What's happening along the edges?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life with Two Writing Teachers.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

I spent this past weekend on the most amazing silent retreat. The retreat is nestled in a forest conservation area, surrounded by beautiful meadows with simple mowed paths for contemplative walking. I did a lot of walking, a lot of noticing, and a lot of writing. Entering the retreat, I was aware of the many transitions in my life right now - we are newly empty nesters, my husband is retired, and we will become grandparents in late October. Plus, of course, a new, fast-paced, and full school year is underway, with many new preschoolers and their own powerful transitions. I had a lot on my mind. Rev. Sarah Anders, our retreat leader,  challenged us to put our own lives and worries on hold throughout the weekend, and, instead, focus on being present in our walks, in our silence. We were invited to stop and notice the nature around us. We were invited to pay particular attention to the edges - what's happening along the edges? Such a magical pursuit! I threw myself into it...

...and it was extraordinary!

I walked slowly, noticing. There was a very inconsequential rain throughout, with sun streaming as well - a 'last vestiges of summer' kind of rain. My protective hat was just enough to keep the rain away from my face, and that's all I needed to ensure my continued walking. The meadow was filled with gorgeous yellow yarrow, milkweed, and purple thistle. There were so many insects busy at work...there are, in fact, I soon realized, an amazing number of lives in a meadow...butterflies, dragonflies, crickets, bees, hornets, spiders, beetles, flies, ladybugs, on and on, innumerable small and new, anonymous species. Within each of these categories of insects, there was tremendous variety...I saw so many different types of butterflies, for example. Are there a zillion types of dragonflies? Thin-bodied, thick bodied, blue, black, small, medium, large, and more?

As I walked, I seemed to stir up the insects...my footsteps instigated immediate, quick, and yet nearly invisible movement - as if we were playing hide and seek. As I wandered, all sorts of insects would jump from the mowed path that I was walking on, into the recesses of the tall grasses and plants in the meadow. How to describe the movement of all these small beings, all at once, as if on cue, with every step I took, within five feet of my own steps, always in the direction I was walking? If I stopped and went completely still - well, they would go still as well, nothing moving, quiet all around. But if I stepped again - voila! Immediately, the grass started jumping, coming alive, shimmering and flickering, almost like a light show with teeny tiny lights. Surreal. 

It felt like a celebration.

Why all this movement? Did the insects hear me? Did they feel the shaking of the ground? Or did they see me moving their way? Was I disturbing them? Or were they delighted to see me? Were we playing a game of following the leader? Who was leading whom? 

Here I am, back to my normal life, for just two days now - and I have remembered to "stop and notice" throughout the day. At school, I've started a fun little personal challenge, thanks to this retreat - what's happening along the edges in my classroom? Who's on the sidelines and what kind of merrymaking are they up to? The possibilities are endless.

How to put the puzzle pieces together?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life with Two Writing Teachers.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Have you ever watched a group of preschoolers create a floor puzzle together? Everything that children need to learn about sharing can be learned through this one activity. Simply place the puzzle box on the floor and invite children to join you - and, wow, watch the fun unfold!

The play begins wildly, boldly, instantly, and selfishly, with each child automatically grabbing one or two pieces and trying to shove their own pieces together. Three year olds are used to playing with things by themselves and for themselves. They are not accustomed to working with others. The first few moments of puzzle-making are fast-paced motion...the grabbing of a piece or two, trying to connect the pieces, dropping puzzle pieces in frustration, and moving onto another piece immediately to see if it matches. Many hands moving quickly, mashing pieces together on the floor, stepping onto pieces or bumping into a classmate, whirling, spinning, commotion.

Most preschoolers seem to readily grasp that the pieces fit together in some way; I have never had to explain this. There are typically about 20 pieces, meaning a small group of preschoolers can grab one or two pieces each, and each feel very powerful. Of course, in reality, there's not much exciting about one or two pieces of a puzzle. There's not much to see or make, with so few.

Often, one child will walk off to the periphery of all the commotion, clutching a piece, not seeking out any other pieces, and, seemingly, feeling no need to participate in the puzzle building. This savvy child! They may look disinterested, but they have claimed some very valuable real estate. Yes, they are holding what will be the LAST piece of the puzzle...ha! This piece is being ignored right now, but, without a doubt, it will become very important very soon.

