Little Bits of Joy

I wasn't going to write today. Grades are due tomorrow. I've got lots to do. But two little moments happened today that I just have to share (and they make events of yesterday much less meaningful).

I went back to school this week invigorated after spending most of break participating in the Facebook/Twitter discussion of Penny Kittle's Book Love. I have spent two days talking books. We figured our reading rates, set our goals, made a plan.  We talked about the importance of reading and the amount of reading they will need to do in college. It helped in one class when the guidance counselor showed up at my door and backed up everything I was saying. I told students they needed a book picked out for next Monday. That's when we will officially start. I gave students time to find books or read.

A quiet, at-risk student came up to me as he was leaving and said, "Mrs. Day, would you pick out a book for me. I don't know what to read and you pick awesome ones."

My heart melted just a little bit.

I have several picked out for him that he can choose from tomorrow.

FYI, I gave him "The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian" last semester. He read it in a week.

The second bit of joy today happened in one of my speech classes as students were giving their introduction speeches.

A quiet, "A" student stood in front of the room, pulling items from her bag as she talked about herself.
"Like lots of you, I hate to read. Except for books Mrs. Day picks out for me. Those are awesome."

I gave her "Looking for Alaska" last semester. She fell in love with John Green. She wanted to know if he wrote anything else. He'll keep her busy for awhile....

Little reminders to myself:
Joy comes in small, quiet ways.
And we teach students, not classes.
One student at a time....

Two Sides to Every Story....

It all started because I forgot to take my
blood pressure pills and vitamins Monday
morning.

What started?  I don't know what she's talking

about.  I was just entertaining myself.

I went home during my prep because I

left my pills and vitamins on the counter.

The last time I did that, Chloe got the bottle 

off the counter and got the lid off.  

Thankfully, she didn't eat any of the pills,

but I found the bottle and the pills on her 

blanket, just outside of her kennel. I was 

worried she'd do it again, so I went home.

Really, shouldn't she have to warn me when 

she's coming home early?  I mean, when do 

I get a little privacy in this place?

I walked into the house. The first thing

I saw were chewed up kleenex on the rug.

Great. She's gotten into the bathroom 

garbage. At least there wasn't a huge mess.

Maybe I'll pretend to be asleep. If I don't come

out of my kennel, she won't yell at me.

And then, I saw the kitchen. 

Geez, oh geez, oh geez.  I think she noticed the 

kitchen. I promise Santa. I was going to clean

up my  mess. Really I was. She just came  home 

too early! 

What a mess!  Garbage all over. You 

couldn't even see the floor. Yogurt cups,

butter wrappers, plastic containers, and 

coffee grounds. Everywhere. It was 

everywhere...

I was a little bored after they both left. and  I
haven't gotten much exercise lately.
I just smelled something soooo good in the can.
It was driving me crazy, so I had to find out
what it was. And I didn't finish supper last night, 
so I was kinda hungry.  And, well, I love yogurt. And 
then there was a hamburger wrapper and some
bread and....well, you get it. One thing led to another.

And Chloe?  The barker? The snoopy one

who greets everyone at the door. She didn't 

get out of her kennel. She lay there with her head

hanging over the door frame of her kennel, looking out 

from under her eyebrows...

They yell at me all the time for barking 

in the house , and now she's mad  because

I DIDN'T bark in the house. Jeesh. You

just can't please some people.

I start picking up the big pieces of garbage

(Remember, I was just running home for a

few minutes. It's my PREP time.) Guess 

who slinks out of her kennel? 

She wasn't yelling. In fact, she was 

kind of smiling. I thought it was safe.

Butt wagging, smiling and so glad to see

me. It was hard to be mad.

Puppy dog eyes. Gets her every time.

Snow Dog

It snowed here on Sunday. Big fluffy flakes. Picture postcard perfect flakes. Beautiful for a first snow, although I'm sure the same snow in February or March won't be near so beautiful or perfect.

I don't think Chloe remembered what that white stuff was. At first she just went out, did her business and came back in. It wasn't until we went in the back yard to play that she really got the white stuff figured out.

And then she went nuts.

I tried to play fetch, but the cold air made her frisky. She growled and jumped and did her happy, crazy race around the yard. She stuck her nose in it, tasted it and rolled in it.

And then, I tried to make a snowman.

I start the perfect ball. Get it rolled just right. Put it in the perfect spot.

Chloe thought the ball was for her. It must have looked like a fun toy. Surely if she picked it up and ran, I would chase her. Every time I made a ball, she dove in. Sometimes she tried to eat it. Sometimes she tried to roll it with her nose. I never did get a festive holiday snowman made for my yard.

