My Two Brothers

It's like my two big brothers

are leaving me

and going off to college.

These brothers, my friends,
my colleagues,

my principals are off to new challenges.

At least my big sister principal will still be there.

Like big brothers do
they have
challenged me,

inspired me, 

directed me,

redirected me,

led me,
provoked me,
tormented me,

accepted me,

encouraged me,

consoled me,

befriended me,

taught me,

and watched over me.

They have made me

a better teacher

by seeing the good in me,

meeting me where I am,

and encouraging me through 

the tough times 

in and out of the classroom.

They have read my lengthy emails,

responded to my texts,

listened to my venting,

helped me through my struggles,

helped me find my best self,

and helped me know when to let go or back down.

Like a lost little sister,
I don't know what I'll do
when they go away,
off to college,
their new challenges await,
and I am left at home,
without them
trying to find my way.

Even apart,

they will  always be a part

of my teacher identity,

servant leaders,

motivators,

challengers,

encouragers.

Their actions and words 

will be with me,

as I return to school next fall,

with new leadership,

new challenges, 

and new obstacles.

Imperfect Brilliance

Slicing every Tuesday with some great  friends/writers
I've never met, but I'm getting to know
at http://twowritingteachers.wordpress.com/

My jaggedness and roughness
tamed by time.
No longer sharp and cutting;
rounded and smooth
I bask in nature's splendor
as the water rushes over me.

My beauty not striking,
unless falling upon me,
the sun's radiance
in her generosity
reveals my shimmering brilliance,
catching your eye
and so you scoop me up.

You examine me.
Multi-faceted--complex,
my other side revealed.
My jaggedness protrudes,
rough to your touch,
rugged and unfinished;
my striking imperfections
no longer concealed.

I am the river stone.
Time has softened me
My defenses are down.
Here I lie in my imperfect brilliance.

I am the river stone,
not completely smoothed
my sharp words cut
my beauty concealed--
my imperfections revealed,
I am not done.

I hold my river stone;
we are one.
My quest is complete.
I clutch my river stone
Not wanting to let go.

I drop my river stone,
no longer my own,
waiting for the purifying water
to rush over me
cleansing my soul,
and softening my edges
once again.

Early Literacy Experiences in a Two Language Arts Teacher Family

We get figurative language at my house. Imagine two ela teachers with Michael and Sarah . My children's similes are so creative, often not the tired, old ones I see on paper. I could fill the pages of the book with their words--too bad I can't remember some of those creative similes right now. My son at an early age recognized sarcasm and would call his parents out on it. Lately, though, hyperbole is creating some family fun with words.

After School at Home with Michael, Age 8

My ela hubby said, "Michael, I've told you 1,000 times to pick up your socks."

Michael hollered down the hall, "Hyperbole."

Formative Assessment: Student can identify figurative language in various contexts and can distract parents with his witty comments.

Shopping with Sarah, Age 4

"Sarah, I guess we should finish up our shopping and go home. It's past dinner time."

"I'm so hungry I could eat a whole entire pig."

"That's hyperbole."

"Hyperbole, what's that?"

"It's when we exaggerate. You couldn't really eat a pig, could you?"

"Haha, no, but I'm really hungry."

"What's that word, girl?"

"Hy-hy-hyperbole."

"You got it, Sar-bear. You are going to be soooo ready for your language arts classes in school."

Formative Assessment: Student can use figurative language for desired effect.

Not Done Yet

What's wrong with me?
Students and teachers
alike wonder.
I still want to teach.

Hello? Over here--
The light's still on.
Students,
don't close your books,
and pack your bags.
Quit looking at the clock.
Quit looking at the calendar.
I'M NOT DONE YET!

I know we've taken "the test"
that concludes the year
for both young and old,
but not for me.

C'mon, let's
play with language,
explore themes.
Let's wonder and
have great discussions,
Let's explore our world.
I want to see
your lights turn on,
immersed in discourse
'cuz 'dis course is not over yet.

