Snow Day?

Friday nights –

arguably the best of the week.

A pivotal point between work and play.

The boys are STILL playing downstairs,

currently past bath time and past bedtime.

I hear voices of superheroes and firetrucks

and laughter I hope to hold onto forever.

I type upstairs, sitting in the dark at the kitchen table

listening to Zac Brown’s voice inside

and the wind bellowing outside.

I reflect on the week that ended and forecast the weekend ahead.

A snowstorm is brewing and I’m dancing – my snow dance, of course.

Maybe, just maybe, a day off is in our future.

Excited to sleep in,

excited to spend the day in PJs,

excited to see my boys’ faces when they

see mounds of fresh snow,

hugging limbs and branches.

Ready to read my snow book,

ready to build a snow fort,

and ready to soak up the moments

a snow day inevitably brings.

 

Lunches and Memories

“Mom, I would like a chocolate Cars (as in Lightening McQueen Cars) sandwich for lunch tomorrow.”

That’s how tonight’s lunch production started.  Son A makes a request.  Son B affirms request.  Mom eagerly fulfills request.

Tonight, though, as I spread the thick, creamy brown Nutella onto the whole wheat slices, I became somewhat nostalgic.  Not sure if it was the reference to homemade lunches earlier in the day, or taking a quick glimpse of my grandmother’s handwritten pierogie recipe, framed and hung from a kitchen wall… but, something triggered my thinking and took me back to my grandmother’s kitchen.

My Pap ate a tomato and mayo sandwich almost every day.  Freshly brewed coffee with a splash of cream and a spoon to stir.  White bread that had to be fresh and unsliced.

He’d sit down at the metal brimmed kitchen table. Newspaper, sandwich, and coffee in hand.  Barely a word was spoken, except for the occasional, “Honey, help yourself.”

Bite of sandwich, slurp of coffee, turn of the paper page.  The methodical rhythm of his actions could put a baby to sleep.

Routines from a War vet and memories from a granddaughter.  Funny how a chocolate Cars lunch could bring that all back.

Justin Timberlake – I Thank You.

Every morning is a race out the door,

Into our carseats, buckled to be safe.

The thought of clothes

and shoes

and a hat

and brushed teeth

and yes, I admit, even underwear at times,

seem quite basic.

But, a three and a five

make it an early morning ninja-warrior adventure.

I know I’ve made it

when I tap the garage door

and turn on the tunes.

Our favorite song, our happy song,

‘Can’t Stop This Feeling’

permeates the car and the mood

and all is good on the drive to preschool.

Our three and a half minute commute

is full of out-of-tune singing and

ear-to-ear smiles and

perhaps some shoulder shrugging from the driver’s seat.

We’ve found our happy song

that the little ones request by name.

I can’t imagine starting the day

any other way.

 

Baseball Talk

Tonight I logged on my computer to check my email and tend to some other school-related tasks.  I scanned through the list of unread emails and stumbled upon one from from a student’s parent that I just started to support today.  In speaking with the classroom teacher, I knew there was hesitation with my new student visiting me in my classroom twice a week, so I was anxious and uncertain to what I would read upon opening it.

I clicked on the email and began reading.  It was from Mom.  Much to my surprise, the she shared how much fun her son had with me today.  She shared that he was actually looking forward to more time together tomorrow.

I think back to earlier today and replayed our time together.  We spent the first fifteen or so minutes just talking about baseball and our favorite baseball players and the best position to play and what we liked to do on the weekends and, well, you get the idea.  Our time reading today was limited, but my conversation was sincere.  I wanted my new student to feel comfortable, and more importantly, I wanted him to know I cared.

Being a reading specialist can be a tricky job.  We sometimes get the most challenging students and the ones with the most hesitation or reluctancy for extra support from a reading teacher.  We sometimes find the kiddos with a trying level of confidence and there is many times, a negative connotation to visiting the “reading room.”  I get it.  Maybe that’s why I make such an effort to build trust with the students I work with.  I try to be empathetic and compassionate and convey the message, “I am here to help you.”

