What was I thinking?  I’ve hopped straight from one writing challenge into another.  During conference week!  I should know better, but I was enjoying the Slice of Life Challenge so much that I got carried away and in a burst of enthusiasm signed up.   I’m also supposed to figure out how to put the above badge in my sidebar and link back to the hosting blog. Way too complex for me right now. (Thinking in complete sentences is way too complex for me tonight!)   I’ll just put that item on my growing to-do-as-soon-as-possible-after-conferences list.

The reality is that two twelve-hour plus days during conference week following a March writing challenge have drained the creativity pot. I can muster a bit of physical energy to actually sit in front of the computer, but the mental energy is just not available. So, for tonight, with my apologies, mark me present in body, but absent in spirit.

Slice 31–Last day of the challenge!

One of my students arrived a bit early this morning.  His mom dropped him off in our classroom as she was subbing in our building for the first time.  He was bright and cheerful, full of plans for the day and chatty as could be.  He kept up a running commentary as I finished up some last minute prep; sending a few quick e-mails, jotting down some last-minute notes for parent-teacher conferences, gathering pattern blocks for a math lesson, finishing up an anchor chart, and setting out morning work.

“I’m the first one here today!  I’m going to get out all the chairs for everyone….You know what my mom asked me today?  She asked me what she should wear and I said, “Wear what you want.” and she said, “No, I want it to be appropriate for school.”…”Now I’m going to get them their long dates.” …”You know what my mom says when I do something bad?  She says, “Wah! Wah! Wah! Wah!”

He continued on for several minutes in the same vein, requiring no real contribution from me, when out of the blue, he said, “Mrs. Hogan, your job is really easy.”

“It is?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, “I was thinking your job is really easy.  All you have to do is tell people what to learn.”

Oh.  Good thing he cleared that up for me!  😉

Day 30

CRASH!
BANG!
BOOM!
Yes, that’s me
hitting the proverbial writer’s block
with a vengeance
Liberal handfuls
of Skinny POP Popcorn
(Open mouth…
insert…
GOBBLE!
GOBBLE!
OINK!)
have not improved
the situation
But hey,
It was worth a try!
Why is it that the clock always ticks
LOUDER
when deadlines loom?

TICK!
TOCK!
TICK!
Time’s up!
Turn in your work.

Day 29

I ran today for the first time in a long time.  When I run, I notice my surroundings but also pay heed to my inner voices.  It’s a time for mental house cleaning.  Often I consider what I might write about—the thoughts that have been lingering, churning and inviting or demanding a deeper examination.  Other times I merely focus on the sensory feast—the cold air burning my lungs and whipping color into my cheeks, the stretch of my muscles, the thud thud thud of my feet hitting the pavement accompanied by the whooshing sound of my working breath.

Today I was optimistically looking for signs of spring as I ran.  Instead, along the edge of the road I saw shards of red and amber glass, a wrinkled package of cigarettes, a broken branch stabbed into the earth, paw prints, a discarded beer bottle.  At first I was discouraged by the trash, carelessly strewn along the dirty snowy berm and by the lack of any hint of impending spring.  But then it struck me that within each piece of trash or debris resides a kernel of a story.

The branch.  Perhaps it was javelined into the earth during the heart of a winter storm.  Did someone lying awake one night hear its mighty crack and fall or did it jolt someone awake with a shot of adrenaline?  Or was it unacknowledged, muffled by the falling snow and howl of the wind?   The empty cigarette pack.  Was it thoughtlessly discarded or perhaps flung out a car window with another desperate vow to stop smoking?   The broken bits of automotive glass hint at yet another tale—someone driving in a hurry after an argument, or racing against curfew, on the brink of violation.  Or maybe it was simply icy, bad luck or a visitor unfamiliar with winter driving.  There are stories here, potential treasures to be found among the trash. 

I continued running, putting one foot in front of the other, wind-whipped and weary, watching and thinking, finding stories along the side of the road.

Day 28

It’s Saturday morning and my kitchen is a mess.  You know those people who usher you into their homes (or their classrooms for that matter), saying, “Oh, sorry, it’s such a mess”?  And you look around and wonder what they are talking about.  Like maybe there’s a cup on the counter or one stray paper on their desk.  Maybe. Sometimes I don’t really like those people, because now when I say my house is a mess, people think I exaggerate.  I don’t.  I won’t show pictures or give elaborate descriptions because I’m concerned some well-intentioned citizen might call Health and Human Services.  Just take my word for it.

At any rate, I woke this morning, picturing my kitchen as it was last night before I went to sleep.   I was pretty sure that the Dish Fairy hadn’t made an unexpected overnight appearance.  (Around here that Dish Fairy is as rare as the Laundry Fairy!)  You might think I’m about to complain (and you have reason, based on a few whiny slices), but I promise, I’m not. 