As teacher, I try simply to moderate the overall process. I try not to direct the children to follow 'my approach.' For example, I don't say - "Hey, let's grab all the straight edges first." - which was definitely the way I was taught, many years ago. I enjoy watching preschoolers find their own way, to figure it out...I trust that they will. I sit back a bit, and use my voice mostly to guide - helping them work together.

Sometimes the puzzle piece that you simply must have is in another child's hands, and, here, it's often easiest to just grab the piece out of the other's hands. Teachable moment! I pepper them with questions - "Who had that piece first?," "Did you ask her if you could have that?" "Where do you think it goes?" "What makes you think so?" "How do those two match up?" Many instinctively know to turn the piece around and around and around, exploring new positions, to see if the pieces will connect.

As the children work, I begin to build some ground rules with them - "If two pieces are connected, you leave them be and try to match your piece to the connected ones. Don't take apart what is already working." Somehow, this often seems to surprise preschoolers - as if, "Wait, I didn't match those pieces! But, you expect me to leave them be?" Another important rule, "We don't take pieces out of our classmates' hands." Also, "Puzzle makers move slowly and purposefully, they don't stand on the puzzles."

I am frequently amazed at the ferocity and motion involved in making a puzzle together. Around and around and around they go, testing this piece against the other.

Always,
after a short while,
seemingly arising out of thin air,
certainly,
bubbling up without any plan of action other than 'every child for herself',
the puzzle begins to form,
with interconnected sections becoming more apparent.

I often wonder if this is the very moment that young children become aware of the power of team work..the very moment they become aware that, wow, perhaps each person has something to offer to the process...the very moment each child begins to literally see how what they are doing connects with that of others.

Although the puzzle begins with every child feeling and working solo, in the end, it is completed by the work of many...it takes a team.

The learning from such a simple 'toy' is truly profound. Children learn to be more observant of one another and of the puzzle, noticing details on each individual piece. They begin to interact with one another, communicating - "Does this go here?" "Put yours there." "Here!" "Look! These go here!"

And that child who might have wandered off with that one piece? Oh, yes, we need her now! You can't finish without a floor puzzle without including everyone.

Floor puzzles have two distinct phases for preschoolers -
the first, egotistical, self-absorbed, every child for him or herself; and
the second, enlightenment, the mind opens, the realization comes - we do better when we work together.

There's always a big round of applause at the conclusion of a puzzle! Go, preschoolers!

Are you able to bear the responsibility?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life with Two Writing Teachers.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Second day of school. Early dismissal for preschoolers. 12 noon. Three of them wait to be picked up. Tick-tock, tick-tock. 12:10. One child helps to sweep the floor, one child dances on carpet, one colors at a table. These three watched every other child get picked up. Oh, here is a family! Down to two children. Three teachers, two preschoolers. 12:15  I lean down to tie the dancing preschooler's shoes; no sign of his parents yet. Oh, here's another family! This Mom has questions, I turn to answer her -  "yes, we need napping materials for tomorrow's full day..." and, quietly, invisibly, unexpectedly, he slips out. Elopes. Right by me, standing three feet from the door of our classroom. He, my dancer, the last child, waiting, desperately, for a Mommy or Daddy or another loving adult who never comes. He is impatient, he is three. He has just watched every classmate get picked up. 

In a split second, he was gone. 

Just a minute more, maybe only 30 seconds later, I knew he was gone, too - and I bolted from my classroom, down the hall, towards the front desk - only to be met by Mom and Grandmother, holding him firmly by the hand. Mom was livid - "I did NOT find him right here in the hall! I found him out front, coming out the front door of the school!" 

Her angry eyes will stick in my memory forever - devoid of trust, filled with hurt and anger.

I rambled,

"I am SO sorry. I am SO sorry. I need you to know, this is on ME, I am responsible. He was just here, and he slipped out, and that SHOULD NEVER EVER EVER have happened and I am totally at fault. I am so sorry. I have never had this happen in all my years of teaching and it won't happen again, I promise."