I think that the extra time we spent talking and building a relationship today made all the difference.

Hopefully, I can make a difference.

Now, only if he was a Washington Nationals fan…..

Five Foot Two

In the middle of a lesson

As I stand at five foot two

surrounded by 6th graders

in a middle school of teenagers

I shared my wisdom on genres and plots

and character development.

I shared tricky phrases and symbolic references

to a sea of eager eyes and hungry minds.

At the start of the year,

I shared an All About Me

and my students knew I played basketball in college.

So, it shouldn’t have came a surprise

when a boy named John raised his hand

in the middle of  discussion,

and asked,

“Ms. D, how tall were you when you played ball?”

Batter Up!

Living with boys – three boys, one big and two little to be exact – outside time is a necessity. It is valued and treasured and strategically a part of our daily to-dos.  Even in the cold, bitter winter months, we find ourselves bundling up like Ralphie’s little brother from Christmas story just to get some fresh air and warm sunshine in and that endless energy out!

Our time outside varies with different sport-related or digger-related activities.  On any given day, it looks like the P.E. department sprinkled their storage closet on our backyard.  Soccer balls, goals, hula hoops, lacrosse sticks, pool noodles (yep, even in winter!), baseball bats, an assortment of balls, golf clubs and tees scatter our soon-to-be-cut-pre-spring yard.  Sometimes they are used for their rightful purpose and other times, well, it’s anyone’s guess.  A pool noodle as an elephant trunk?  Why not?  A golf club as an edger?  Of course!  Today we used our golf tee mat as home plate.  The P.E. department must have misplaced those bases. 😉

This afternoon we practiced fielding balls and hitting home runs and running the bases.  As the sun shone brightly and the light breeze kissed our cheeks, the boys learned to run from first to second to third to home, and the youngest of the two learned that when you start running bases, it’s a good idea to drop the bat!

It was all fun and games all afternoon until I, mom, got up to bat. The boys were in outfield and my beloved husband on the mound.

First pitch made me jump, was much too inside.

Dear, that was too close.

Second pitch fell before my feet.

Dear, put some heat on it.

Third pitch was a rope, sailing into the batter’s box as it thwacked the barrel of my thick, red, plastic bat.

Dear, did you see that?!

Outside time was over not when the diner bell rang or the bathtub was full or the sun was about to set.  Outside time was over when I, mom, hit the ball over our fence.

 

Hidden Treasures

That moment on Saturday evening

when you realize you haven’t posted.

You crawl into bed

laptop in hand, covers uncovered

and find remnants of the day:

matchbox cars in all shapes and sizes

hidden under the pillows and the blankets –

Hidden from a surprise sleepover the night before.

Prior to typing tonight, I wasn’t sure what to write.

Then I saw the trucks and cars and remembered why they were there.

I was quickly reminded of the presents I find throughout the day from my two little boys.

Under pillows and couch cushions, in shoes and jacket pockets, in carseats and on tables.

The hidden treasures of the life we live makes me smile every time one is unearthed.

I know I’ll miss the day when my bed, my couch, my car, my jacket pockets are empty.

I might just keep some in their secret spot.

My Hook Book

A recent post got me thinking.  It triggered a memory from elementary school. A memory in which I was tucked under my pink and blue flowered comforter.  Lights off, flashlight on.  Beloved book in hand.  It was way past my bedtime.  I could hear the Pennsylvania crickets chirp though my half-opened window.  A cool breeze graced the room I shared with my younger sister.  She was fast asleep. I always wondered how she could go right to sleep.  My mind always raced at night.  I made lists, and plans, and well, sleep was never easy.

My parents thought I was in dreamland, too.  But, I wasn’t.  I was curled up with a book, catching the bug.  The reading bug.