Wait, don't turn the light out.
Bear with me.
Despite all the signs--
removed or covered posters,
bubbling is done,
others have shut down
and spring fever is rampant.

Despite all you see around us,
we can't stop now,
I'm not teaching for a test.
I am teaching for life.
Please join me and learn with me,
side by side we are
readers,
writers,
thinkers,
discoverers.

We aren't done yet,
Nor will we ever be.
This journey never stops--
the journey of learning.

River Stone

Riverhouse Retreat 

(video trying to capture the sounds and beauty of  Fightingtown Creek, from the deck of the cabin where we stayed)

Riverhouse Retreat Writing Ideas from Spring Break Trip

• River stones smoothed by time--like my rough edges smoothed over time
• God's grandeur in nature
• The gift of hearing
• Peaceful chaos (the kids and dog)
• Contrast last year to this year--last year storm left us without electricity
• Hot tub time with kids/without kids
• Electronics' free day (sneaking moments to check email)
• Time to be
• Hiking
• Small town grocery shopping
• Relaxed doggy rules (cuddling the dog in bed)
• Cabin chotskys

River Stone

Bare feet in the cold river,
alternately sinking in mud,
then sliding across the stones. 

I bend over,
intrigued by the river stones.

The quest begins to find

my river stone.

A gray stone with rough edges smoothed over time,

the one smooth yet still jagged in several spots,

the patterned rock with the intricate designed webbing of black lines,

or the complex quartz of white, brown and gray,

another rounded and smooth yet suffering from a piece cut out long ago,

the pyrite, fool's gold, shimmering deception,

which one is my river stone?

River stones smoothed and weathered over time.

Not finding my perfect stone,

I hoard them in my pockets,
taking them all home with me.

In a jar on a shelf,
the stones dry out,

as do their shimmer, luster, and meaning,

and I am still searching for my river stone.

Finding Myself

Last week I wrote about being on a tightrope juggling all the many things in my life, and I realized, yes, I realized through that blog and many others last month that my mind and heart were burdened, burdened with too much to do and with not enough time or presence for my family.

With that in mind, I sent an email to my principals that for the sake of my family and my teaching and the burnout factor, they needed to make me say, "No more," to yearbook.

What I lose: 5 laptops, 2 desktops, 1 document camera, a nice little account to spend on things related to writing and technology, this iPad I am using right now, working with stellar writers to help them create and publish an amazing book that showcases the good stuff my school is all about.

What I gain: more family time, a happier husband (he picks up the kids, walks the dog, cooks dinner, does most of the cleaning--you get the picture), more peace, better teaching (more time to plan and grade at school), more sleep, my sanity), more time to write.

Don't get me wrong I am going to miss yearbook; however, I need to put my family first.

I think I will go back and revisit my poem about juggling. Life has given me new insight, as have my fellow
slicers. Thank you.

I just don't know what to do with myself, but as always I'll stay busy and frantic in my mind that doesn't know how to stop...

• The yearbook is done, except for the pages I want to have reopened because of minor editing and formatting errors.
• I don't have to write on my blog, but I want to write and want to comment on other blogs some more. I am afraid I might lose my new community and that special sharing of humanity.
• I don't have to do any schoolwork because I am on break, but I have piles of papers to grade. 
• I don't want to play Draw Something or Words with Friends, but my devices keep buzzing their reminders.
• I don't want to sweep the back deck, but the pollen keeps creeping in, and I am like Sisyphus with a broom.
• I don't want to fold laundry, but I must follow the orders of the beeping dryer.
• I don't want to cook dinner, but my husband is mowing, and I think I should.

I just want to be. I want to be quiet. I want to relax. I want to unwind. I want to stop all the ponderings of my mind and just take in the world around me, being present to the moment, being present to all the gifts God has given me...

Ahhhhh, the mountains are calling my name, and I will answer. Unfortunately, I will take the laptop with me, so I can open the pages as soon as the publisher opens them back for me and do a few minor adjustments. 

One of my days will be a day free of electronics. I read that on a slicer's blog, and I like that idea.  

Dinner to make...