But, I do have a snow dog...

The Unwritten Vow

It wasn't part of our wedding vows, but it should have been.

I dealt with poopy diapers and poop in the yard.  I dealt with puking kids and puking animals. I kept turtles and frogs and fish in the house when everyone knows those creatures live in the wild (I drew the line at snakes). I killed my share of spiders and other creepy crawlies.

BUT

I will not deal with mice and dead critters.  That's his job. (I'm sure it's written in a husband handbook somewhere.) And it is a hard and fast rule in our house (It tops my No gifts with cords rule).

So when I saw the tell-tale signs of a mouse in the house, I followed the rule and told my husband about it.

"Oh, no. Are you sure?" 

Am I sure? Really? As I am taking all the dish towels out of the drawer and washing them (I'd really like to throw them all and get new ones, but that may be a little extreme), he asks me if I'm sure.

I give him "the look".

"OK. I'll get something tomorrow."

The next night he came home with glue traps. GLUE TRAPS.  The mouse runs across them and gets stuck to the trap. He, of course, talked to people all day about what to use.

"These work great," he proclaims.

"Fine," I answer. "But I will NOT be touching those things after I put them out.  That's your job."

He chuckles. "I know."

A couple of days go by. No signs of anything. Of course, it has warmed up outside. The critters don't need to come in and get warm. Each day I take a peek inside the cupboard under the sink and the towel(less) drawer.

And then it happens.

I peek in the drawer and there it is. A mouse stuck to the trap. I'm sure I looked and sounded like a cartoon character.

"Oooo, oo, oo.  Greeeeggggg.  There's a mouse in the drawer.

"Are you sure?"

Really? Again with the are you sure?  Just because I'm running from a mouse stuck in a glue trap, you question what I saw?

He laughs as he walks to the kitchen (shouldn't he be running to save me?). Opens the drawer. Yep, there's a mouse in there.  He grabs a plastic bag.

"Well, come out here and hold the sack and help me."

Really? I have a serious case of the heebie-jeebies and he wants me to hold the sack.

I don't think so.

"No. I told you when you bought the damn glue traps that I would have nothing to do with this. I will not hold the sack."

He laughs at me again.

"Come on. Just hold the sack.You don't have to touch it or anything. I'll pull out the drawer and dump it in."

See, he's not too fond of this either.

"Oh, I think it's still alive. Maybe I'll get it tomorrow."

Yeah. And I won't be helping you then, either.

Enjoy more Slice of Life stories at Two Writing Teachers!

Where I'm Headed

I first heard about flip classrooms last year. And, true to form, I began reading and learning all I could about them. I didn't jump right in. I sat back and watched and learned.  Here's what I believe and where  I am headed (and in many ways, I'm already there).

Flip class--giving students what they need when they need it. Not on my time. Their time. So I'm not flipping lectures. If I need to say something to the whole class, then I'll talk to the whole class (and record it for those who are absent. A bonus for those kids who want to go back and see it again.) And maybe that's blended learning.....

Flip class--expecting students to take charge of their learning. Yes. I know I have to help them along the way. Yes. I am the teacher. Yes. I need to give them a gentle nudge once in awhile.  But they need to take charge. What do they need to know to move forward in their learning?  I expect them to tell me and find some of the information themselves.

Google it. The most powerful words I know.

If I want to learn more about something, I first google it and get the basics. Then I find a book. Then I find people who know more than I do. Or sometimes, I flip this. I go to the people first. I move on to google. Then I find a book. It really depends on what I want to know more about.

And I don't limit myself to those things--I blog and love the comments. I use Twitter. I have asked my Facebook friends. I ask students.

Flipped Learning. That's where I'm going. I expect my students to take control of their lives and their learning.

Besides modeling what a lifelong reader and a lifelong writer look like, I want to show them what a lifelong learner looks like.

Because I am one.

What Do People Need to Learn to Write

Last week, Ruth Ayres wrote a thought provoking post over at Two Writing Teachers. At the same time, I have been struggling with where I want my Creative Writing classes and English 9 classes to go.  I can see in my head my ideal classroom, but the reality is ugly. We're not there. And I'm not sure of the road I'm taking. So, the questions Ruth asked got me thinking and questioning myself and exploring and writing. The results, my beliefs about writing, will be here, in a series of posts.


I learned to write by writing. Sounds simple, doesn't it.

But it's not that simple. I really believe there is much more to it.

