SOL19 Slice #31 Falling asleep

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A BIG, BIG THANK YOU!! to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect!!

I did it, we did it - 31 days of SOLSC! Yay, us! 

What should be the topic of my final blogpost of the month? I decided it has to be my granddaughter, Frog.* She gives me such joy and inspiration, why not end the month with a little more sharing about her?

Today, I had the precious joy of watching Frog fall asleep in her bassinet, through the baby monitor. (Oh my, how technology has changed since I had babies...having a camera in the room, to see with your own eyes what is going on...this is amazing.) I had prepped the room for her nap, drawing the blinds so that the bright sunny day wouldn't peek in too much, and turning on the noise machine so that she could listen to the soft sound of waves rather than our voices in the next room. Then I laid her down in her bassinet, slipping her into her sleep suit, and popping her pacifier in her mouth. I tapped the pacifier a few times with my index finger, while stroking her hair with my other hand, and whispering sweet wishes, "Have a good nap, my sleepy one." 

Then I slipped out of the room, and over to the monitor. I was curious - how does she settle in? I watched her touch the pacifier, pull it out of her mouth, put it back into her mouth a couple times. So sweet. At five months, she is just figuring out all the possibilities that hands can do. Then she seemed to get a bit bored with this and took the pacifier out of her mouth, and held it straight out at the side of her body, up in the air, studying it pensively, and singing a sweet song...oooooh, oooooh, eeeeoooooh. Her sweet coos lasted only a minute or so, when she simply let it go, dropping the pacifier into the bassinet, and immediately closing her eyes. Frog was asleep. Yes, really. Just like that!

What's funny is - I was purposefully watching through the monitor, with my notebook out, thinking, oh, this will be a good slice. I thought I'd have all these baby antics to describe. I thought she might fret and that I'd have to go in and check on her. I definitely thought there'd be more to it than two minutes of pacifier adoration followed by sleep. Ha! 

I told my son that I have no memory of him or his brothers being that easy about taking a nap. May it always be so!

I also think, wow - this little one instinctively takes good care of herself. I have a lot to learn from her.




Again, thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for this amazing month of writing and sharing. It has been very special to read and get to know other teacher-writers. It has definitely been a way for me to take care of myself. I have loved participating!!

*FYI - I've decided to write fictitious names for my loved ones - however clunky that may seem - in the interest of preserving whatever shreds of anonymity one really has in this world. I'm going to call my grandchild 'Frog' - I love frogs...as a spirit animal, they exemplify renewal, transformation, metamorphosis, and so much more. 

SOL19 Slice #30 Going far

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.


"If you want to go fast, go alone.
If you want to go far,
go together."
African Proverb

Yesterday I attended a workshop that provided an overview of restorative practice in schools - what these might look like, what they include, and why they are important. This morning, as I reflect on what I heard, and muse about how to share my experience with my colleagues, I am thinking about how truly complicated schools are. There are so many voices that should and must be included, and each of these voices is on their own developmental trajectory regarding progressive practices like restorative justice. Where to begin? Is it not unlike nailing down jello? 

We have students from age three to fourteen - preschool through eighth grade. We have families from diverse backgrounds, from all different wards of the city. We have middle class, poor, wealthy, black, white, brown, immigrant, special needs, homeless, LGBTQ, on and on and on and on. Each of these students has a family and these are so varied, too: children raised by single parents, two parents same sex, grandparents, foster families, mixed-race parents, older parents, young parents.... Every family has its own unique culture, their own beliefs about how their children should behave, how they should treat and interact with adults, and what discipline looks like.

We all come together in one school.

We have a diverse teaching staff, and each of us brings our own preset beliefs on how students should behave and be disciplined, on what learning should look like. Some of us are open to new ideas, some of us are so overwhelmed and busy that we resist new approaches and withdraw to the same old, same old, predictable world of our classroom, doing the things we know how to do already. Of course, teachers and administrators all have different levels of experience, too, which can lead to differences in the way a student's behavior is even perceived.

We all come together in one school.

Each of these individuals - students and adults - is on their own time-line at school - some spending only a year or a matter of months, some staying for many years. How to form a restorative community in the midst of all these moving parts?

We all come together in one school.

Let's think, too, about how we interact with one another as colleagues - are we restorative with one another? Are we open-minded and trying to listen to other perspectives, or do we avoid certain colleagues, because the divide, the differences between us, are simply too vast?

How can we adults, ill-equipped and human as we are, lead restorative practices? How does that even work?

