2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 15

I let myself sleep in.  I did.  And it was glorious. 

I got ready, like always, just later.  I enjoyed breakfast sitting down, which I found far superior to desperately snarfing down a granola bar between morning commitments at school.  I cuddled with Reid while he watched The Wiggles, which was nice because 98% of the time I leave without seeing him first-thing.  We walked out to the car together as my husband prepared for their daily jaunt to the sitter's house.

In the far recesses of my mind (while enjoying these mundane, yet fabulous indulgences), I heard a little voice of self-doubt.  Calendar doubt. 

"It's Wednesday.  What if you really did have a meeting?  You'll never make it in time now."

After kissing the little one and the big one, I hopped in the car content to have 20 minutes to myself.  A concert maybe...?  Winding down the trip, the calendar doubt seeped deeper and deeper and the internal dialogue became more oppositional.  I pulled into the parking lot only to notice it full.  FULL.  At 7:50, the parking lot is never full.  Cars were there that I don't see speed in until five minutes before contract time.

The doubt became panic.  No small whisper inside; only yelling now.  IF THERE'S A MEETING, YOU'RE FIVE MINUTES LATE ALREADY!!!

I couldn't park and whisk all my belongings out of the back seat with enough speed.  I fumbled into a dead-quiet hallway.  My eyes darted from one classroom to the next.  Darkened spaces, unoccupied pods.  I mentally reconciled this data with cars I'd seen in the parking lot.  At this point, I knew there was only one staff meeting indicator left.

I picked up my speed, focusing on the last door ahead of me.  Mine.
Is it open?  Is it open?

You see, my room connects the primary hallway to the media center, where all our staff functions are held...so many times my room serves as a thoroughfare into these events.  An open door would mean mistake pure and simple.  I'd have to suffer the inevitable embarrassment of walking in alone and late. 

Open.

The seconds turned to minutes.  I glanced through the connecting door only to see intent faces pointed toward our guest speaker.

Geesh.  What do I do?  Should I walk in late from the front, my classroom door?  People already noticed me drop my bags by the desk and contemplate next moves...  Should I walk around the library and be even later so I could enter from the back?  Should I skip it completely?

The clock got the better of me.  Tip-toeing in from the front, I tried to gracefully slide a chair behind my colleagues.  It was a pipe dream to go unnoticed.  More sympathetic eyes darted my way than judging ones.

I'm late and my calendar's blank.  It was an honest mistake.  Sorry Mr. ING; I'll have to catch up on retirement info later in my career.

I let myself sleep in.  I did.  And it was glorious.

Write on,
b

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 14

The room was dark, my soul was bare...
snuggling beside a jammied toddler
at 'night-nights' yesterday.
After prayers,
Reid began to chat.

"Mommy, I ran out of kisses."

I flinched.

I practically make a part-time job out of kissing this cherub.
For him. 
(I want him to feel as loved as he is.)
For me.  
(I absolutely can't stop.)

"Well, then I better give you some more.  I want you to have enough."

Ear kiss.

Forehead kiss.

Neck kiss.

Hand kiss.

"Now I have enough, Mommy.  Wove you.  Night niiiiiiiiiiiiight."
His little velvety hand grabbed mine as our eyes met.

"Love you too, little one.  Sleep tight."

"I better give you some kisses too, Mommy.  So you have enough."
His puffy lips (my family trait) lightly danced across my face.

Softly padding out of his room,
my heart flew
and my soul expanded.

We both have enough.
Our kiss quotient is in surplus.

Write on,
b

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 13

I guess I didn't believe the forecast.  Mid-70s on March 13?  In Indiana?

Last night while laying out my clothes (like I always do), I checked the forecast (like I always do).  Sunny, 74.  My mind instantly equated the 74-degree high to like, 4:00 or 5:00 p.m., and I made the snap decision to forgo fashion and stay warm in my temperature-challenged school building.

(You see, and like you probably well know, schools have funny rules about turning boilers off and on...so needless to say, my elementary is frigid.  Blue lips and nails, jackets on teachers far and wide, classrooms in the low 60s.  No connection to the outer world.)

I stepped into the closet and confidently pulled out my warm, cozy red sweater dress.  It's been my favorite all winter since plucking it out of the Tommy Hilfiger department at Lord & Taylor while at NCTE last fall.  I love it with my soft black leggings, dark riding boots, and argyle knee socks.  Oh, yes, and since it's short-sleeved, the perfect complement is my absolute favorite piece of clothing ever --- a black turtleneck.  I wear this outfit often.  (My co-workers may track it on a calendar.)  It's my go-to because it's fashionable and comfortable; warm and still flattering.  I figured today it would be just the ticket. 