She was LIVID.

Words are nothing but nasty air when one's most important possession has almost vanished.

I continued,

"Please, this is horrible. I invite you to speak to our principal about this. It is a terrible mistake and you should report it. I can assure you it won't happen again. I'm sorry."

I moved automatically to find my principal, and I breathlessly told her, "Please speak with this family, they are so upset, as they should be - their preschooler in my class slipped out the front door of the school at early dismissal."

My principal asked with remarkable calm, "Did we find the child?"

"Yes! His family was walking right up to the school when he was walking out - they grabbed him and brought him back to me."

My principal continued to me, before talking to the family - "This is a blessing. Hear me, it's a blessing. He was found. He is safe. Now we know. We revise our plan. We continue on." 

As she walked toward the family to talk further, I dissolved into tears. 

It is hard to bear the responsibility.

***

Epilogue -

Even now, a whole year later, it is hard to think about this day.

My principal and colleagues gave me tremendous support and perspective, and I am so appreciative. We revised our 'end of day' routines, and there was never another such incident all year. I worked hard to rebuild trust with the family; I am very close to this family, now.

Truly, on this day, my biggest fear about working with young children happened: losing a child...that one might simply disappear, no matter how hard I try to keep my eyes on them. Whenever I hear one of those nightmare stories about a child who walks away from school, I think "but for the grace of God" - and I am filled with compassion for everyone involved. It takes a village!!

Tuesday SOL: What can you do with a cloth?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

What can you do with a cloth?

Well, what do you imagine?

If you are a preschooler, there's no end to the possibilities.

Why not make a fort?

Or a gown?

How about a cape for a superhero?

Let's be robbers and bad guys.

No, how about Mommy?

The baby needs to be swaddled in a blanket.

The baby needs a crib!

I'm making a bear cave.

It's a lake!

There are dolphins in the water.

All the animals live in this part of the zoo.

We could pretend they are rocks on a mountain, and go for a hike.

You might slip and fall!

It could be ice.

It's my sled.

A bed for me.

A hospital bed, because I am sick.

We can all have ballet clothes!

Remember, at Halloween, there was a ghost?

If you sit in the barber's chair, you need one of these.

I'm going to be a firefighter.

No, a policeman!

It could be like walls of a house.

Or the floor.

It might be the window, maybe the curtains.

Or the door.

You have to come in this way.

It is a very soft place.

A few years ago, a family gifted me a large bag filled to the brim with cloths...a big bin of fabric, each piece measuring approximately 1 yard square. Honestly, there are probably three dozen pieces of fabric...I've never counted them, and I suppose I should, one day! I think these cloths might be my favorite element in my preschool classroom. They bring endless fun!

Tuesday SOL: Can you help me?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

"I am here with you."

A short happy piece about preschoolers' social growth at this time of year...

We were working with cardboard recyclables, trying to create a device that was powerful enough to move a huge boulder, just like Abiyoyo in the book Abiyoyo Returns. Jamel is mesmerized by tape and could not cut enough...actually, he simply could not cut. But, try again and again he did. He is entangled with bright green tape, he cannot separate his scissors from the ever-spiraling, confused tangle. Exasperated he calls out to no one in particular and everyone at once, "Can you help me?" - up jumps Tiffany, "I can! I can! Let me help you!" And she does! She moves quickly to his side, and works his scissors out of the sticky trap. But she's not done yet. "Here, let me show you how." She stretches out a new length of the tape, takes her scissors and cuts it for him. "Now, you try it." He says, "Oh, I see. Okay." They work alongside each other, learning to cut. 

"Let me show you."

Am I even needed?

We are mid-year and I am surrounded by helpfulness. Children's friendships have grown, their understanding of the school routine is absolute, and there is a burgeoning clarity about their own strengths. They know that they can do. It is a beautiful thing.

I see it when they are lining up to go somewhere new...that one child who is always a little bit tentative, afraid, uncertain about going...immediately, a supportive hand is stretched out -"I'll go with you."

I see it when we are at Morning Gathering and a more shy student doesn't budge from her seat when the dance tune is sung for her...right away, two, if not three, children will jump up at once and beckon her, "Come on! I will dance with you."