We all come together in one school.

The reality is - there can be no other kind of community if you expect to have a successful learning experience with such diverse people. I can imagine no other way. Restorative practices provide a forum to hear from everyone, to hear the diverse voices. We have to teach children and adults about the responsibility each of us has to listen, actively listen, to one another. This is going to be a journey, a long process, one which everyone needs to be committed to learning and doing, despite preset beliefs.

We all deserve respect.
We all deserve restorative practices.
We all come together in one school.

SOL19 Slice #29 Restorative sliver

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Centerpiece with "talking pieces"

I find myself without a minute to spare today, and a panicky feeling that I cannot make a blogpost. Oh, but I must!!! It’s day 29 and I haven’t missed a day. I’ll spare you my jam-packed schedule and share notes from an excellent workshop I am attending about Restorative Practices in Schools. Here are snippets, almost a poem:

Circles let us see one another 

Everyone on the same level

Proactive approaches to build community 

Paradigm shift

Strongest human drive is compassion

Let’s have safety, belonging, and community 

Truth and reconciliation 

Listening from the heart 

Works best on the front end, preventing 

What do I want for my own children?

SOL19 Slice#28 Early morning jog

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

" 'I wish I hadn't done that workout.' - said no one ever!"

[Quote on the wall of my local Y.]

Gotta do this.
Come on!
Starting new habit.
Everything aches.

It is cold outside.

I can't find my warm jacket,

the one I wear for exercise.

My heel hurts.

These shoes feel tight.

My shoulders ache.

What if I make myself sick?

Can you get sick from running in cold air?

Maybe this actually hurts me?

Maybe I'm too old for this.

Out the door.

Ugh. Hmph. Bleck. 

I have no breath.

I feel stiff.

Geez, my run is a glorified walk.

Glad I wore my gloves and headband.

It is dang cold out here.

Why did I think I could do this?
I used to always do this.
That was then.
This is now.

Oh, look at the stars!

The moon!

It's a good thing I am so slow,

I can actually look at these

while I jog.

I'll go slow,

try to clear my mind.

Can I think about nothing while I jog?

Ha! That is an elusive goal,

but fun to try, right?

Emptying one's mind.

How to do that?

Studying my feet.

Run correctly,

paying attention.

Losing myself in the motion.

Repetitive.

Motion.

Back inside.

Wow.

30 minutes.

That's the best yet!

It didn't feel like 30 minutes.

I could have gone longer!

Could'a, should'a!

That was fun!
When can I call this a habit?

SOL19 Slice #27 Coming home

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

I walk into Frog's* room and peer into her bassinet...she looks right back at me, and gives me a big welcoming smile. I lift her up and carry her to the changing table, talking and chattering with her. "Yes! I am here! Nana has come to see you! You had such a good nap." My husband (Papa) babysits Frog each week, and I hurry over their way after my teaching day. Lately, her nap schedule means that I arrive at her house to find her fully asleep, and I must be patient and good, and leave her be. This is so hard to do! What a gift, this time, to peek in at her and have her look right back at me. Honestly, I didn't wake her up!

Frog delights in the changing table - it is one of her favorite hangouts in the house, which we think is the funniest thing. Truly, there are nicer places to be! Perhaps she loves to be up high, nearer to the adults in her life, while simultaneously free to wriggle and stretch? Maybe she likes to feel the air on her skin, as we shed her clothing? She always gives us many smiles while we change her diaper. Then, she goes into a free-form exercise routine. She kicks her legs out long and stiff, then loosens and lifts them up and around. She loves to press her feet against the container of wipes and listen to it crackle, back and forth - crackle, quiet, crackle, quiet. Her hands are busy, too - searching for something to grab and hold onto (Nana's hair?), and trying to get her fingers into her mouth. She coos and cackles, hums and shrieks. She's a talker! We banter back and forth, me making silly noises and Frog imitating.

Then, a surprise: there is a loud HRRRUNG of the garage door, as it opens...the garage is just below her bedroom. Frog looks at me with WIDE EYES and gives a loud squeal of delight, and she kicks her legs wildly in excitement!! This squeal was so distinct, and her smile so big, I feel certain it was associated with the noise.

To me, this is magical: she KNOWS!

Frog knows that if the garage door sound happens, someone she loves is coming home. Mama's coming home? Daddy's coming home? She knows.

Just a moment or so later, she is proven right - Mama comes in and gives her a big kiss.

