Missing those 4th Grade Chicken Wings

Part of my job has placed me in rooms with people much smarter, the kind who say nuggets of truth that make you go yes, why hasn't everyone thought of that?  All the while nodding along. 

There was one man in one room I was in who wrote a book or something - I'm not the best with details like that, just ask my friends and family if I can quote a movie.  The answer?  No.  Heck no.  So, he wrote a book.  I can't remember the name of it.  Nor can I remember his name.  But I do remember vividly him saying this, "Fences are perception and there's always that one cow who understands this and gets outside of them and always will." 

Now, you might be thinking I've become a veterinarian or a professional cattle tamer, but no.  Heck no.  He was using an analogy to make the connection between his growing up on a ranch and becoming an educator.  We put fences around students.  The rules of school.  Here's how we learn.  Sit here and listen to me.  But there are always those few who need outside of those fences - those perceptions.  They need a different reality and they will get out and always will.  Just like those cows.  

I think this hit home with me because I also grew up around stubborn cows, those cows.  There was one red lady bovine who would literally shut her long eyelashed eyes and simply walk over you.  She would.  All with this air of, watch this.  I'm bigger and I'm stronger and I will get to where you think I shouldn't go.  

Oh how I wish I could give this same power to those students, the ones who need different fences than the norm.  I wish I could tell them to shut their long eyelashed eyes and walk on through.  

Tell them that one day, someone will get them.  Someone will understand they need something different to discover their own genius.  

The one thing I miss the most about being a classroom teacher?  Getting those kids in my room, I loved those kids.  

If I could hope one tiny morsel of something it would be that in all of this running around and standing in front of groups of other educators, that the notion that it's our responsibility to change the fences would stick.  And stick hard.  I believe we have to sometimes let our adult preferences go in school and do what is truly best for kids.  

Kids?  They aren't the same anymore.  Captain obvious speaking here.  

They can't be taught the same way as fifty years ago, thirty years ago, ten years ago...they almost need to be taught more so than academics, the things that used to be assumed.  The things that go like this - I care about you as an adult in your life.  I will teach you that you won't touch your cupcake until everyone has one.  I will teach you that you will look at each other when you speak.  I will teach you that you will not be afraid to say your opinion.  I will teach you that you have to try hard things and do hard things until they are done.  I will teach you that I will not rescue you from your mistakes but rather let you figure those items out on your own.  I will teach you that you are not entitled to one thing in these four walls of my classroom, but rather that you will earn them - including my respect.  I will not fluff and buff you - when you fail, you fail and when you succeed, you succeed big.     

All that?  

I miss that.  

So I hope that when I stand in front of a large room with my cowboy boots on and my arms flying that it might mean something.  A tiny morsel of something for a kid out there somewhere.  

Because kids are where it's at.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all about the academics too.  I just think they fall in place a bit more when we care about the kid behind the pencil first.  

"Yesterday, I was clever so I wanted to change the world.  Today, I am wise so I am changing myself."  Rumi

All kids are someone's daughter, someone's son, someone's sister or brother, and someone's niece or someone's nephew.  Love them up.

Reading, Writing, and Hiney Kicking

"Readers, writers, and thinkers...we are going to learn something that you can use today and every single day for the rest of your life."

 

I had to do some presenting on nonfiction writing yesterday to our district with a wonderful coworker and ended up with marker all over my face and hands and went over time by a solid 20 minutes each session. I guess I can get a bit passionate about the difference between teaching writing and assigning writing. Either that or I really need to lay off the coffee. I think I'll just stick with that writing needs to be a part of the air breathed in every classroom. Because coffee isn't going anywhere.

 

In another life, I want to open a school.  Anyone know any big investors who'd want to help with that?  Send them my way.  I say that flippantly, but seriously.   

 

 

I finished up my day with blue marker still all over my hands but wiped off my face.  I was the first one to muscle pump and couldn't help but enjoy the sunshine streaming in.  Class was taught by the one and only Sara.  She is a hiney kicker but I love her smiling face so it makes it okay.  We work together too and we have matching sores right now.  Too many sit-ups will cause a sore at the exact hiney area I was referring to earlier.  In case you wanted to know. 

 

These are It

Sometimes when I'm sitting on a tiny chair with my one cowboy boot crossed over the other cowboy boot looking out at twenty give or take faces all looking back at me while we discuss what makes writing writing, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. 

 

Sometimes when I'm sitting across from a business owner and we are discovering their direct mail marketing needs and our wheels are turning and the ideas are spinning and the sale is made, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.  

 

Sometimes when my camera is in front of my eye and the leaves are golden and twinkly in the fall sun with a family romping around while I say silly things and do silly things to get the moment, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.  

 

 

Sometimes while I sit in my blue paisley with hints of coral office chair pecking on my keys and letting the thoughts go from my head down through my fingers to write it out, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.  

 

 

Sometimes during the crocheting of a cowl or the crafting to create a rainbow yarn garland or the creating of a piece of wall art or the cooking of a made from completely scratch meal or the party theme planning with every detail aligning, I feel it.  Feel like yes this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. 