People need time to learn to write. A dedicated time in their day where the focus will be putting pen to paper---or fingers to keys--and they write. And how do I know this? Because I haven't been making that time. I find all kinds of other little time suckers and I haven't been writing. Not like I used to. And in my classroom, I sometimes just need to step back and let my kids write.  Conferencing is good. Mini lessons are good. But sometimes, those are time suckers too. The other day I asked my students if they needed me. Did they need me to conference? Did we need to talk about ideas some more?  Or did they just need me to shut up and get out of the way. They just smiled and told me they were fine. They just needed the time to put fingers to keys and get those thoughts down.

People also need time to play and practice.  This semester I been more intentional about sharing mentor texts and sharing my own writing.  It seems to have freed up my students imaginations. Before starting their own pieces, we play around with the mentor texts.  We use them as templates. We write from prompts I have intentionally chosen (most of the time) for the type of writing we are doing. All before they actually choose what they are going to write.  By the time I finally turn them loose, most are begging to get started.

People need freedom.
Freedom of choice, most of all. The freedom to choose what they will write about. The freedom to choose how they will write. While I try to have all my students write the same type of text, such as informative pieces or fiction pieces, HOW they write it is up to them. Right now my students are writing fiction pieces. I've read drafts of children's stories, ABC books, short stories and stories in verse.

People need the freedom to choose NOT to write at a particular time, choosing instead to think, to stare off into space, to listen to music until something lands in their brain that begs to be written. I have students who sometimes just need to think. And, I understand that. I do too. The writing of this post is taking several days.  I need to process my thoughts. I need to figure out my words.  So do my students.

People need effort.
Their own effort. Writing is hard. Harder some days than others. Some days it is so easy to leave the writing behind and get caught up in those time sucking tasks. But in order to write something worthwhile, something relevant, something heartfelt, a writer has to give their best effort and they have to sustain that effort. I think sometimes that is the hardest thing for my students---sustaining effort (who am I kidding? It's the hardest thing for me too.). Beginning a piece of writing, working hard on it for 40 minutes and then leaving it, only to return the next day, makes it difficult to sometimes to sustain that effort. Momentum is lost. I constantly struggle with how to help them come back to a piece with the same intensity and effort that they left with. In the end, I think it has to come from inside the writer.

People have to be willing to fail spectacularly.
I know. That sounds odd coming from a teacher. We aren't supposed to let anyone fail. But, I don't mean to fail the class or the assignment. People need to try new things and write in new ways. And while they are writing in these new ways, they have to know that what they write may not be perfect. Their audience may not like it. The words may not come. They may fail.

And it's OK. Because a writer can go back and fix their failures.  A writer goes back and tries again. A writer goes back and tries a new way to say things. A writer goes back.....

Sometimes It Gets Ugly

I'm starting a personal narrative unit with my freshmen, so in looking for mentor texts, I decided to share a couple of blogs posts with them. I wanted them to see how to take a small, everyday moment and explode it into a piece of writing.

I've discovered that since sharing with all of you on this blog, I don't mind sharing my writing with my students. It gives me another audience and it lets them see that when I talk about writing, I know a little something.

As I was reading, I discovered something...

I write a lot about the successes in my classroom. It sounds like a magical place to be.

But

It's not.

Sometimes,

it's just plain ugly.

For every boy who comes in, excited about his poetry, there's five more who would rather do homework for other classes, check out Craig's list, and watch videos on YouTube.  By the way, the tech guy in our district called me one day when a boy was on Craig's List, that's how I know it happens.  The truth is, in teaching an elective class on writing, you get kids in your class who DON'T LIKE TO WRITE!

I know. Hard to believe.

For every student who writes a wonderful, intense memoir in verse, there's the others who if feels like I have to drag words out of their mouths with my hands.

I might convince a student to come to school every day for a week....
But then she misses two days the next week.

Here's the truth. My teaching is sometimes just down right ugly. Ugly days I'd just as soon forget. Ugly days I'd like to take back and start over.

There are days I am behind my desk just way to much.
Days I spend Creative Writing time grading papers or planning for the afternoon classes instead of talking with my writers.

I'm STILL working with 9th graders to make them thinkers and learners instead of receptacles. Many days, I feel like I'm trying to herd cats. Reading and writing workshop--forget it.

Ugly days.

But

Sometimes, those ugly days end with an email from a student:

"Sooo I really miss creative writing and being able to write everything that was on my mind down and have someone read it and comment and feel everything I'm feeling.  Are there any writing competitions or anything I can do stuff for?  I really miss just showing the emotions I normally hide..."

And then, I put the ugly days back in the closet and celebrate small successes....