I was the red sweater at school today
who looked more like a holiday greeting
than an inspired Gap window dressing

I was the red sweater at school today
who wore warmed-over winter
not fresh pinks, greens, and yellows

I was the red sweater at school today
who dressed for the calendar
not the forecast

I was the red sweater at school today
who covered up in black leggings and boots
no ballet flats and capri pants

I was the red sweater at school today
who melted under long sleeves
no cool breezes met my arms

I was the red sweater at school today
who dreamed of what I could've worn instead
no wintery woolens

So, take heart.  I've learned from my fashion faux pas.  Tomorrow, it's my dressy black capri pants, a comfy black cami under a raspberry belted cardigan, and some fun pointy-toe kitten heels. 

Me.  Revitalized.  Me.  Springy.  Me sans red sweater.

Write on,
b

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 12

This small-town girl needs a deep freeze

Like my grandmas', to store up:

bags of potato chips that were a steal at the grocery

popcorn that I couldn't finish

flour that I haven't opened
lard that I put in pie crust dough each week

nuts-and-bolts that I offer on-the-ready to hungry guests

homemade cinnamon rolls that I defrost for Sunday mornings

and gooey louie sandwiches that I pop out for family meals

Like my parents', to store up:

bags of fresh corn that I 'put up' in July

homemade strawberry jam that I made for buttery toast

packages of ham loaf that I bake and slather in sweet sauce

a half-cow...all the cuts of beef that I want without going to the store

quarts of homemade applesauce that I partially thaw for dinner

pudding pops in Tupperware molds that I love on hot days

air-tight containers of cookies, bars, and cupcakes that I share in a snap

Will I get one someday?

Maybe.  

And, then it's a freezer full of memories for me...

Write on,

b

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 11

Our Saturday routine has an addendum: house-shopping.  My husband decided now is the time to buy.

Like so many weekends in recent past, we yesterday we bundled up, hopped in the car, wishful it would be our lucky day.  'The list' of criteria swirled around in our heads:

          updated kitchen
                                   four bedrooms
                                                           a basement
                                                                               lots of storage
                                   an inspiring office
                                                                      three-car garage
          thick, white trim
                                            a huge master closet
                                                                                                        
Quietly we started our trek north on a familiar road near our apartment, the three of us bobbing in and out of deep-thought-ville.  Evidently Reid was pondering our most important criterion (says my husband): the garage space.

Like counting trains in Tidmouth Sheds, he began to take inventory of garage spots in our neighborhood as the car slinked by each house.

"There's a one-car garage."
             (Gasp.  Really? --- I turned to look --- yep.  OK.  Fluke?)
"There's a two-car garage."
             (Another gasp.  --- I turned again to look --- geesh.  He's right.)
"There's a one-car garage."
             (Yep.  Got it.)
"There's a one-car garage."
             (Right.)
"There's a three-car garage!"
             (And, that's the last house in the row...did this really happen?  
             Five for five.  Uncle Brad would like those stats on his base-
             ball team...)

"A three-car garage, Daddy!"

So, maybe the list above should be revised...  Evidently, the males in my family are in cahoots and think we should solely stick to garage status as indicator numero uno!

(I'm not sure about all that, but I'm still holding out for storage space, the office of my dreams, and a closet Carrie Bradshaw would be proud of...an updated kitchen wouldn't hurt either.)

Write on,
b

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 10

To be clear from the start, I was serving as an example to my son.

You see, lately, we've been having, well, troubles with afternoon naps on weekends.  As it turns out, my son thinks pretty much anything is more fun that getting a few hours of shut-eye.  Rearranging his many Thomas the Train Track Master sets (they're inter-changeable) is great...as is completely emptying his closet (which is a sticking point because it is one of our indoor storage areas for house miscellanea)...as is editing content from well-loved books (and by that I mean RIPPING PAGES OUT OF THEM).  Sometimes, my husband and I are strict by looking through the crack at the bottom of his door to see a pair of white-socked feet tip-toeing around stealthily...and then we do what we have to do, which is provide warning and potentially spank (because, yes, Reid does know the rules).  Sometimes, my husband and I chock nap time up to an opportunity for him to have some 'independent play' (because, yes, it is important to learn how to self-entertain).  We probably need to pick a side and stick to it.  We just don't understand why he won't nap on Saturdays and Sundays because he sleeps two hours each day, same time, for his sitter during the week.