 
And then because there are so many yes this is its happening, it becomes one hefty balancing act.  And then in the real crazy times where the balance becomes more like an all helter skelter imbalance, I want to desperately give something up.  To change from yes to no.  To do only one thing or maybe even two things.  I lean towards throwing things right off my plate, not just throwing but more like catapulting.  

But then inevitably the flow comes to offset that ebb.  To do list items get crossed off and tasks are finished and events come to a winding end and then I'm so dang happy and full that I think to myself, I can't take one of these things away.  

If I take one of my yes this is its away, then I'm not living with and in the gifts which have been given to me. 

 

I'll keep teaching with my cowboy boots on and my hands flying all around.  I'll keep working with businesses to market their passions.  I'll keep capturing moments for other people because they end up capturing parts of my being as well.  I'll keep making and doing and planning the pretty I want to see in the world around me.
 

The key is balance and priorities.  Knowing when I have to simply say, "No not right now."  And knowing when to say, "Hell yes right now." 
 

Lunch Breaks and Dance Parties and Soap Boxes

As I'm sitting here, I can hear the crickets (or frogs or whatever those noisy beings in the night are) doing their chippy cheep scareep and it feels like something has been awakened.  Maybe it's the sun finally warming my bones or maybe it's the promise of the slim slide to freedom in my days or maybe it's the ushering in of green grass, maybe it's any number of those factors making the days sweeter and the evenings like confetti wrapped gifts.  Or maybe it's just this very season of life I'm in.  

What I do know for sure, without a thread of doubt, is today was a good day.  One of those good ones which will be pulled from later to remind me of what it feels like to be happy.  Because I believe we need those reservoirs of good ones to sustain us through the inevitable ebb and flow of the tough which mixes in.

There was a curriculum training for work today; Karen and I were to attend both the morning and the afternoon sessions, which gave us this strange thing in the middle of our day called a lunch break.  I knew the idea of going out to eat wasn't nearly as thrilling as the possibility of sitting in the sun eating wholesome eats.  So I called Karen last night and told her, "I'm chopping us salad fixins' as we speak.  We are eating here tomorrow, on my patio."  She jumped right at it, "Do you have balsamic?"  

Yes.  I have that.  

Today mid-day, we kicked of our shoes, settled in the sun, and enjoyed our salads followed by dessert, strawberries with balsamic and walnuts.  If only I would have had some real whipping cream to dollop on top.  

Today mid-day, we let the breeze blow ever so slightly on our faces and we enjoyed a break.  A real honest to goodness break.  

After my work day was done, I met Danae and her two girls at Emma's dance lesson.  What started as a quick snap after class quickly turned into a dance party between sisters.  

With breathtaking moments of love and beauty stitched in with every twirl and hop.

  

I have said before and I still will say, the most precious of pictures are not the ones with perfectly planned outfits and hair all done up.  No.  The most precious of pictures are ones which catch a moment.  A hug between sisters with noses crinkled.  

Emma and Autumn were gracious enough to let me join in their dance party.  Love a duck, I believe in dance parties with giggling littles.  Be still my heart.   

Okay, we're done now.  Let's go eat.  Wait, one more jump.  

Okay, really we're done now.  Let's go eat.  Wait, one more dosey doe.  

 

Heart happy. 

Danae, thank you for letting me dance with your girls on the sidewalk on a Wednesday early evening in May.  Thank you for sharing them with me.  

We did finally go eat.  After hearing on the phone earlier where the vote for where to go to dinner was, I ran home quick and popped some kernels for Danae and I to enjoy while the girls ate the real deal in the green and white checked baskets.  I believe in carrying my own bag of popcorn into a restaurant.    

After a soul fueling and filling visit with Danae, I came home to finish up work for tomorrow.  Although, it's hard for it to feel like work when you are sitting outside and it's something you feel a strong passion for. 

Really, it's a stand on my soap box style of passion.  Authentic and modeled writing with kids.  I did my thesis on the topic a few years ago and am now looking into the nonfiction side of it...with fist pumping and donkey kicking of course.

A very good day indeed. 

And now here I sit, with the crickets (or frogs or whatever those noisy beings in the night are) doing their chippy cheep scareep and it feels like something has been awakened.  Maybe it's the promise of the slim slide to freedom in my days or maybe it's the ushering in of green grass...

Or maybe it's this very season of life I'm in. 

Do you like Pina Colada?  In the setting sun...

THIS Week

It's late Wednesday night, nearing early Thursday morning, and so far this week...

My parents sat at my dining room table and we had a Sunday evening meal together.  I said to Billy when they left, "Do you know there was a time in my life where I only dreamed I'd be to where I could do that."  He looked at me and replied, "Ummmm, do what?"  I looked back, "Throw together a real meal without going to the store and be able to say why don't you just stay for supper and have my people around my table and well, you know...that."  A smile and a nod is what I got back.  We had chili and warm from the oven cornbread and deviled eggs and a Sunday meal happened.  The stuff of dreams I tell you.  Billy made the chile so really I just made cornbread and the eggs and I laughed when my dad said, "The last of the Easter eggs?"  