Sometimes They Still Surprise Me

I know most of my students pretty well. I work really hard at knowing them. I learn about boyfriends/girlfriends, out of school activities, jobs, sports, music, family, books. You name it, I really try to find out about it.

But, once in awhile, one of them surprises me.

Today was one of those surprises. It started with a phone call...

"Sorry to bother you in the middle of class. H has some questions about some poetry you are doing in creative writing. Can he come down or are you in the middle of a lecture?"

Lecture? Me?

"Send him down. My students are recording today. I've got the time to visit with him."

Now, you should know that this is the same young man I wrote about last week. We're getting to the meat of his story, but it still has a ways to go.

He saunters in. I really expect to tell him that he doesn't have to write poetry. I just want him to try a draft of it.

"So," he begins, "last night, when I got home from work, I wrote this and I just wondered if this is what you want."

He hands me his phone.

"You wrote a poem after work last night?"  H does not do homework.

"Yea. I write a lot of poetry."

"You do?????" I am incredulous.  This was not what I expected. Not from H. And the poem--it's really good.

"Yea. Why do you think I took Creative Writing? I have lots of poems at home."

"Really? Will you let me read them?"

"I have to type them all up???"

"No. just bring them to me and let me read them. You can use some of them for this assignment."

"OK. Sure. I'll bring them in tomorrow."

We also had a conversation about sharing--I've figured out that he comes to me during his study hall because he doesn't want to conference during class when his friends are around. I promised I wouldn't share it. I promised I wouldn't let his friends know. But I let him know that I thought the poem was really good.

H comes to class next hour with a typed copy of the poem for me. But first, HE SHARES WITH HIS FRIENDS! They think he copied and pasted. They google it. They don't find it. They ARE impressed.

And now, it hangs on my Pride Wall.

I love surprises.

Don't Be Boring...

I love my drama class.

Most of them are my "Speech kids"...those kids who work with me from November through March to go to contest.  But there are also about five who just took Drama because they needed an English credit. They are, however, very talented and fit right in with my kids.

The assignment I give the first day of school is called "Don't Be Boring".  Students can do anything they want in one to three minutes. They just can't be boring.  It's purpose is to get them to perform right away. There's nothing worse than waiting for days before you have to perform in front of the class, even if you know them well.

This class showed some talent--I had a student play the ukelele and sing a Jason Mraz song. One sang, another played her clarinet, several told stories.

And when we were done, they wanted to do it again.

They seemed to have a new found respect for the others in the class--especially those they didn't know well.

"I just learn so much about people with this," said one of my senior contest speech students.

So, we planned another one for last Friday.  A couple were gone, and we ran out of time for a couple of others, so we finished up on Monday.

Again, I was blown away by some of the talent in my classroom. This time we had an acting piece, someone played piano on computer and we went to the band room for a percussion piece. There were also two dance numbers and several oral interpretation pieces

When the last person performed today, the same contest speech senior said, "Why aren't these people out for speech?"

"Yea," said another. "These are better than most of the things we saw at districts. And they didn't have much practice time."

Why indeed.

There are several things I love about this. But the main one is that my very talented contest speech students recognize talent when they see it. And instead of viewing this talent as competition, they look at great additions to our team. And they encourage and recruit those people to join us.

And the next "Don't Be Boring" Day is scheduled for September 21.  I can't wait to see what they come up with next.

Practicing What I Teach

After reading and discussing Write Beside Them by Penny Kittle this summer with a group of blogging friends, I vowed I would write more WITH my Creative Writing students. Today's prompt I really like ("stolen" Diana at One Literacy Coach)

Things I Didn't Do This Summer:

I didn't go to the hospital when I rolled my ankle (although I think I should have)

I didn't get to see Los Lonely Boys in concert in Arnold's Park (although we went to another concert and saw them.

I didn't enjoy the excessive heat we had for much of the last part of the summer (although I found ways to beat it)

I didn't miss my grandchildren ( I saw them a lot)

I didn't read near enough books

I didn't break any records in golf

I didn't write all I wanted

I didn't catch the bouquet at one of the weddings I attended this summer

I didn't cry when school started

Something Just for Fun
I found this video through Pinterest this morning and thought I would share. It just made me happy:

My New Year's Resolutions

And here we are. Another summer gone. Another school year starting. And let me tell you a little secret...

I'm really, really excited to start school. Not necessarily the professional things we are doing before kids come, but the real school. You know...when the kids come.

As I did last year, I thought I would write down my resolutions for the new year.  Last year I referred back to these many times throughout the year. It kept me on track. Reminded me to keep reading my professional books. Kept me focusing on my quotes.  I felt better about my teaching and my life because of writing them down.