I see it when one gets an unexpected boo-boo and another runs over to her side, taking her hand, and says, "Here, let's show Ms. Ingram."

Everyone has helpful hands. 

"Let's show Ms. Ingram."

Tuesday SOL: How's it going, two days in?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Black Lives Matter Week of Action is underway! Just completed day two...I want to share a few extraordinary, beautiful moments...of which there are many. Let me begin with the "piece de resistance," our whole school banner - 

We worked on this fabulous banner throughout the school. Each floor of our school had one word, painted large on a 6 foot by 30inch piece of black banner paper - and each floor was expected to interact with their one word in developmentally appropriate ways. Everyone had special silver and gold Sharpie markers! The early childhood classrooms (PreK-3 through Kindergarten) worked on the word "Black," and we invited families to to work with their child at morning drop-off or evening pickup; some signed their names, others drew handprints, and some adults left special messages. Our questions were simple - What is Black? What is special about Black? What do we love about Black? Upstairs, on our elementary floor, students in grades 1-4 worked on the word "Lives," thinking about What do we need to live? What makes us feel alive? What is most important to life? Finally, on the third floor, our middle schoolers (5th grade through 8th) reflected on the word "Matter," and wrote messages in response to such questions as What matters to me? How will I matter? How do my actions matter? How do I make change that matters?

This afternoon, my colleague Monisha and I hung the three words together in our Commons, for everyone to see - creating the large vertical message Black Lives Matter.

It is breathtaking. I am so proud of our school!

Also hanging in our Commons are the 13 principles of the Black Lives Matter movement. Over the past several weeks, our middle schoolers prepared beautiful posters focusing on each of these. I am in awe of these students! They are our future.

Of course, preschoolers are not being immersed in these 13 principles...
my classroom has been both ordinary and wonderful these past two days.
As I said, we must be developmentally appropriate.
What have the preschoolers been up to?
Well, yesterday we created skin color handprints of our class community –
using multicultural paints, we worked with children to add their handprints
to a large circle of handprints. We asked, “Which color do you think most closely
matches your skin?” and preschoolers chose the paint that (s)he felt most closely
matched her/his skin, without correction by the teacher.

Skin color discussions are often fraught with tension for adults, something we would
never dare to speak about. Preschoolers are a refreshing change from this, so literal
and clear in their observations, noticing the variations and finding them to be simply
that, variations, nothing more – here are the children’s words:

I’m brown

I’m pink

I’m pinkish

I’m really light beige

I am red

I’m peach

I am brown

I’m tawny

I am silver

I am pink

I’m really light pink

I’m really light brown

It’s just peach

I’m pink, but I want purple

I’m a yellow pink

I am brown.

We've read two special books. Our first was Each Kindness by Jacquelyn Woodson, a story about a new girl coming to school and trying to make friends. This is a very long book for preschoolers and therefore, we began with a quick dramatization of the plot. Drama helps preschoolers get “into” a book, to feel it with their bodies. We had a lot of fun with this! As we acted out the plot, and reflected throughout –

What do we think new student is feeling?

What is her face telling us?
Think of things to say to a classmate when their face looks like that.

Have you ever been to a new school?

Have you ever been somewhere where kids were playing and you were not?

What did it feel like?

Is there anything the new student should say or do?

What are some kind and welcoming things we can say or do?

Then, we read the story…and it turns out, the children in the book were not
nearly as kind as our Big Cats. Jacqueline Woodson writes, “Each kindness makes
the world a better place.” She shared the metaphor of dropping a stone into water
and seeing the ripples it makes - each time you are kind, it sends ripples out
into the world.

Of course, then we had to get out a bowl of water and have the children
drop in pebbles, one by one…I asked the children, What is something kind
you have done, that ripples into the world?:

I play with my brother.

I share with somebody.

The kindness that I share.

I like the new friend.

Kind is being kind.

Play with friends.

Say hello to people when you go to school.

If you share, that’s nice.

Sharing is caring.

You can ask nicely.

I shared my toys with others.

I play with my brother a lot.

Mommy, she kiss me.