Frog is five months old and the joy of our lives. It is so extraordinary to see her begin to know routines. 

*FYI - As I begin to share stories from my heart, I've decided to write fictitious names for my loved ones - however clunky that may seem - in the interest of preserving whatever shreds of anonymity one really has in this world. I'm going to call my grandchild 'Frog' - I love frogs...as a spirit animal, they exemplify renewal, transformation, metamorphosis, and so much more. 

SOL19 Slice #26 So, I love

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

I woke up deep in thought about my Mom, with a profound sense that she was near. This poem practically wrote itself, as I reflected about her and listened to my thoughts.

So, I Love

Always, always, always,

love your mother.

So, I love.

I loved her instinctively, 

without much return.

She was my carrot, 

dangling on a string,

drawing me, contorting me, making me,

always distant.

So, I love.

Mother and daughter,

everyone insists on the bond. 

Especially, one daughter in a pack of boys.

It was years before I understood

the cold and the scold.

I know now,

she would have loved me deeply, 

if not for being mentally ill.

So, I love.

Mother and daughter,

there we were, 

a snapshot of togetherness,

yet, not so.

So, I love.

Sharing the news of her death has been

a re-learning

about mother's love.

One friend holds me, embraces me, says

"This will shake you to your core."

Another -

"Oh, I feel such a hole still."

A third, simply grasps and squeezes both my hands, 

eyes filled with tears, 

as she remembers the enormous pain of her own mother's death.

So, I love.

I learn a lot about people's childhoods,

when I convey this news.

I see what could have been.

This knowledge 

is a new raw,

a sudden exposure,

a blister of insight,

painful insight.

So, I love.

Always, always, always,

love your mother.

What if she isn't able to give love back?

I know now,

she loved me deeply. 

So, I love.

SOL19 Slice #25 Weighing on me

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Oh, my, reality check. I went to my annual physical, only to be popped out of my denial. I have gained weight since my mother's death this past October. (Did you know that you don't gain weight if you don't get on a scale?) Now, the bitter truth. I need to wrestle with this, meet it head on, do the right thing. The doctor would like to see me take off 10 lbs, yes, no matter what; 20 lbs would be best. I can do this! 

Honestly, this is 'here I go again.' I've been down this road before. I know how to do this. It's not going to be any extreme approach...been there, done that:

- college summer, basically a starvation plan that was built around a lunch that consisted of a can of diet soda and 8 wheat thins (RIDICULOUS!) (Oh how foolish!!) (though the weight did fly off).

- another fun diet was the South Beach, which my husband and I both went on, supporting one another, only to lose power about one week into the diet...and all we could think about was the ice cream in the freezer...that approach ended with a binge! We remember that diet fondly, calling it our "Hurricane Isabelle" plan. No, we didn't lose much weight that time.

After all these years, I know - the best way for me to lose weight is to treat my body with respect. It's about eating right, eating modestly, and doing so day in and day out. I will try to be more mindful about what I am eating. As I've learned just this month, I'll do more writing...and be rewarded by less stress; this will help with that mindful eating. It's about adding in more exercise. Thankfully, I love love love long walks. This reality check has arrived just in time for spring, with its longer days and beautiful weather - perfect for getting outside!

Yes, I can do this!

I am halfheartedly fully invested and determined! Ha!

Here goes!

SOL19 Slice#24 Really me?

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

We finally got around to adding new insulation plus a simple flooring to our attic crawlspace. Such a boring expense, and yet, of course, an important one for this old house of ours. In order to do the work, we had to empty the attic of all its treasures. We've been going through these boxes, sorting and culling. Having lived in this house for 30 plus years, going through boxes is not unlike unearthing a time capsule. I am astounded at what we kept, what we "treasured." Honestly, I've had to pause with some boxes, to recall if these were really mine at all - their insides seem so foreign. 

I found - for example - three boxes of old clothing that my boys had worn when they were young, in a box labeled "quilt scraps." I am not a quilter. I have never made a quilt. I am the recipient of an extraordinary scrap quilt made by my late mother-in-law, for my husband when he went away to college. Did I imagine that I might do the same for my children? Did I imagine this once? Was this really me? 

The other big surprise was my Russian textbooks and notebooks - once upon a time, I took notes in Russian?! I wrote pages and pages in Russian? I majored in Russian in college and continued to find ways to speak and use the language in graduate school and for a few years thereafter. I visited what was then the Soviet Union, and became quite fluent during my summer there. Then, life happened differently - here I am looking back 30 years on my Russian studies, a fabulously full life with many joys but little or no Russian. Truly, this is a case of use it or lose it. I've lost it. Except for the handwriting, I would not have known those old Russian notes were mine. What was I thinking by saving them?