When I look at my resolutions, I don't feel like I did as well as I could have using technology in my classroom.  I wanted to integrate it into units more than I did, so I am keeping that resolution:

1. Teach Web 2.0 tools to my students and ask them to use them to display their learning.
I have learned several new tools this summer and have been writing down ideas for them.  I want to keep this list posted somewhere handy and get this technology into my students hands--starting day 1!

2. Implement new writing ideas learned from Penny Kittle and Kelly Gallagher.
I read books by both of them this summer--Write Beside Them by Kittle and Write This Way by Gallagher.  The ideas in these books fit well together and I need to be conscious in using the ideas. They both emphasize using personal stories and topics that students are familiar with to increase their confidence in their writing ability.




3. CONNECT  
I didn't do such a great job connecting with my freshmen at the beginning of last year. I feel terrible about that.  It took us a long time to become a community.This year, I am going to spend the first five days connecting with them--learning names, learning about their passions and what drives their lives. Freshmen, especially, need to make those adult connections. We'll complete activities together that will help us learn about each other and how we work. We'll do some writing and sharing. We'll talk about books we like and don't like. But mostly, we'll talk and get to know each other.

And I'm going to show them this video by John Green. If you haven't seen it, take a look. It's worth the watch:

Summer Memories

Yesterday Jo Knowles posted one last Teacher's Write prompt.  Find a picture and write a list poem.  It's been rolling around in my head since then...
I think this is also going to be one of my first prompts for my students

It's over.

Summer, I mean. 

Where did it go? 

One day it was here and 

the next it was

Soaked up by the sun

Blown away by the wind

Lapped up by the waves

Memories

Play around in my mind

Giggling grandkids

Sitting in the lake

Squirt guns

Golf days spent searching for the shade

Concerts with friends

Fireworks

Lovely weddings

Long lovely days of 

doing 

absolutely 

nothing

Summer promises to be back

in the 

Tinkling of ice cubes

Caressing of warm breezes and

Screeching of the gull

Warm afternoons 

But the chill in the mornings

Evenings of sweatshirts and fires

Announces 

Autumn's arrival

I Don't Wanna, and You Can't Make Me

Chloe and I enjoy wonderfully lazy mornings at the lake.  I usually wake up to her sleeping at the foot of my bed. She lifts her head as if too say, "It's too early to get up", then crawls up and snuggles in against me for some cuddle time. Many mornings I wouldn't need a shower because of all the puppy kisses I get (well, if I was a dog).

This morning was typical. After cuddle time, I started the coffee and took a shower, while Chloe was outside. I watched some Olympics, read and commented on a couple of blogs, checked my Twitter and Facebook. Feeling a little guilty, I went outside with a cup of coffee to see how Chloe was doing. She didn't get up when I sat down. Laying in the shade, she was keeping track of all that was going on in the resort. Chris was raking the beach, Larry was outside having coffee, kids were on the swing.  Things were as they should be.

Eventually, I thought we should go for our walk, as we do every morning. Best to get it done before the  heat kicks in.  I hook her up and off we go.

We stop and see Larry for a second and Chloe seems full of spunk today. As we leave, she grabs her leash in her mouth, as if she's taking me for a walk. Jumping, leaping down the road. Mentally, I am planning the things I want to get done today (mind flip--I'm ready to get back to work. Shhh. Don't tell anyone!)  She gets her "business" done early, but we keep walking. Chloe needs a lot of exercise!

We walk as far as a friend's house. Chloe comes to a dead stop. Does she want to go a different direction?  I give a tug, and stay on our path. She walks a few feet and stops again. I tug again. She stops again.

Evidently, we don't want to walk any farther.

I turn around and head back to Sandbar.

Chloe tries to run. Sorry, honey, we ain't runnin'.

We get back to the trailer and she heads for the door. A drink of water, a treat, and she heads for the couch and her pillow.

Time for a nap, I guess.

Heartshots

Chloe is a big dog...she weighs about 50 pounds and is VERY strong Trust me. When we walk, if she wants to go somewhere, she's going to go. And she's wild. Crazy. Jumps on people. Barks and growls. She can sound very ferocious. Max, our next to the youngest grandchild, is a little peanut. At a year and a half, he is fearless. The two of them are becoming great buddies.

This may be part of the reason....

Friday morning, Max and I are sitting at the kitchen table in the cabin. Max has a handful of dry cereal on his tray that he is supposed to be eating. He jabbers away at me, telling me stories in Maxspeak, that I pretend to understand. I'm not really paying attention to what else is going on.

