Tuesday SOL Up above the clouds

This is a Tuesday Slice of Life for Two Writing Teachers. 

Check out their website for many more reflections on teaching.


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The misting rain was accompanied by a thick fog. I sat on the right-hand side of the airplane, in a futile attempt to get a glimpse of the beach town where my cousins and I had played so many times when I was younger. As we ascended into the air from the runway, I was able to just barely discern the outline of a large tanker on the water, but then I couldn't see a thing other than pure grey fuzz. It continued this way for about ten minutes, grey all around. Nothing to see. Then, surprisingly, we burst into bright sunshine - we were at cruising altitude, up high above the clouds and fog. I looked down at a floor of mashed potato clouds, thinking they looked thick enough for someone to walk on. I saw no footprints, but became lost in thought thinking about Peter traipsing through the snow in The Snowy Day, finding a stick, and making a new path with it. Looking down on these thick, whipped clouds, I noticed that they thinned in the distance, like a foamy seashore, disintegrating, with all sorts of unexpected and haphazard curves, seeming to spill onto a gorgeous blue counter...deep blue sky meeting the edges of bright white clouds. Truly, gorgeous. I could not make out the land far below, though I believe it was still rainy and foggy down there.

I love cruising altitude. It reminds you that things aren't always as they seem in the immediate. It reminds you to try to fit the sour or imperfect into the big picture - to challenge yourself to see it from a new perspective. 

The preschoolers have their first day of school tomorrow. Here's my hope for the year:

May I pause at the misty, foggy moments and remember that cruising altitude awaits.