A friend suggests that I get the app Duolingo, and see if my Russian comes back. Hmm. This seems more plausible than quilting!

Strange to think what time does. 

SOL19 Slice#23: Note to self

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Dear Maureen,

You are having a very good March!

I notice your self-care improves dramatically when you write every day...when you unlock, when you release, when you pour it out onto paper. Do you see the difference in yourself? Say, between today and this same date in February? Or January? You have been in a real funk, Maureen. Yes, you have your reasons for this...however, words release it. This I know: writing is healing.

This month,
You have been more patient.
You have been more present.
You are conversing more.
You are laughing more.
You are filled with gratitude.

Writing is healing.
You owe this to yourself.
You deserve this.
You must keep writing.

Advice for April:

• Find a quiet place. 
• Write and reflect.
• Indulge yourself in playing with words.
• Dare to share it in your blog.
• Breathe.
• Smile.
• Repeat.

Love,
me, myself, and I

SOL19 Slice#22: Wild wind

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

This poem just tumbled out of me today, as I tried to walk in the blustery wind, on the way to school.

Wild Wind

Today is a day 

when the walls close in,

I'll step out into the wind.

Exhilarating,

exuberant,

invigorating.

What was once on my mind

is gone, gone, gone.

That thing I wrestled with,

in the night,

I can no longer recall.

My hair's gone free, 

chasing all around my head.

The tree's branches bend,

back the other way again.

Sidewalks are covered

with small debris.

I'd better jog than walk,

if I want to cross the street,

Wild wind pushing me,

encircling,

dancing,

surprising.

Was I sad?

Was I worried?

I no longer know.

Today is a day

when the walls close in,

I'll step out into the wind.

SOL19 Slice #21: The mole

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

What was I thinking, saving my blog post for after my eye doctor appointment? My eyes are so dilated, and have been so for a couple of hours now. This is actually giving me a bit of a headache. 

I forget how one must adjust to this! 

I have a mole behind my left eye. Well, the doctor refers to it differently - a 'nevus.' It's basically a freckle; a spot, a mole. It was discovered about 12 years ago, and I remember feeling quite nervous when I was sent to have it looked at more closely, photographed, and measured. Imagine - photographing the back of an eye...that's pretty cool! Thankfully, there was nothing wrong and my eye doctor called this my baseline. I have it checked out annually, to make sure it doesn't grow or change. For the past eleven years, it has not changed. Fabulous!

My general thinking: I have moles and freckles everywhere - why shouldn't I have one behind my eye? 

My appointment day thinking: Oh please please please don't say the mole has changed at all.

I'm old enough to know that one doesn't always hear good news at the doctor's office. Perhaps it is a good thing that I can compartmentalize, and not give this a single thought until I am in the doctor's office, but, wow, the negative thoughts I have make up for the year in-between. It is as if my mind is flipping through a rolodex of all the lucky breaks I have had in my health and I am thinking, "time's up!" Then I flip through everyone I know who has health issues and I think, "your turn now!"

Sitting in the special machine,
forehead touching one part,
chin touching another,
make sure both chin and forehead touch firmly,
no movement,
don't blink,
sit perfectly still,
try again,
follow green light at the center,
now to the left,
now to the right,
don't blink,
try again,
sit perfectly still,
painless and yet terrifying.

Then I am watching the doctor's face...
watching two doctors confer...
watching them look at photos past and present...
waiting to hear...

Yes! Again, the good news - the mole behind my eye has not changed! Everything looks great.

Only thing I have to complain about - I can't really see the blog post that I am typing.
Life is good!

SOL19 Slice#20: Blissful Stillness

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

The beauty of 3:30p.m.
Or maybe it is 3:35p.m.?
My day is filled with so many sounds,
children's voices - squealing, shouting, crying, laughing, talking, questioning, arguing
movements - clapping, running, banging, knocking, dropping, falling, bumping
adults - wondering, interrupting, calling, talking, laughing, herding, leading
raising voices
insisting
demanding
noise
noise
noise
and then
one last blast while children and their families gather all their belongings
frenetic searches for items
fast conversations
final questions
at the exit
followed by
silence
quiet
calm
absence
hush
nothing
blissful stillness.
It never ceases to amaze me
The beauty of 3:30p.m. 