Then I notice that Max's little hand keeps reaching down under the table. A big grin spreads across his face and he jabbers at me. Pretty soon, the hand goes under the table again. More jabber.

"Max, no food for Chloe!"

He looks at me. Must be wondering just how serious I am. And slowly, picks up a piece of cereal, and hands it to Chloe under the table. Then a huge grin takes over his face. I am lost. I can't help but laugh at both of them.

And no wonder Chloe doesn't eat until the middle of the night when the grandkids come to visit!

Later in the day, the sweetest fifteen minutes of the summer happened.

Chloe found a small spot on the couch to curl up on. I'm sure she thought she was going to sneak in a nap.  Max was running around the cabin getting into all those things that toddlers do. He noticed Chloe on the couch and went up and patted her paw and laid his head on her. He did this several times, each time turning to me and telling me about it in Maxspeak. Soon, he was trying to climb up on the couch, but there was no room. Pillows and bedding were piled everywhere.

I moved the pillows.

Max pulled himself up on the couch, then leaned over and gave Chloe a big hug and kiss. Then he just laid his little head down on her and sighed. Or maybe the sigh came from Chloe. They were both very content and just stayed there together for awhile. It was seriously the sweetest thing I had ever seen. This great big dog and this little boy, cuddled together. This heartshot will stay with me for a long time. It's one of those moments I wish I could put in a jar and take out when I needed a smile.

But young dogs and toddlers don't stay quiet for long. There was a lick and kiss and then they were both down and on their way.


By the way, "heartshot" isn't my term. It comes from Barry Lane and his books on teaching writing. I just love it.

A Walk Along the Lake

Come on. You know you wanna. Come along with Chloe and I as we take our morning walk down the gravel lake road.

Yea!  Come on.  There's lots to explore. And maybe today will be the day Mom will let me loose to run! Let's just start down the road!


Chloe and I love to walk in the mornings at the lake, before it becomes too hot and the activities for the day start.  We walk along these little gravel roads that run along the lake.  Usually gentle breezes come off the lake to keep us cool. Unless, like Monday, they were hurricane force. Then it's not fun to walk!

Here it is! Here it is!  The perfect place to let me run. Don't you think this looks like a great place. Lots of space and trees. Pretty please with sugar on top? Please let me off my leash......


Sorry, Chloe. The highway is too close. I'm afraid you would run right to the road.  But, it is tempting because I can just see you smiling as you race around here.  Come on. Let's keep going.

The road we walk isn't continuous. It's really a series of little lanes to each group of cabins.  Every so often we come across these little barriers so that cars can't drive through.  Chloe and I love that there is no traffic as we walk.

This is one of my favorite things on our walk this year.  I always have to stop and marvel at it.  Sits outside of a log cabin.

Yea...whatever.  Keep walking!

Look, look, look....a critter of some kind. Let me at 'em.  


Dang. It's not real.


Get's her every time.....

Chloe and I have been watching the development of this home for a couple of years now.  Today they are pouring cement for a driveway.

Grrrrrr.....

This is my favorite place of all on our walk. It is owned by a very nice older couple who don't mind me stopping and enjoying their view.  It is a beautifully kept little cottage with a double lot for the ground, filled with these wonderful shade trees.  A welcome stop on a hot day.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can we please keep going?

OK, Chloe. We'll quit talking til we get to the end of the road. But I'm taking some pictures on the way back.

Come on. It's the same places going home....


Nope. I look at different things on the way back. If you pick your nose off the ground once in awhile, maybe you'd notice.... Ahh. Here we are at the end of the road. We'll turn around now.

This is a beautiful little rock garden on our way back.  Pretty little plantings. But what I really like are the blue wine bottles perched on sticks throughout.  I don't know if they make a sound with the wind, or if the people just found a way to get rid of wine bottles, but I really like this little area.

I always stop and check out this little flower garden at my favorite cottage.  It's just such a peaceful little place. If it were me, I'd have a comfy chair set up somewhere close so I could read here.

If it were me, I'd be diggin'!

There it is!  The cat! And it's not hiding under the pick up today. Maybe it'll play with me today. Let's go see, huh?

After almost two miles, this is always a welcome sight, the entrance to the resort where our trailer is at.  By this time, even Chloe has slowed down.

Ahhh, here we are. Home sweet home. I'm ready for a glass of lemonade and a good book. Hope you enjoyed your walk with us today.

Hey, come on back tomorrow. I'm sure she'll let me run then. Maybe we can play fetch in the field.  I'm gonna make friends with that cat too!

