathless, pink-cheeked, and beaming.

“Wow!” I said, (As Kevin Henkes would say, “Wow. That was just about all she could say. Wow.”)”Where did you learn that?”

“Oh,”she replied, “I just made it up,”

You’ve got to love first grade!  I can’t wait to see what today brings!

March SOLC–Day 16

“Hey, Mom, look what I found,” my son called, entering the kitchen.  In his hand was a small green hard cover book. “It’s that book Addie wrote about Mrs. _______. I’d forgotten  all about it. You should check it out. It’s pretty funny.”

My son, Connor, is graduating from college in May and has been cleaning his room out. (I’m not ready to tackle that slice yet!) During this daunting task he has stumbled across a variety of treasures. This time it was the book that his younger sister had written and dedicated to him. This book was inspired by Connor’s deep dislike of one of his middle-school teachers. (She really wasn’t very pleasant.) He must have regaled Adeline with complaints and stories and she was clearly inspired. She titled her book Mrs. McNasty and published it with an Illustory kit that someone had given her. Here are a few highlights:

 
She made her claim and started supporting it with evidence.

She’d clearly mastered speech bubbles! And how about this ending?

And then the finale:

I have read this multiple times since Connor found it and it never fails to make me laugh. I love the illustrations and the speech bubbles and the ending cracks me up. In terms of writing, she’s got some good stuff going on. On the other hand, part of me is horrified that she wrote this about a teacher. I’m still not sure how in the world we agreed to send it off for publication.

March SOLC–Day 15

In my classroom Monday’s Morning Meeting greeting is always a Weekend Share.  Yesterday, as usual,  students chose the one thing they did over the weekend that they wanted to share with the class.
“I rode my bike down Plummer Mill Road.”
“I saw Zootopia and it was great!”
“We went out to get an ice cream cone.”
“My hens started laying eggs again.”
“Wow!  Did you notice how many of these things are early signs of spring?” I asked afterward.
“Yeah,” the kids agreed, nodding.
One chimed in, “It’s getting warmer, too!  That’s another sign!”
“And the leaves are starting to come out on the trees!” piped up another.
“Maybe I should put up a piece of chart paper and we can jot down any signs of spring we see, ” I said. ” What do you think?”
“Yay!” The kids agreed with enthusiasm. (They’re always excited to write on a chart.)

So, our chart is up and we’ve been sharing and jotting down some early signs of spring. As the class excitement has grown, I’ve realized this is a simple way to encourage my students to see their world and to notice the changes in it. We can then use these “noticings” when we launch into poetry next week. I think our first class poem might highlight these first signs of spring. Stay tuned!

March SOLC–Day 14

Years ago I came up with the term “Productive Procrastination.”  This is the term I use when I have a million things I really should do, but opt to do other things instead. Now, the critical difference from simple procrastination is that the things I choose to do instead must be productive;however, sadly, they still don’t eliminate anything from my To-Do list.  For example, if I have a stack of math assessments to grade, I might clean the bathroom instead. Or maybe bake cookies. Or weed in the garden. The math assessments are still looming when I finish, but I still got something productive done. It’s a bit twisted I suppose and it usually ends up ultimately adding to my stress level, but it’s what I do. On the plus side, there’s always the perk of a clean bathroom, a weeded garden, or cookies to eat. Yesterday, I was a master at Productive Procrastination.

Yesterday I should have: finished report card comments, finished entering grades, written a thank you note, organized tax papers to send to my accountant, and written lesson plans.

Here’s what I did instead:

 Hmmm….everyone’s home for spring break. I bet they’d enjoy a nice breakfast. It’s still early.
So I…

Whipped up some blueberry pancakes and bacon for breakfast

It’s going to be a crazy week. I should make sure I have something yummy for lunch. I’ll start working on comments after this.
So I…

Made a batch of spicy peanut noodles

Oh!  Look at this recipe. I forgot all about this salad. I could start grading science notebooks but if I make this now, I’d have two choices for lunch this week.
So I…

Threw together a wild rice edamame salad

Let’s see. If I throw potatoes in now to bake, I could make Twice-Bakeds for dinner. We haven’t had those in a long time!  I still have time to get some work done later.
So I…

Cooked up some Twice-Baked Potatoes

Wow!  Look at all this food. But there’s nothing sweet. Hmmmm….it’ll only take me a few minutes to make some granola bars. I could even bring some to work and everyone would be so happy!
So I…

Mixed up a batch of my all-time favorite granola bars

And then…

Wow!  It’s gorgeous outside. It would be a shame if I didn’t get outside today.  It’s supposed to rain later this week and I’m sure I’ll have renewed energy to tackle grades when I get back.
So I …

went for a quick run.

Did you notice the brilliant rationalization along the way? Can you tell how much I didn’t want to face report cards and taxes?  So, tonight I’m doomed!  But my lunches will be great this week!  That’s classic Productive Procrastination.