SOL19 Slice #19: The Moon

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

It's Tuesday,
so I slip out the door at 5:30am for an early morning jog,
leaving my hot tea on the counter, steeping,
my ritual of three weeks now,
as I try to 'spring' into shape.

My eyes are immediately drawn to the moon in the sky - wow! 

nearly full,

bright and brilliant,

standing out, beckoning in the early morning,

still night,

sky,

I think as I jog,
what are my top moon memories?
What do I think of when I look at the moon?

Here are a few of my moon memories - 

- 1969, the Apollo landing, my parents, brothers and I absolutely riveted, watching the newscast; this has been followed by years of curiosity with this space travel (and countless trips to the National Air and Space Museum with our three sons as they were growing up)

- a year or so later, traveling with my family to Florida, I saw a full moon in the sky, and I watched it over countless driving hours, stuck in that car with my brothers and my parents; how I stared and stared at that moon, only to finally see its shadings and variations form the outline of a man's face...and, ever since, my eyes immediately see/form that same image on the moon, my man in the moon 

- my silly high school friend, passenger in the car I was driving, recreating the American Graffiti scene, mooning other girlfriends in the other car - of course, she did not have the courage to moon the boys...

- my baby (now 30, a father himself), how he loved the moon so much, that I made him a "moon" costume for his second Halloween; it was a very simple, cardboard, sandwich-styled board, with a friendly-faced quarter moon design; he was our little man in the moon

- an anniversary trip to Florida, years back, boys being babysat by our sister-in-law...a beach in the dark, a darling husband, a full moon in the sky, and some good fun by ourselves.

- living in Little Rock, Arkansas, back in 2004-06; we lived down a big hill, and the full moons seemed to sit at the base of our cul-de-sac, beckoning, saying "Hello! Welcome! Notice me!" every time we stepped out our front door...beautiful

- a friend's wedding in Oregon, middle of summer...driving down a country road after the reception, the moon leapt out in front of us, so magnificent, so gorgeous...we stopped the car on the side of the road and took picture after picture with our phones, though none were even half as good as our memory of it.

- glimpses of the moon in the daytime, from my school playground, running with preschoolers; how excited the children are when they see it; how I always sing "When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie, that's amore!"

I love the moon!

SOL19 Slice #18: Happy Birthday, Mom

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Today is my mother's birthday; she died in October, and would have turned 90. First thing this morning, I read my "Daily Devotional" meditation and it was about INTERRUPTIONS. Donna Schaper, the author, begins...  

"There must be some kind of sacrament to interruptions...."

I thought,

hmm,

Mom's birthday is a bit of an interruption to my thought-processes today. What if I look for interruptions, pay attention to them, see if they reveal anything positive?

Here's what I noticed:

Although I was wearing my favorite turtleneck top this morning, I could not find the shirt I always wear over it; I took the time to look through my closet more closely and found a really pretty shirt that I had totally forgotten I had! It had simple blue flowers on it, same color as my turtleneck. Yay!

A "no walk" signal for what seemed like an eternity as I walked to school from the metro - I looked around and noticed beautiful yellow narcissus in bloom. Yay!

I filled up my tea cup with hot water from the staff room dispenser, only to have this hot water immediately disintegrate the tea bag, spilling tea leaves throughout my mug. Oh no! I had to run back into my classroom for a replacement tea bag, and back into the staff lounge to refill. What was the good of this interruption? Well, I ended up having nice conversations with two different colleagues! That wouldn't have happened, if the tea had been made correctly the first time.

Other tidbits:

- a child speaks up at morning gathering for the first time ever! Surprise!

- one colleague is late for a meeting and I got to sit quietly in her office for ten whole minutes. Awesome!

- my Fitbit reminded me to get moving in the middle of a staff meeting, and I just stood up and moved about, stretching my legs. Funniest part - I wasn't the only one who did this! 

- the meeting ended early enough for me to write this blogpost. Interruption = accomplishment, day 18 of SOLSC. Ha!

SOL19 Slice #17: Not too long ago

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

I drop by to see him one last time, before leaving for the airport. He's sound asleep, snuggled in a nursing-home-issued blanket, mouth agape, his right hand folded gently under his chin, as if he is lost in thought, deep thought. I really haven't had very much "good" interaction with Dad on this trip. I spent most of the day with him yesterday, and he said only a word or two. It's as if he is here with us physically, only.

I want to interact with him before I leave; I only have an hour. Should I wake him up?