Grandma's Kitchen

The Monday morning warmup from Jo Knowles was to describe a kitchen from our childhood.  Grandma's kitchen I decided, made a perfect slice.  And, yes, this is the same grandma as Grandma's Garage.

Quite simply, it smelled of love.

There was always something cooking or baking in Grandma's kitchen, especially on Sundays.  Sunday dinners put most restaurant buffets to shame. Grandma and Grandpa started cooking early in the morning, and it seemed like the stove or oven was going all day. A beef roast and a pork roast cooked together in a roaster (because it made the best gravy to cook them together), pork cutlets or chicken fried in a nearby pan. Potatoes boiled. Macaroni and cheese baked in the oven (called witch's brew when it was warmed up for supper). Pies cooled on the counter--lemon merengue, banana cream, French Silk chocolate, and always an apple.  Recipes never skimped on ingredients--real whipped cream, pie crusts from lard, butter for potatoes.  You didn't try to diet on Sunday.

The grown-ups gathered at the kitchen table for dinner. The seven grandkids sat in the "breezeway". Conversation flowed from room to room, as food passed around the table.  If you were hungry when you left the table, it was your own fault.

After the dinner was cleared and dishes were done, we moved on to the activities of the day.  Often we grandkids were herded up and taken to the movies (I have a special fondness for John Wayne/Clint Eastwood/cowboy movies to this day). If it was nice outside, we might be able to talk Grandpa into a hike through the woods.

But my favorite Sundays were the days we played cards.

When I finally got to start playing cards with the grownups I felt like I had arrived. Grandma taught us all to play cards at that kitchen table.  And you always played for money. Your money. If you didn't have money to play, you could "earn" it, but Grandma never gave it to you. We first learned 500 Rummy. Then Pitch, 500. And finally Poker--all those goofy "ladies" games with lots of jokers.  Grandma never let us win. If you beat her a card game, you really beat her, and she loved it.  If you made mistakes playing, you heard about it, and you better not make that mistake again.  I loved playing cards with her.

Sundays ended as they began, with food.  Dinners remains were pulled from the fridge and warmed up. We gathered around the kitchen table and laughed and joked about the day.

Grandma and Grandpa's  house was my safe haven as a kid. I always knew I was loved there. When life got tough at home, I could ride my bike to see them. We'd sit at the kitchen table, have a cookie and a glass of milk and I could spill my troubles. After an hour or so, I'd feel better and ride back home, ready to face the world again.

A "Wasit" Weekend

Geese family visiting the resort.

Memorial weekend at the lake is a time for family.  Everyone here had family at one time or another over the weekend.  Saturday started a little cool and cloudy, but it didn't stop us from enjoying the weekend.

Rock throwing

The grandkids never want to be inside, even the littlest one. Max is 17 months and really just finding his words.  So whatever we did, wherever we went, "Wasit?" Like his older brother and sister, one of his favorite things to do is throw rocks in the lake (it really should be filled by now).  

First swim of the season.

The older two, of course, wanted to swim. We held them off as long as we could, but when the sun came out, they went in.  At first, they were the only two swimming, but it wasn't long before most of the kids were in the water with them, while the adults in beach chairs on shore and shivered just thinking about swimming.  This grandma just smiled as they splashed about--you see, it doesn't seem that long ago it was me swimming in the lake on Memorial weekend. It was tradition--no matter the weather.

Tony and Grandpa

Sunday was HOT.  So the kids swam most of the morning, but we did find a little time on Sunday for golf. We took all three kids--even little Max, who was just thrilled to get to ride in the golf cart and be outside.

Kisses for Chloe

Chloe enjoyed the weekend too. I thought she was going to shake her tail off when our youngest son and his family showed up Saturday morning. She was so excited to see he and the kids. And the kids love her, so all was right in Chloe's universe. It's pretty funny watching Max with her. Chloe is taller than he is, but so gentle with him. Well, sometimes she forgets herself and Max will get knocked down, but Max just giggles and gets up and goes to her again.

Chloe's a pretty good sport too, at these family gatherings.  I'm not sure how she really feels about wearing the Barry Manilow shirt, but she posed for the picture anyway.

My favorite parts of the weekend were not the big things, however. They were the quiet moments spent with the grandkids, one on one. Finding out favorite books, talking about kindergarten, naming everything in the cabin.  Moments not shown in photographs, but "heartshots"  to remember and cherish.

Christmas Week

So, maybe I am overdoing the end of the year posts, but I'm like a little kid the week before Christmas.