The last literacy event as the president of this region's reading council happened on Monday evening.  A "Get in the Game" book swap for all ages with one of our district's elementary school's choir singing as entertainment and a silent auction and the college hockey team signing autographs and college athletes volunteering at the game stations and kids excited about books.  Kids excited about reading.  Success.  While I was looking around the room at all of the amazing teacher volunteers and co-chairs and co-planners, I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of something.  Not sure if it was relief, but it was something.  It's been a full year.  Now I just attend our NDRA state conference and then the International Reading Conference to accept the Merit and Honor Council awards and enjoy learning more along with the people who were by my side helping all year.  Again, a sigh of something.  

After the event, I stopped by Brittany's to visit.  It had been too long and my cup of Britt was filled with pre-bedtime visits with her and nightgown wearing girls.  I need that filling from time to time because it's not often you have a friend who thinks like you and makes decisions like you. 

Last night I had a hair appointment and then we went for a glass of wine and the cheese plate at 10 N. Main.  The cheese plate, yes it was my meal.  Why would there be a need to order other food when that is on the menu?  To say it was a heart happy evening is the understatement of the year.  These next couple weeks feel like a combination between crazy push of last minute busy with celebratory moments of bliss.  Not a shabby combo, not at all. 

Today, I smell like garlic.  Like so much.  From that cheese plate I straight up devoured last night.  I feel bad for the people who were around my treadmill this morning.  When I turned my head, even I could smell it permeating off as I ran and don't even get me started about having a job which requires you to talk to people all day long.  The mints from the office were my best friend and I explained to my sixth graders why I was chomping on mints and not sharing because I believe in explaining to kids.  They nodded their heads right along with me because well, you know, they could tell.  But then it was green peppers for the kids' snack today here too and so what happened was, the kids all smelled like green peppers and it made me feel better about smelling like garlic.  

After school, I went to Danae's to catch up with her and her littles.  She was making homemade chocolate chip cookies and pulling them from the oven as I sat with a hot cup of coffee and my will power.  I love her just like a sister.  Just like one.  Because we can talk about anything and everything while she bakes cookies for her husband's lunch and I sit with my legs crossed with a polka dot mug in my hands.    

After Danae's, I went to the farm to pick up the handmade quilt my mom made to donate for the state reading conference silent auction.  Because you know, I texted her last week with a, "Do you think you could make a quilt for me by...next Thursday."  And that mom of mine did.  She texted me today with a, "Do you want me to send the quilt with Summer to save you some miles tonight?"  I texted her back with a, "No.  I'll come get it."  Because really I just wanted to look at it with her and give her a squeeze hug and see her face.  To let her know I'm eternally grateful for her, not just that she makes me quilts in less than a week but for who she is all the way around.  Grateful.  

After the farm, I went to Sil and Brother's to smush the crew.  Except by the time I made it there, Punky was the only one still left awake.  She told me quite the stories with her footie jammers on and her blanket slung over her shoulder.  Sil and I had a few quiet moments to visit and that's a rarity so maybe it was all meant to be. 

When I got home awhile ago, I packed up some cheese, fruit, almonds, puffed rice cereal, cinnamon, and peanut butter because peanut butter is a must.  I then texted Karen a picture of it all, along with the pretty plates and silverware, "I have a feeling the food at this thing will be not our thing so I packed us up some goodies."  Then I told her to make sure she packs enough cute clothes and jewelry so we can swap and share because that's just what we do.

Now I'm sitting here eating air popped popcorn with raisins because it helps with my trail mix obsession and I'm going over the chapter for tomorrow morning's book study at the administration building.  This is a quote from the first page of chapter seven of Small Steps, Big Changes by Confer & Ramirez.  Chapter seven is mine to lead by the way, a coincidence? 

• "However, ineffective patterns of instruction can easily be the norm.  We continue those patterns until, usually by chance, another teacher or a coach or a principal-or even a student-draws our attention to them.  At that moment, we have received a gift.  We are awakened to a choice.  We can choose to confront our own patterns-or not.  Once we make a choice to question our patterns, we are in the realm of possibility."  

And then it continues on to discuss how we all have patterns for everything, like the way we pour our coffee in the morning.  And then this girl said an AMEN because I get that.  I just call them traditions is all.  I read the words from "At that moment, we have received a gift" on about six times.  Beautiful words for a beautiful belief which is applicable to all arenas of life.    

It's late Wednesday night, nearing early Thursday morning, and that's been this week so far.   

Next up on the agenda before it really is morning is to pack clothes for the first of the trips.  Packing clothes and I do not get along.  Fruit and nuts, now that I can handle.    

Maybe I should tell you a story instead.  A story about what the one sixth grade boy said to me today...

I'm procrastinating.  

Or maybe I should tell you about how I forgot how delicious warm cornbread with honey is...

I'm procrastinating.  

Or maybe I should tell you about how I constantly am assessing whether I'm doing the right thing with life...

Alright closet, I'm coming for you now.  Right after I finish this popcorn and raisins and chapter seven that is.  

   
Here's the less than a week from start to completion quilt by Momma Debi folded up and ready to go in all its chevron prettiness.  Thank you to my mom for once again being up for anything and there for everything.