The nurse says he had a very wakeful night, very unsettled, that he kept getting up, coming out of his room (with his walker), making his way to the sitting area, then going back into his room and back to bed again, over and over. At one point, he curled up on the nursing home couch and fell asleep. The night caregiver covered him with a blanket, not wanting to disturb him, hoping he might finally sleep.

This image of my elderly father wandering, restless, searching, in the middle of the night, just breaks my heart.

I cannot write it, without crying.

Right now, it is morning, and sunshine streams in the beautiful large windows, a bright winter sun, gliding easily through the branches of deciduous trees. The day beckons. This nursing home sparkles. It is a nice place, well taken care of, with good, kind personnel. Truly, this nursing home is a lovely place, considering.

I think of him in the middle of the night and I think - this nursing home, this is not his home. He doesn't know where he is. She (Mom) is not here. He doesn't want to be here. My family and I wonder, is he - perhaps - afraid of where he's headed, what death means?

Disquiet.

Anonymous people caring for him, calming him, redirecting him, encouraging him. They speak gently. They give him space and freedom to wander a bit, keeping him safe.

This image of my elderly father wandering, restless, searching, in the middle of the night - maybe he's remembering making rounds at the shipyard? Checking on things.

I'll never know.

I decide to walk over and just stand at his bedside, quietly. Remember that trick we all had as young children, where you stare your parent into awake? Yes! I decided to try it again.

I stood next to his bed, bending over, looking, staring, sending him the unspoken message, "Wake up, I am here!"

He woke!!
Truly!
He sensed me.
His first thoughts were muddled - Who's there? What? Then, "Oh, yeah, Maureen, you have to go back this morning." (He remembered!!)

He is quiet for a minute or two. Then,

"Maureen, look at you in that picture. You were very little then, weren't you? It doesn't seem that long ago."

I turn my head to see the photo that he is looking at, hanging on the wall near his bed:




This photo was taken about fifty years ago.

"No, Dad, it doesn't. It doesn't seem that long ago at all."



Such a precious few minutes with my father. I am blessed.

SOL 19 Slice #16 What am I doing

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Somehow

I am undoing,

totally undoing,

all my healthy living intentions

by unrestrained

indulgences,

snacks, chocolate, and wine,

here in Saco,

visiting my elderly father.

Unfettered, I am.

Unquiet.

Unable.

Briefly,

so briefly,

these

blunt,

soothe,

temper.

Food and drink as anesthetic.

Not good.

I will amend my ways when I return home tomorrow.

SOL 19 Slice #15 Packing for the trip

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Packing for the trip.

I am up and down the stairs, to and from the laundry room, finding the clothes I need. Packing my suitcase. How cold will it be in Saco? Have I packed enough warm things? It's time to go see Dad again, up in Maine, in the nursing home. My new monthly tradition since Mom died.

Heavy heart. Full heart. Happy heart. Muddled heart. Dad.

Packing for the trip.

Check these off the list: toiletries, nightgown, underwear, socks, jeans, two nights only. Journal. Book. Writing pens. What am I missing in this suitcase?

We imagined, we hoped for such a different now for him. We dreamed Dad might rally, might find life satisfying, that he might gain energy somehow, from not being consumed by the care of Mom and her all-consuming dementia. Of course, grief isn't 'clean' or 'clear' like that. Grief is a liquid that permeates and bleeds and moves in unexpected ways, affecting so many things. He's lost his purpose, he's lost his will. His legs are giving out, his brain is no longer firing as sharply as it once did. He's addled and mixed up and confused much of the time. 

Packing for the trip.

Maybe the bright red shirt? Maybe this will catch his eye, help him to be a little more alert, maybe make him smile? He seemed to like the vibrant colors last month. Clothes, as cheerleader. Clothes, as possibility and hope. 

I remember last month, slumped in confines of the easy chair, he asked, "Why am I here?" Me, cheerleader, I moved closer to him and tapped him gently on the legs, "It's these legs, Dad. They need to get stronger, to be rehabilitated. They're just not working." 

"Yes," Dad agreed, "They've been very shaky."

I am cheerleader. I am there to soothe, to comfort, to quiet, to brighten, to smile.

Packing for the trip.

Who am I kidding? Parkinson's is a continual taking away, an inevitable decline. This is not like a young child, who begins to learn more due to focused attention on his needs. This is its painful opposite...a withering, a leaving, a letting go.