March SOLC–Day 13

Each year when sunlight is a rarity in our northern clime, the chickens stop laying eggs. I could use an artificial light, but I opt not to. My totally-unscientific theory is that perhaps they will lay eggs for longer if they have a winter respite. Last year,  prior to what we dubbed “The Fox Fiasco”, our chickens were free-ranging. It was hard to determine when the first egg was laid. We first knew they were laying again when we found a nest tucked into a corner of the barn overflowing with multicolored eggs.

This year the remaining chickens are cooped and it’s easier to keep an eye on things.  After the aforementioned Fox Fiasco, our flock is down to three aging chickens. (Don’t ask me how the fox knew which ones were young and tender, but they were clearly targeted!) I had retrieved two eggs over the course of last week, so I knew the girls were laying again. (Yay! Yet another sign of spring!)

Yesterday morning I hastened through my chicken chores. I slopped fresh water in their bowl, topped off the feeding tank and carried on our regular conversation. It goes something like this:

“Good morning, Chickies!  It’s a beautiful day! How are you today?”
“Bawk.”
“It looks like you were thirsty. Here’s some nice, fresh water.”
“Bawk.”
“Enjoy your day!  I’m just going to check for eggs.”
“Bawk! BAWK!” (I swear the pitch and volume changes on that response.)

I opened the door on the other side of the coop to check out the egg situation. And here’s what I found:

A bounty of beautiful eggs and a double yolker to boot! Can you see it?  What an eggs-cellent haul! After a few words of praise: (“What a good job, Chickies! You have been busy! I’m impressed!”), I gather up the eggs, head into the house to clean them off, and tuck them into their temporary cardboard nests. Spring is surely one step closer. Scrambled eggs anyone?

March SOLC–Day 12

The birds seem frisky this morning. Bluejays dance across the lawn, posturing, wings fluttering, involved in some sort of elaborate avian flirting. A pair of cardinals swoops from arbor to apple tree and then zooms off into azure skies. The slate-colored juncos flash their bi-colored fantail of feathers and swoop and swirl. Even the sun rose enthusiastically today, splashing brilliant red on the horizon, blazing through the winter-bare trees.  Everything seems more energetic.  Spring is coming!  My eyes are drawn to the window again and again. I am yearning to get outside and join in the festivities but sternly remind myself that I need to be disciplined. Spring is coming but so are report cards. Sigh.

March SOLC–Day 11

This poem was my attempt to have a bit of fun with one of the less than appealing symptoms of aging. (If you’re under 35 and/or male, you may not be able to relate.)

The Battle

There once was a hair on my chin
undetected when first it grew in
I noticed it there
Adrift in the air
And yanked it out with great chagrin.

Another one grew on my cheek.
(It happened in less than a week!)
I pulled that one too
without great ado
But with a full bellicose shriek.

It’s said that in some far-flung places
Facial hair adorns women’s faces
But I can’t sport a ‘stache
with elan or panache
I vow to remove any traces.

My tweezers now flash through the air
Extracting each invading hair
There is not a thing cute
’bout my face so hirsute
I battle with growing despair.

Each day my reflection as mirrored
Shows renegade hairs have appeared
My expression is grim
As I tweeze and I trim
Not resigned to displaying a beard.

I continue the gods to implore
to vanquish these whiskers galore
They’re more apt to dispatch
A peach-fuzzy soul patch
I win battles but never the war.

Molly Hogan (c) 2016

For more poetry got to Poetry Friday Roundup at Irene Latham’s blog, Live Your Poem.

March SOLC–Day 10
I hesitated about sharing this and still have some reservations. I do NOT want to wade into political waters and I tried hard not to do so. But I also know that it’s important to write about those things that linger in our hearts and minds. And what I heard on the radio yesterday has lingered. So, I’m taking a deep breath and posting.

Though I vote regularly, I hate politics. I’ve given up listening to the radio on my morning commute and picked up a pile of audiobooks at the library. Rather than tuning into the unrelenting coverage of coarse and vulgar political discourse, I’ve chosen to listen to a thriller featuring an Israeli assassin group. Really it seems much more civilized. But tension was building in my thriller this morning, I was getting stressed anticipating the imminent violence and having to lower the volume to “skim” through those scenes, so I clicked it off and turned back to NPR. I tuned in just in time to listen to a broadcast about some recent basketball games in the midwest, the so-called Heartland of America. Sounds innocent enough, right? In retrospect, I should have continued to listen to my audiobook.

Here’s the scene. Two midwest towns. Two high school basketball games. Two disturbing incidents. Four days and 400 miles apart. Both games involved one team that was heavily minority and another that was not. During one game one team brandished photos of Donald Trump and chanted “Trump! Trump!” and “Build a Wall! Build a Wall!” at their heavily Hispanic opponents.  During the other game, there were no signs, but “Trump! Trump! Trump!” was shouted over and over at the minority team.