I lay in my bed for a few minutes, enjoying the leisurely start to the day, idly petting my cat, thinking about my kitchen and planning my attack. I  briefly thought about googling what product I could buy to remove the baked-on crud from the top of my stove.  (The fact that I don’t know should lend credence to the honesty of my initial statement.)  I imagined myself stacking dishes, shifting mail, wiping down (scraping, chiseling?) surfaces, plunging my hands into Dawn-scented soapy water. Somewhat to my surprise, I realized that I was beginning to look forward to it.  

There’s something concrete and therapeutic about cleaning the kitchen, creating clean shiny surfaces from disorder and debris. (And, yes, use of that word debris, with its overtones of rubble and dirt,  is both deliberate and accurate.  Now do you believe me?) After a week of mounting work and stress at school, I was anticipating digging into a task I could actually complete and seeing visible results. I couldn’t wait to get started!

So, have a great morning.  I know I will.  I’m breaking out the Dawn and I’m off to the dishes!

Day 27

Springtime in Maine always makes a leisurely arrival and this year it’s been especially slow.  A-g-o-n-i-z-i-n-g-l-y slow.  However, while driving to work this morning, I realized that I’d overlooked some recent signs of spring.  In the last few weeks, seemingly overnight sometimes, bright splotches of orange have appeared in the landscape.  Not flora nor fauna, but bold orange signs stating “Frost Heave” or the more succinct, often understated,     “Bump”.  Yes, it’s spring, New England Style. 

These signs and the uneven pavement are an indication that something is happening. Perhaps it’s the earth trying to shrug off this last layer of snow, heaving it up along with the asphalt.  At any rate, it’s a yearly precursor to spring and a sign that winter is releasing its icy grip on the land, so I’ll take it!

Driving at night, when the orange signs are less visible, the bumps and heaves cast deep shadows, giving wary drivers a bit of forewarning.  Savvy local drivers will suddenly, proactively, swerve into the opposite lane to avoid known trouble spots.  Those who are unaware or unobservant, are doomed—or at least the undercarriage of their car is.  Scratches along the top of especially vicious frost heaves bear mute testimony to previous victims. 

With my awareness and my new perspective, I drove home today, erratically changing lanes, my car rising and falling on these erratic washboard hills, smiled and thought, “Ah, spring is coming!”

Day 26–only 5 more to go!

Last night’s pity party is over!  Boot straps are firmly in place and reinforced.  Today is a day to actively seek the positive.  With that in mind I decided to keep a list of all the positives in my day (and to periodically sing or hum “Accentuate the Positive” as necessary.)  I am happy to say that I accomplished both and whilst I didn’t record myself singing, my list of positives follows:

1. It was 37 degrees this morning!  That sure beats the 9 and 7 degrees that were recorded earlier this week. Perhaps we will have spring after all!
2. I had time to read a few slices before leaving for work this morning—interesting and inspiring, as always, and a wonderful way to start the day. 
3. I remembered to remove the trash bags from my car.  This may sound trivial but it is a major accomplishment.  Each Thursday morning I put the trash in the back of the car to drive it to the end of the driveway and leave it there for pick up.  My driveway is not that long, but clearly it’s longer than my short term memory.  Approximately 40% of the time I remember to stop and deposit the bags by the side of the road and then I award myself my mental gold star. The other 60% of the time the trash accompanies me to work and sits in my car… all… day… long.  Ew. 
4. Gael Lynch gave me some great feedback when I expressed some regret and embarrassment about my on line pity party post.  Thanks again, Gael!
5. I have a wonderful colleague who decided to turn Thursday into Thankful Thursday.  Every Thursday.  For The Entire Year!  She writes individual comments to everyone in our wing and leaves them at their desks with a small chocolate token.  Today’s comment was such an upper!  Thanks, Erin!
6. My reading lesson was engaging and successful, too!
7. A student from another first grade class was coming out of Library today and called over to me.  Beaming ear to ear and clutching a Magic Treehouse book, he exclaimed, “I’m checking out my first chapter book and I already read the whole first page…WITHOUT STOPPING…and I can’t wait I’m going to read it on the bus and then I’m going to read it at home in the peace and quiet!”
8. I confiscated a note as my class went into specials.  It read, “I cant toke be coes my tooth hrts it’s not wegle can I have the papr aftr you red it.”  Translation:  I can’t talk because my tooth hurts.  It’s not wiggly.  Can I have the paper after you read it?”  Why is this a positive?  Because this is one of my most challenged spellers and he spelled tooth correctly, finally put the e on have and used a contraction with an apostrophe!  Woohoo!
9. Read aloud!  I love, love, love read aloud and I especially love reading Lulu and the Brontosaurus.  Such fun!  Lots of laughs and great book talk!
10. Being a bit overdramatic at some point today, I said, “Phew!” several times in a row, with accompanying gestures.  A student called out, “Hey, that reminds me of Kevin Henkes.”  “Why?” I asked, a bit puzzled.  The student responded, “You know… How he repeats things.”  Mentor authors in action!
11. On the way home the fog was hovering low over the ground and as I rounded a corner, there was a solitary deer, delicately picking her way through the snow.
12. I’ve just written my 26th blog post in a row!  What a wonderful experience this has been.
13. Oh, and one more.  Did you notice?  I used the word “whilst” in my writing.  Having a British principal who is inclined to do so with great regularity inspired me!  I feel so cosmopolitan! 