Do I need to pack shoes for a good long walk? Will we have time for a walk, Tony and I? Walking is the very best way to find a little peace in the midst of the lowness, if/when we find Dad sad and grouchy. 

Yes, I'm going to pack my walking shoes. 

I'll make a walk happen. Self-care. I must think of me, too.

Packing for the trip.

SOL 19 Slice #14 Moving too fast

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

First I saw the sunrise - pink, orange, rose. I didn't take a picture, as I hurried to school. I kept the warmth and beauty in my heart, walking quickly, walking quickly. I turn the corner, and WHOA! Right there, just as I exit the metro and turn the corner, right there, on the wire fence:

A beautiful crotcheted flower, three feet in diameter, in vivid colors - pink, green, purple. Gorgeous! Amazing. Who left this? Who 'yarn-bombed' this fence? 

Wait! I just went by here,

just last night,

after a long day at school.

Was it there then?

Did I miss it?

Slow down.

Slow down.

Slow down.

This day cries out - NOTICE ME!

SOL 19 Slice #13 Carefully

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Four months old...
I look at her, she looks at me,
I coo at her, she coos at me,
I smile at her, she smiles at me,
back and forth, we play and play and play.
I know she needs a nap,
as her hands rub her eyes.
What was it the doctor said,
to aim for three naps a day?
How I'd love just a little more play.
Let me try a bottle,
let me hold her in my arms,
ahhh, just the trick, just the thing,
she falls asleep in my arms,
deep asleep,
before the final sips.
Carefully,
oh so carefully,
I slip the paci in her mouth,
and, carefully,
oh so carefully,
move her to the bedroom,
where her easy-on sleep suit awaits,
there in the bassinet.
Carefully,
oh so carefully,
I lay her down,
slip those tiny feet into the leg openings,
those tiny hands and arms into theirs,
and carefully,
oh so carefully,
I give a pull, to close the cozy suit.
Carefully,
oh so carefully.
I have been still, and slow, and soft.
I give one tiny pat of love on her tummy,
only to see
a smile, full smile,
breaking out around the pacifier,
eyes wide and looking,
at me,
searching.
"Don't meet the eyes," my son, her father, warned.
Those eyes,
now locked on me,
as if to say:
Who are you kidding, Nana?
You don't want me in here, with you out there!
I slip out, quickly,
carefully,
only to hear her fret,
then a stronger cry.
She knows,
and I know,
I'll be back in to get her.
Isn't there a better time to practice napping?
Isn't there a better enforcer than Nana?

SOL 19 Slice #12 Being With You

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

It's my anniversary...Tony and I celebrate 31 years of marriage today! Here's an attempt at poetry (31 lines!) to commemorate our special day...

BEING WITH YOU

finding one another
chatting, conversing, joking, charming, sweet-talking, 
dreaming, hoping, and longing

dating, being with
piano-playing, softball-throwing, ping-pong-challenging
shoveling snow, retreating, burrowing together

reading, making playlists, writing love notes
fitting together well

hugging, kissing, caressing

 being gentle with one another
marrying 

baking biscuits, keeping house, taking care of one another
moving, dancing, laughing
intertwining
having babies, raising boys

creating a home, a family, a life together

walking, climbing, hiking, traversing, exploring the great outdoors
traveling, sightseeing

praying, believing

surprising, intriguing, listening
caring, devouring, trusting, honoring, treasuring

persevering

hungering for and satisfying
supporting and comforting, mourning together, holding each other up

wrapping in warm tender love 

 becoming grandparents, hearts swelling, together
making memories and reminiscing

growing old together
handling with care
loving

holding on to one another

SOL 19 Slice #11 Respecting teachers

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Back when I first became a preschool teacher, I went to an education conference in Ocean City, Maryland with my teaching colleagues. We had a variety of workshops to choose from and I was excited to attend. I was fresh out of my early childhood certification course and very excited about my career change. (I had formerly worked at a consulting firm as a technical writer and trainer, a world of high heels and beautiful suits, and the ability to take a break during the day whenever I needed to do so - yes, a very different world from teaching.)

As I entered the very first workshop that day in Ocean City, Maryland, I passed an unsmiling woman standing right by the exit door; I remember thinking, "hmmm, that's odd - she looks a bit like a bouncer. Why would there need to be a bouncer here?" I settled into my seat, next to my colleagues, making chit-chat. Others entered, settled into their seats.

Just as it was time to start the workshop, that unsmiling person in the back of the room announced - "The doors will now be locked. There is no exiting in the middle of this workshop. You are earning 2 hours of training and we need to be sure that you are in attendance."

