Monday, March 12, 2012

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

Sunday, March 11, 2012

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

Saturday, March 10, 2012

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

Friday, March 9, 2012

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

Thursday, March 8, 2012

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 8

Tonight, I got home late from a professional development session I co-facilitated.  Dinner was in the oven, and to this tired soul, the 'gourmet' Red Baron pizza (with extra cheese!) baking inside made me want run to the table like I was sliding into home base.

My husband cut and served the gooey goodness and we sat down to chat as a family.  Of course, the normal conversations ensued:

"So, what did you do at work today?" I asked my beam-designer husband. 
(I still inquire...even though his technical jargon sounds more to me like the person Peppermint Patty conversed with on the phone in Peanuts cartoons.)

"Normal.  Got a 90% deadline tomorrow..."
(Blah, blah, blah---LOVE how cheesy this slice is.)

Still arrested by my dairy affair, a little voice rescued me from coveting the last slice lying mere steps away in our midget kitchen.

"Mommy, what did you do at wawk today?"
(In Reid-speak, that's 'work.')

I stared into his brownie eyes.  In fact, it might've taken me a minute to process his informational request.
OK, he asked me what I did today at work.  Really?  That's never happened before.
OK, so I have to answer him.  
What do I say?  What do I say?
How do I put what I do in a day in two-year-old terms...?

"Well, I talked with some teachers,
then, I tested some kids,
then, I taught some kindergarteners a little more about writing,
then, I worked on letters with some other kids,
then, I went to a meeting."
(Obviously, the abridged version of March 8...)

'Did you eat pizza at your wawk meeting?" my lovely little one inquired.

AMAZING.

Even a toddler knows the best meetings are those which offer soul-pleasing snacks.  My benchmark for planning future gatherings has been reinforced (yet again).

Write on,
b

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 7

Walking down
our once blank, bleek
apartment hallway
New life blossoms
every
Sunday

Months ago
I became
tired
of the whiteness,
the plainness,
of the new space

So I stopped it,
in favor
of
toddler
Sunday School
masterpieces

"This is your art wall,"
I proudly
proclaimed
to Reid
at the start
of our new
ritual

Each week
we
tape up
a
coloring page:
God made my arms
        God made my feet
                God gives us food
                        God gives us family

Each one shows
how our
baby
is
growing:
in spirit
        in motor control
               in conversation

Now
as the collection
expands,
Reid says,

"This is my heart wall, Mommy."

Yes.
It is.
(And, never once do I rephrase...because his nomenclature is far superior.)

Write on,
b

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

2012 Slice-of-Life Story Challenge | 6

Last night after dinner,
Reid and Tom stayed around the table
just a little longer than I did.
Relaxing on the couch with my hometown's newspaper, I zoned out
in favor of the goings-on with familiar people and places in Berne...
until gregarious laughter exploded and
seemed to roll through
our apartment room by room.
I ran, hoping to catch
the tail end of all this silliness.

Indeed, I was privy to much more.

Tom decided that our toddler needed to learn how to play "Simon Says."

Now, this may seem like a pipe dream...
but from what I could tell,
Reid really stuck with the simple directions offered.


"Simon says, touch the cup."
Check.
"Simon says, pound on the table."
Check.
"Simon says, touch the plate."
Check.
"Look up at the ceiling."
(Um, yeah sure; why not?)

Two quick hands flew into Reid's tiny armpits and "buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzed" him
(complete with appropriate sound effects)
after the ceiling miscue.
He burst out laughing, giggling, gaffawing ---
whatever it was,
his eyes sparkled and his cheeks became rosy.
It was precious.

Reid caught on to the game.
(Oh, he is a smart one.)

The next series, he followed all the directions
prefaced with "Simon Says" to the letter.
Those missing the alliterative indicator,
he completed
in
anticipation
of
the "buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"
from Daddy.

Laughing, giggling, gaffawing ---
whatever it was,
his eyes sparkled and his cheeks were rosy.

It was precious.

Write on,
b