Today, Reid told us he was tired at the tell-tale hour.  We quickly ate lunch.  He yawned.  We had cuddles and warm milk.  He yawned.  We read three short stories.  He yawned.  We tucked him in.  He became energized.  In my quest to show him just exactly how important napping is, I mentioned that I was off to take one too and that of course, when I nap, I just get in bed and fall right to sleep.  (Now, the honest truth is that it never even takes me 15 seconds to arrive in Sleepy Town...but that can be left out.  I may be abnormal, or just over-tired.)  I thought I made my point.

So, I kept up my end of the bargain.  I headed straight to bed, slid under the cozy assortment of covers, and napped.  It was nice. 

My son --- not so much. Today, he rearranged his scooter toys and block wagons.  Then, after Daddy caught wind of his play time soundtrack, the bedroom door was opened and Reid escaped yelling, "Mommy!  What are you doing?"  (I imagine he had to repeat his question a few times before I journeyed out of my deep sleep.) 

"Exactly what you're supposed to be, my dear.  TAKING A NAP!"

And, I'll say, if it helps, I'm happy to serve as an example each weekend afternoon.  I've never been adverse to daytime z's and I don't intend to develop any opposition.  I'm guessing someday Reid's perspective will change...you know, when he's good and tired from chasing kids and getting groceries and doing his best at his job and cleaning and cooking and making sure everyone's needs are met...

Write on,
b

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 9

Dear Teachers College Reading and Writing Project,

Thank you so very much for extending me an invitation today to attend your July reading institute this summer.  I'll admit ---  when your name showed up prominently on my school mail feed this afternoon, my heart skipped a beat.  I'm excited to meet new people, learn more about effectively workshop instruction, and discover new staff development techniques from your rock-star staff.  THIS is a magnificent opportunity! 

For people who absolutely adore learning more about reading and writing instruction, the home you've created at Teachers College is like a sacred gathering place where educational gospel is preached.  Passion oozes from each session: attendees and staff.  I remember the first time I sat in Milbank Chapel two years ago as if it were yesterday...  Leader Lucy Calkins ramped up her awestruck audience and then Mary Ehrenworth challenged literacy coaches to be the intellectual heart of any school building.  Attendees from all over the world warmly chatted during sessions, throughout your old-school hallways, and while waiting for cabs that speckled your historical campus.  Bonds formed, alliances forged,  contacts shared.  All communication seemed to say, "Hey, we're in this together. How can we help each other grow?"  I LOVE THE MENTALITY YOU FOSTER.  It's empowering (and highly addictive).  I know this summer's event will be no exception.

With a veritable treasure trove of research, experience, and complete instructional know-how, you will truly enlighten each attendee on the workshop method of reading instruction.  Even the curmudgeons (one of Lucy's favorite terms).  With increased accountability to grow all students, not just the low, not just the high --- but EVERYONE --- and at high rates, we need to learn how to teach to every reader by meeting them where they are and holding them to rigorous expectations.  What your organization has done with New York City Public Schools is nothing short of amazing; the proof is in the pudding --- allowing teachers to teach their students in meaningful minilessons and through consistent conferences during independent work time is pure magic.  I love it all and I want you to teach me how to hone these crafts with students and teachers in my building.

TC's dynamic, experienced, and personable staff will spread your workshop words of wisdom in methods I can easily translate to the elementary staff I work among.  Four corners...lab sites...triads...layering and density...cycles...big ideas.  These are all concepts I latched onto, nurtured, and grew after your coaching institutes.  I'm almost breathless at the prospect of what I'll learn from you this summer --- in fact, that's my intent --- to use your content to inform our comprehension professional development focus next year.  I love how you, as teachers, remember what the classroom is like and what teachers need to know because you're out in schools so often.  I love how you, as instructional leaders, are not scared of change and step forward when the hardest kind is what's warranted.  I love how you, as inquisitive researchers, are passionate about minutia and push others to notice important details that initially seem tiny but really aren't.  I love how you, as capacity builders, affect schools, districts, and entire regions by reaching out to even one person.  But, more, I love how you develop relationships --- relationships that inspire growth.

Working with you again this summer is a dream come true.  I'll be like a kid in a candy shop being surrounded by kindred spirits, discovering reading instructional methods derived from the latest data, and learning through the talent you're lucky enough to claim.  Even though I just heard from you today, I'm already mentally packing my bags and making preparations to return to the Upper West Side.  Now, to patiently wait for 114 more days...

Write on,
b