I am bone-deep disturbed at the image of high school students chanting hatefully and using a presidential candidate’s name to intimidate and insult. Is this what today’s youth is learning from our political process?  I am appalled that political candidates have been modeling divisive, argumentative and crass interactions rather than demonstrating how to create a meaningful, civilized dialogue. Where is their sense of responsibility?

My colleagues and I often remark that the dialogue in America’s political arena would not be acceptable in our classrooms. As I pulled into the school parking lot today, deeply disturbed by what I had heard, I was struck again by about how important the work is that we do with young children everyday.  We work so hard to teach our students to get along, to accept each other, and to solve disagreements respectfully.  We teach tolerance and empathy. We say, “You don’t have to be friends, but you can still be friendly.”

My school has invested a great deal of time and energy into developing a cohesive school-wide approach to peer-to-peer aggression and to building a positive culture that supports and includes all students. “We don’t do that here!” is our school’s refrain when faced with inappropriate behavior, like persistent taunting, name-calling, and intimidation/threats. (And, yes, there are protocols and rubrics in place when that is not sufficient.) With scenes like those basketball games and recent political events in mind, I want to stand up and proclaim “We don’t do that here in America!”  But sadly, right now, it appears that we do.

March SOLC–Day 9

Circulating around my classroom during Readers’ Workshop, I stopped to listen in to a partnership of three.

Sitting in the middle, J was reading smoothly and then stopped suddenly at the word “celery”, her brow furrowed.
She reread, “He chopped the …..” She frowned, concentrating.
“Kel..ur.. eye? Kelureye?” She shook her head.
One partner (Partner 1) said, “You can use the picture.”
“I already did that!” she said. “There are only onions.” She pointed to the word. “That’s not onions!”
“Well, you can look at the whole picture. Like this part here.”
They looked together, pointing.
“I see carrots.”
“Those are potatoes.”
“I don’t know what that is.” (Of course it was very indistinctly illustrated celery.)
Partner 1 continued, “Maybe you can think about what’s happening in the book.”
Partner 2 spoke up, not unkindly, “I know what it is, but I’m not going to say.”
J said, “That’s because partners don’t tell, they help!”
“Well,” Partner 2 said, “You can try two sounds. Remember c can make two different sounds.” She paused and then said in a sing-songy voice, “Sometimes it sounds like another letter.”
J looked at the word again. “sel.. uh.. ree….sel.uh.ree…celery!” Her face lit up. “It’s celery!” she shouted triumphantly!

After congratulating them on all their hard work, I left the group, smiling. It’s lovely to see readers work and grow together.

March SOL Challenge–Day 8

Yesterday was one of those days. When my kids were little and had a bad case of the “can’t help its”( when nothing was right with the world and whining and tears reigned), we’d say, “If they’re crabby, put them in water!” And we’d pop them in the tub. It was pretty much a no-fail intervention. They loved communal tub time and 3o minutes in the tub got rid of the grumpies and some sand, dirt and general crustiness as well.

So  last night when I came home from school feeling as surly and prickly as a sea urchin, I took my own advice and headed for the tub. Book in hand, I filled the tub with steaming water, shut the bathroom door, and shut out a less-than-fulfilling afternoon in the classroom. It had been one of those days. Lessons felt awkward or unfocused, students were off task, even a bit sassy, and my stress level hovered in the red zone. A looming teacher visit, approaching grades, conferences, umpteen meetings and the general work load just felt like way too much. So to detox, I headed for the tub.

Back in those long ago days when my children were young, I also headed to the tub for stress relief. I’d hand the kids over to my husband and sneak to the bathroom with my book. What followed inevitably went something like this: I’d immerse myself in the tub and feel the stress begin to recede and my breathing begin to deepen. Ahhh. Then someone’s little footsteps would patter down the wooden hallway.
“Mama?”  Bang! Bang! Bang!  “Mama?”
“Mama?  Mama! Mama! Mama! Let me in!” Bang! Bang! Bang!
Then, my husband would yell, “Leave Mommy alone!” and
Thud.  Thud. Thud. come remove the child from the door. Crying ensued and quickly amped into screaming. Sobbing.
“Mama! Mama! Mama!”
In the bathroom I would close my eyes and sink slowly down, down, down into the tub. Until my hair floated in a cloud about my head. Until the water seeped up, over and into my ears, muffling all exterior sounds, and then lapped at my cheeks.
Patter. Patter. Patter.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Mama!”
Relaxing it wasn’t.

Last night I was able to sit in the tub and read for as long as I wanted. No small hands beat at the door. No warbling voices called for me to let them in. My hair stayed dry and the house was silent. I let the stress of the day ease away as I steeped in hot water. It was wonderful…but also not. My surliness evolved into sadness. I miss my babies.

It was just one of those days.