I'm being really, really good.

• I graded one class of study guides and Romeo and Juliet tests FRIDAY NIGHT (I never do homework on a Friday night!)
• I graded the other class's study guides and tests Sunday night.
• I graded Speeches.
• The above two took FOUR hours Sunday night.
• I stayed after school until 5:30 last night and graded all the Creative Writing portfolios. 
• I graded the speeches that were presented Monday and the late turn ins of study guides when I got home last night.

Students are done today at 12:15.

I am done Wednesday at 3:00 (at least I hope I have everything done by then).

By Thursday afternoon, I hope to be at the lake.  

My husband is very busy this week.  He's an offset pressman (prints newspapers). Their deadline is for Memorial Day is early, so he thinks it may be late on Friday before he can leave. If it's too late, he doesn't want to leave until Saturday morning.

I told him I am leaving without him. He can drive himself.  

He agreed.  Really. He said he doesn't blame me (Of course, he has gone two different weekends without me when I couldn't go). 

I love my husband.  He really does understand the need I have to get to the lake at the end of the school year.

I can't wait until my biggest decision of the day is what book to read.

I Just Can't Help It

It's a beautiful day in northeast Iowa. Sun is shining. Birds are singing.

And I am "stuck" in the classroom.

I know. That sounds so negative.  I don't mean to be, but like the kids I teach, I am ready to be done.  I'm trying to make the last few days (5) as engaging as possible, but it's tough.  I hate the phrase "winding down" because it seems like that means we aren't doing anything.

BUT

Make no mistake, we are doing things---

• We are putting together writing portfolios and and reflecting on the journey we have been on this semester
• We are putting the finishing touches on "graduation" speeches to be delivered in the next few days
• Act 5 of Romeo and Juliet awaits us.  

BUT

My view from the deck

I can't help think of summer and all I want to do:

• Spend as much time as I can at the lake
• READ The Maze Runner trilogy
• Work on "flipping" creative writing--videos, powerpoints, handouts, etc so I can get off to a flying start in August
• READ Wonderstruck
• I need to review my curriculum for Drama since I will be teaching it again next year
• READ The Future of Us
• Create a new English 9 web site
• READ Write Like This
• Review activities in for my speech class. It needs an update
• READ Beauty Queens
• Golf a lot
• READ Crank, Glass and Fallout
• See a few concerts at the park
• READ The Running Dream
• Swim with the grandkids
• READ whatever else I want
• Enjoy myself and relax

The pile of books I'm working on taking home is quite large.  I don't know if I will get them all read, but I'm sure going to try!

And now, back to writing the Romeo and Juliet final test....

Can't Never Did Anything

An ostrich. That's what he always reminded me of. A very tall man, he wore black framed glasses that always seemed to be at the end of his Jimmy Durante nose.  He was about as big around as a corn stalk, with the longest, skinniest legs I'd ever seen on human being. He could sit in a chair, cross the left leg over the right,  then tuck the left foot behind the right leg and have both feet FLAT on the floor.

Really. Try it. Then get back to me.

He scared the crap out of me the first time I had him for class. It seemed like he bellowed all the time. He didn't, but it seemed like it. He treated everyone the same, whether they were in plays or not. If you took a speech or drama class from him, then you better be ready to perform. And you better do your best. When he came up to me and asked me to try out for the school play, I was afraid to say no.

But I was also thrilled.

That was Mr. Gail Niceswanger (how'd you like that name as a high school teacher?)--my high school speech and drama coach. The greatest teacher I ever had.

During rehearsals, there was the ever present thermos of coffee at his feet, a pencil tucked behind his ear, and, if rehearsals were going all sorts of wrong, there was a cigarette in the corner of his mouth and a cloud of smoke circling his head.

Mr. Niceswanger never let you give anything less than your best. As a sophomore, out for my first play, I made the mistake of telling him I couldn't do something he'd asked of me.

"Porter," (he seldom called people by their first names), "Can't never did anything."

Huh?

But I got it.  If you don't try things, you don't know if you can do them.  You have to at least try.

I worked harder for him than at any time in my life.  I like to think he smiles down on me when he sees me coaching speech and taking kids to All-State. I like to think he approves of the activities in my speech and (yea) drama classes (next year!).

I never thanked him for the confidence he gave me during my high school years. I believe if it wasn't for him, I would have given up, not graduated college, never became a teacher, even though it's all I ever wanted to do.

Sometimes, we teach kids more than reading and writing and math.

Sometimes, we give them wings.

So, thanks Mr. Niceswanger.  I wouldn't be here without you.