I blame Lynette.  We were at a birthday party when she shared a book with me.  Lynette and I weren’t close friends, but were on the same basketball team and had a similar circle of friends.  Out of the blue, she says, “This is really good.  You should read it.”  Not being the biggest reader at the time (yes, sad to admit; painfully true), I took it and said, “Okay, I’ll read it.”

Little did I know what would happen next.  Little did I know what impact this book would have on me and my reading life.  It was my Hook Book.  It was the book that made me stay up late, read under covers, and cry with the characters.  It was the BOOK that got me HOOKed.

I can’t describe my current frustration without being able to recall its title (on a side note, I have spent the better part of my Friday evening scouring the internet trying to find this series!).  It was about a young girl and her struggles with leukemia.  As a kid and adult who prefers to live in a rainbow and unicorn world, I am still unsure to this day WHY this book appealed to me.  But, it did.  And I fell in love with reading because of this book – the characters, their struggles, their triumphs.  It somehow became a part of me.

So, thanks to a Slice of Life post, I was reminded of this book, this moment – my hook book.

It is my sincere hope that teachers, including myself, will move mountains for our students to find their book hook.  It will be life-changing.

Mom, can you help?

“Mom, can you help?”

It was a September Sunday afternoon. I was in 7th grade.  The first year of junior high.  I distinctly remember the exact place and the exact time I uttered these words.  My geography teacher assigned a research project the week before: “Pick a natural resource found in the United States and describe its impact on the economy.”

“Um, what?”

Natural resources – check.  Economy – kinda check.  Impact?  No clue.

Basically, I was asked to write my first ever paper with a thesis statement, reasons and supporting evidence.  I was asked to do this without ANY explicit writing instruction, of course.

I think back to that moment when it was first assigned and the immediate panic that came over me.  Did anyone else feel overwhelmed?  Did any of my classmates feel confused?   I was too embarrassed to show my true colors and reach out to others around me. Did they know something I didn’t?

Thank heavens for my mom.  She got it.  She knew how to break it down.  Start with an opinion and think about how I could support it.  Find some evidence that makes my argument stronger.  Paragraphs.  Transitions.  Evidence. Introduction. Conclusion.  I got this.  It wasn’t so scary with her help.

My mom gave me the foundation for every essay required after that seventh grade assignment.  She gave me the structure and confidence to tackle future writing endeavors, those with little instructional support.  I am still to this day so very grateful for her patience and guidance.  And I think today what writing instruction looks like in a Kinder classroom, a first, second, third, fourth and fifth grade classroom.  The tools we are giving our students today surpasses any “free write” or “journal writing” I did through my schooling.  We know better now, thanks to the work of Graves, Fletcher, Calkins et al.  It is because of these writing pioneers that our 2nd graders are quoting their favorite books, that 3rd graders are crafting bold thesis statements, and our 5th graders are constructing organized, developed essays with evidence galore.

I was lucky enough to have my writing teacher at home.  Today, I am lucky for the writing teachers I get to work with side by side.  My 7th grade self secretly thanks them.

For the Love of Reading

Eager eyes intently watched their playground door.

“Are they coming?”

“Wait, I think I see them!”

“Oh, they are here! They are here!”

Their teacher quiets the room and approaches the door.  A smile and wave and twenty-five teenagers enter the first grade classroom.  The seventh graders tower over the little ones, their smiles bright and wide, with picture book in hand, ready to share a beloved story with a new friend.  Today was our second annual Read Across Campus celebration.

The middle school students swiftly move around the room and curl up next to a buddy.  Some of them sit on fluffy pillows in the reading nook and some find a seat at a nearby desk, theirs knees touching the desks as they sit in chairs made for little legs and little bodies.

Word by word, page by page, stories and memories are shared.  New friendships are made and a love for reading celebrated.

Watching the connections between the middle school students today was a highlight of my school year.  So much that water swelled up in my eyes as I witness the gentleness of the teenagers and the idolization of the 1st graders.

Needless to say, I cannot wait for next buddy reading opportunity!