March 2019 SOLC–Day 28
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 tend to arrive early at school, so I get to see parents dropping off their kids at the before school program. Often younger siblings are there for the drop off, and I really enjoy watching the family interactions. I also love getting a quick dose of toddler!

One morning this week, I was headed to the copier.  A little boy, maybe three and a half years old, was airplaning happily down the hallway, arms outstretched, blissfully ignoring his mother’s reminders to “watch out!” I deftly moved out of the way, avoiding a near collision. He zoomed along, oblivious, a big smile on his little face. I smiled back at him and then at his mother.

“Crazy driver!” I laughed.

She rolled her eyes.

“I wish I had a little bit of that energy,” I said.

“Don’t we all!” she replied, hurrying after him, another young child on her hip.

As he neared the congregation of bus drivers waiting to leave on their morning route, the little boy turned into their midst. One older driver held up his fist for a fist bump. Slowing down slightly, the boy planted a big smacking kiss right on the man’s knuckles, and then he revved up and kept on going. The driver grinned, clearly surprised and delighted, and the boy headed out the door with his mother hot on his heels.

March 2019 SOLC–Day 27
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

Sometimes we manage to grab a little bit of time at the end of the day for a community circle. I often pose a question and we send around a talking piece, taking turns answering whenever we get the piece. I’ll pose questions like, “What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” or “If you could have any superpower, what would it be and why?” Sometimes students contribute ideas for questions.

One day not too long ago, we gathered at the carpet.

“Ok,” I asked. “Would you rather eat a worm or an ant?”

After the initial hubbub died down, I responded first, “Ant.” Then I passed the talking piece, pretty sure that “ant” would be the dominant response.

The next student asked for some clarification. “Is it raw or cooked?”

I hadn’t been expecting that, but answered decisively. “Raw.”

“Darn,” he said. “Well, I guess ….. ant.”

We continued around the circle. I was fascinated by the additional clarifying questions and the rationales behind different choices.

“I think I’ll choose an ant, because probably I’ve already eaten some and didn’t even know it,” said one student.

“Do you have to chew it?” asked another. “Or can you swallow it whole?”

Hmmmm…That was a tough one. After some discussion, we decided no chewing was required.

“I think I’ll swallow the worm then,” she responded. “Without chewing!”

“I would definitely swallow the worm,” said the next student. “I’d just slurp it down like a piece of spaghetti.”

“Ew!” we all chorused.

In the end, much to my surprise, the class was pretty evenly divided. I’m still sticking with my choice. Definitely an ant.

Which would you choose?

March 2019 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

They come with increasing frequency now. Bold. Intrusive. I’m always on the lookout, determined to be the first to spot them. My eyes scan the familiar terrain, examining the likely spots, determined to oust any intruders. I cock my head one way then another, intent on my mission.

Wait! Is that one?

I lean in even closer. Staring intently. Focused and determined.

Not on my watch!

Yes. Right there. Just barely in sight.

Sneaky little devil! 

With my implement of destruction in hand, I lean in closer and, with a swift, careful movement, I deftly grip the intruder.

Aha! Got ya!

I pull. And pull! It holds firm, resistant….until…finally! Success!

There in my tweezers is one thick stubbly hair, plucked from my jawline.

I thrust it viciously into the trashcan.

Victory is mine!

March 2019 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

In Maine, March is a bit of an endurance contest.

By March
the snow only whispers
of its prior glory
it’s arrival as hypnotic drifting flakes
is but a dim memory
leached into its present incarnation
styrofoam snow
pale, stale
far from its origin
tenaciously clinging
to winter

©Molly Hogan, 2019

Friday morning’s snowfall refreshes the stale snow, beautiful and simultaneously depressing.

March 2019 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

“Good morning,” I say as the desk clerk motors by, clearly rushed and heading back to his post.

“Good morning,” he replies. Then continuing past, he mutters at me, “I live in interesting times.”

My eyebrows raise, but I don’t respond. This is a man on a mission, with no time for small talk. He putters about the desk, grabs a few things and flies back down the stairs. I imagine he must also be setting up the breakfast area.

When we spend the night in hotels, I often find myself spending early morning hours in the lobby. I’ve learned that I enjoy my mornings more if I’m not trying to write on the bathroom floor to avoid disturbing whoever’s traveling with me. Usually that person prefers to sleep past 4:30 am, so I slip out of the room, notebook and laptop in hand, and head to the lobby. It’s typically quiet and peaceful, and I enjoy writing in a new place.

Suddenly, a man pops through the door from the long hallway leading to the hotel rooms.

“Do you know where the man is?” he asks.

His hair is close shaven and he’s small and wiry, wearing an athletic jersey emblazoned with Fleury 29.  He pushes through the door into the lobby, a bundle of energy. If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging and he’d be doing that whole body “Oh!!!  A human friend is here!!!” wiggle.

I assume he’s talking about the desk clerk.

“I think he’s downstairs getting breakfast ready,” I reply.

“Oh, ” he said, looking around and then looking at me again. “What do you do around here?”

“Oh, I don’t work here. I’m a teacher, but down south in Durham.”

“What grade do you teach?” he asks.

“Fourth.”

“Fourth grade?”

I nod.

“I was a crazy student,” he says.

Really? Somehow I’m not too surprised.

I open my mouth to respond, but Fleury 29 continues.

“You know Ritalin these days? Well, my teachers didn’t  know what to do with me. They used to have me walk around the room on my hands. Again and again and again.”

Ummmmm….

“Then, I moved to Ethiopia because of allergies.”

What?! Ethiopia? Allergies? What?

“You got time? ” he continues. ” I got stories. I would have been the most interesting student you ever had!”

The desk clerk emerges from downstairs, and Fleury rapidly turns and asks him for a broom and mop, then launches into some convoluted explanation about why he needs these in his room. I’m still envisioning those handstands and trying to figure out the relationship between allergies and Ethiopia, so I only catch their conversation in bits and pieces. This is a man who needs a pause button. 

The desk clerk sets off to get the requested items, assuring Fleury he’d bring them to his room shortly.

“Take your time. Don’t run,” he replies.

“I kind of have, too,” the clerk mutters under his voice, rushing off.

“See you later!” Fleury says to me and heads off, gone as rapidly as he’d appeared, presumably to return to his room.

The clerk reappears a few minutes later.

“Sorry if he was bothering you,” he says, gesturing to the door through which Fleury had exited.

“Oh, no,” I say. “He was fine.”

“He’s part of my interesting times,” he says with feeling.

Later, at breakfast I see Fleury again.

“Fourth grade, right?” he calls across the room.

“Yes.” I smile and nod.

“I could tell you stories!”  he repeats, then continues. “I got a lot of scholarships. My neighbors helped me out, because they used to watch me doing backflips and half gainers out of my mom’s second story window into the snow banks.”

What? Scholarships and half gainers into snowbanks? I can’t really figure this one out either. It is as mystifying as Ethiopia and allergies!

“You teachers,” he says. “You do a lot.” He pauses. “Thanks. I know it’s not easy.”

I start to respond, but he is off on another story. I just listen and nod, smiling, thoroughly enjoying myself.

I suspect that this is a man who always lives in interesting times.