Oh. My. Goodness.

She locked the doors!!

For real.

I was locked into my first-ever teacher training.

I was aghast. I really could not believe the way I was being treated. I remember my "seasoned" colleagues giggling over my affront; they were numb to this treatment. Fresh out of a "professional" setting, I saw the condescension. Talk about a lack of trust! What a paradigm shift from the world of technical writing and consulting. I was being treated in a demeaning, controlled way.

Fast forward 20 years, I am still teaching early childhood. I am a master teacher, working alongside a beginning teacher, showing her the ropes. I love young children.

Although I haven't had as stark an experience as I had at this first early childhood conference, I continue to be horrified by the way that we treat teachers.

Teachers are frequently not treated as professionals.

One example I have is an annual observation done by the Office of Superintendent of Education for Pre K classrooms throughout the district. These are four hours long, with my every move being observed - listening to my words, noting the words and movements of all adults in the classroom, taking notes of which students were doing what...I am under a microscope. I am a seasoned teacher, an experienced teacher, and I am absolutely wiped out by this observation each year. How to describe the exhaustion I felt from the scrutiny? I do not feel as if I should take a bathroom break. I feel pressure to have fake conversations with children. I feel enormous responsibility for all others in my room - what were they saying? doing?

Imagine - the observer is a stranger and enters without a smile and no small talk. Children try to chat her up and she avoids. It is a small poison really, to a teaching team, to a preschool classroom - to loom as she does in the midst of the classroom for the entire morning. She arrives while I am setting up my classroom in the early morning and stays until lunch is served - four hours into the day.

My school will get a report and a score in a few months.

Here's my wonder -
Of what value is this?  

How does it improve my teaching? 

How does it inform me?

How is it helpful to not hear any feedback for several months? 

I have no issues with being observed. It is magical to have coaches come in, or peers, or even supervisors, and give you real-time feedback and insight. Videotaping is also great.

Why does this annual observation by the State Superintendent feel different to me? The teacher is not in conversation with the observer, this is obviously not a collaboration, there is no feedback that helps me grow professionally. I feel like a pawn, not in control.

Yes, it is a 'put down,' a locking of teachers into a room.

I am not a professional. I am a widget. 

SOL 19 Slice #10 Stay or go?

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOL19)
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for the month of March 2019.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Every year at this time of year, I have to sign an 'intent to return' form for my school - do I plan to return to teaching? Last week, this little piece of paper was back in my hands, bringing into real conversation the subject that has been stewing in the back of my mind...

Am I ready to retire from teaching preschool?

How does one decide when is the right time to retire?

I am fast approaching the age where this is what one does. Retire, that is. I am surrounded by people who are doing so. 

My husband is nearly eight years older than me, and he has been retired for three years. Because of his retirement, my own work week is so much easier - he takes care of the household now. I come home to dinner already cooked and laundry washed and folded; he often drives me to the metro in the morning and picks me up in the afternoon. We joke that I have a "boy toy." It is, truly, pretty awesome. He is so relaxed in retirement, unlike his many years in government and private industry. I think we have a pretty good balance these days.

(The sweetest part of his being retired while I am a teacher is summer - being able to be with each other around the clock, for weeks on end. This is delightful! We make great use of every long weekend, every school break. We have traveled, hiked, and played.)

He would love me to be retired.

He fears being "old and in frail health" when I do decide to retire...that said, the man is the picture of great health! I don't believe he's going to fall apart.

Yet, I realize I am taking a bit of a risk. Will I look back with regret that I taught so long, rather than spending more time with him?

A couple of my very close friends are retiring this year - both feel as if they have been run into the ground by their work, and their health demands that they stop now. 

This is not my truth. Yet, I feel some sort of vague pressure from it.

I love what I do, I love teaching preschoolers! I love how they make me laugh, how they make me move, and how they make me think. I love my colleagues - planning, collaborating, and bantering together. I love the variety of my day, and the different skill sets I use. It is never dull. I feel alive and purposeful.

I am terrified of retirement. 

It feels like a big empty hole, a step into total unknown.

Will it feel less so when I am ready?

Is this just a sign that I am not ready?

I signed the form - Yes, I will come back. Let's talk about making some modifications to my current job, so that I might have a little more flexibility.

Ugh.

Why can't teaching be a three or four day a week job?
Why does it have to be so all or nothing?

I am not yet ready to retire.