Above is my optimistic attempt to embed a video of Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters singing “Accentuate the Positive”.  If it works, consider it officially added as number 14 on my list!

From where I sit I see my glass of Malbec…half empty.  It’s my second glass.  I usually have only one, if that, but tonight feels like it warrants two.  It’s been one of those weeks.  I’m tired and grumpy and I’ve run out of steam.  It’s a half-empty moment.

Today my brain feels saturated with to-do lists that won’t quit, schedules that won’t stretch, and way too many demands.  At school it’s write this, plan this, schedule this, organize this, and don’t forget to assess both this and that followed by scoring, entering, and more planning.  My desk, which has been pretty tidy for about 2 months, is in crisis mode.  Sad to say, my house is not much better.  So at home, the demands continue.   Don’t forget to call her back, pay that, schedule this, empty that, clean that, unload, fold and organize it all.  Oh, and don’t forget the FAFSA update!  There’s no respite.  My profile picture should be Edvard Munch’s Scream.  Ahhhh!

From where I sit, I see way too many rebukes.  Piles of unopened mail, mounds of unmatched socks, debris, and clutter. Bags of schoolwork filled with papers, dutifully toted home, but untouched.  Even my unpetted cat who lies, curled and resigned, next to me.   I can’t keep up and I just want to run away and grab a book and sink into my amazing, wonderful bed, burrow under my mound of feathered blankets and wave the white flag of surrender.  I give up!  I can’t do it all.  But for right now, I take another sip of Malbec, sigh, and open my up my e-mail account.  What do you do when you keep pulling yourself up by the bootstraps and your bootstraps are threatening to break?

http://www.mouthmag.com/issues/58/number58.htm

I love words
Love playing with them
twisting them
this way and that
Love the way
certain words
sound when they
pop with p’s
or crackle with k’s
Preposterous, pumpkin,
cantankerous,  cranky
I pucker up with the p’s
and spit the c’s,
peppering my conversations
with friendly shrapnel
z’s invigorate
zipping and zinging
adding pizzazz
And the b’s of bellicose
bawdy
byzantine
blast through my lips
and burst in the air
Words, Words, Words
I could play all day

Day 23 of the Slicing Challenge

Several months ago I was in a writing class and a woman wrote a beautiful, moving piece about her granddaughter.  Within this piece she wrote an off-the-cuff disparaging allusion to “those pastel people,” comparing them to others more bold and vivid.  Clearly this was not a reference to their clothing color preference, but more an indictment of their personalities.  I admired her craft, and this clever line, the concept and the casually contemptuous tone lingered with me.

I turned this idea over frequently, and initially, I bought into her view.  I mean, who doesn’t admire someone who is bold, vibrant and eye-catching?  Someone who makes an impact. Pastel colors are b-o-r-i-n-g.  But then, it hit me… right between my pale blue eyes.  I am, for the most part, a pastel.  Part of this might be my temperament and certainly part was my upbringing. 

In my family there were many spoken and unspoken rules about how to behave, but there were always rules.  I was raised to be helpful and never to make waves.  Not to make a bold statement.  Never to clash or draw attention to myself.  As a result, my siblings and I had lovely manners but didn’t necessarily know how to speak up for what we wanted or needed.  Good lord, we might inconvenience someone if we expressed a simple preference, so too often we didn’t. Stay in the background.  Smooth things over.  Don’t rock the boat.  Follow the rules.  In essence, be pastel.

The more I thought about this color-based personality analysis and my pastel category, the more I found myself demurring*—not with the overall concept, but with the dismissive tone.  Pastels aren’t merely “washed out” or “nearly neutral”  or just plain boring.  While they don’t have that “zing” factor, they have hidden depths.  Pastels provide balance, promote relaxation, and can be more subtle and nuanced than bold colors.   They soften the edges, soothe and calm.  These are pretty important functions.

 So,while part of me will always long to be bright, vibrant and bold, and to take the world by storm, it’s really not my nature.  And that’s ok.  I’ve come to terms with being pastel.  

* Merriam-Webster defines demur as “to disagree politely with another person’s statement or suggestion” —definitely a pastel way to dissent!