I love to hug with my Mommy and Daddy.

Share something with somebody.


The world is in good hands with these sweet preschoolers!

Today's special book was Beautiful Blackbird by Ashley Bryan.

Black is beautiful mural in process

This book led to a "black is beautiful" mural...the preschoolers love a process art project, especially one that involves glue! We have a white banner paper mural that students have painted with watercolors and oil pastels. Today, we began to cover it with all sorts of beautiful black materials, using glue – black construction paper, felt, sequins, pipe cleaners, tissue paper, fabric, pom poms...yes, a zillion different materials and textures for the children to explore. They are loving this!

Only two days in, we are off to an amazing start on our Black Lives Matter Week of Action.

Tuesday SOL: What if we talk about race?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

What happens when teachers talk about race with one another?

courage
respect
dialogue
grief
honesty
empathy
fear
tension and uncertainty
questions
a feeling of being ill-equipped
listening
patience
time and space
messiness
stamina
gentleness
love

An outpouring of so many feelings,
all at once.

Finding yourself in a mixed-up intersection of
what you know,
what you think you know,
what your gut says,
what you are ignorant about,
what your family taught you,
what you want to believe,
what you are surprised by,
what you need to learn,
what you hope for,
what you imagine.

Talking about race with my colleagues reminds me of the children's song "Going on a Bear Hunt" -

You can't go over it
You can't go under it
You can't go around it
Oh no
You have to go through it.

Looks like we have to go through it.

Tuesday SOL: Why does it have to be like this?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

We're entering into the tough part of the school year, that time period in the very middle of the year, when so much fatigue has set in. There is so much to do and there simply isn't enough time to get all that needs doing done. I call out a "good morning" to colleagues first thing every day, but we are quick and perfunctory with one another; there is little opportunity to collaborate or share because everyone is so busy with their own never-ending list of must do's.

We had professional development this past week, and I wanted desperately to be working in my own classroom, getting work done. I work alongside a novice teacher, and as she begins to lead more, taking over more of the daily responsibilities, my need for time to meet, plan, review, discuss, and reflect grows exponentially. A short while into the workshop, I had that uncomfortable sensation of not being fully present; I was in two places at once. I challenged myself to listen. I am, typically, a "good student" - usually very much on-task.

Would you believe me if I told you that the speaker was engaging?

As a general rule, I love workshops, I love learning new approaches, hearing about the latest research. However, this just wasn't something I personally would have signed up to do with my time right then, because I am struggling to complete so many other things...I have other priorities. These priorities don't go away or even lessen as a result of this professional development.

I decided to step back and observe a bit, to give the situation a writer's eye. I looked around the room at my colleagues and took notes on what I saw:

- One, furtively scanning her phone, with a furrowed brow, looking tense, worried, or tired, or perhaps all three...

- Another, totally checked out...what I must have looked like just a moment before...eyes glazed, face tilted down, a mile away in his thoughts.

- Two colleagues were whispering together, very, very quietly...probably not about the lecture, right?

- Still another, typing madly on her computer, in the midst of the lecture, clearly not engaging with the material of the professional development, but in all probability getting something done on her to-do list.
- Several colleagues that I had seen earlier in the day were not even in the room...early departure? Doctor's appointments? 

- There's another colleague, feet drumming on the floor, fingers tapping on the table, is she listening to music? I can't see any evidence of earphones...maybe it's one of those wireless sets...hmmm.

Why does professional development have to be like this?
What is it about these sessions that makes them feel so tone deaf much of the time? 

How can so many of us be this detached from the lecture? 

If this were a classroom, wouldn't the teacher realize that the students were off-task and something is not working right?
Why are we learning about this right now?

There is always so much put on teachers, and increasingly little wiggle room or flexibility to think for oneself.

Tuesday SOL: Why should I care about Black Lives Matter?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

I've been busy working on something very exciting and thought I should share it here, in this space, and - just maybe - I'll excite another teacher to join the fun. The week of February 5-9, 2018, I am participating in the Black Lives Matter Week of Action: 

The goal of the Black Lives Matter Week of Action in Schools is to spark an ongoing movement of critical reflection and honest conversations in school communities for people of all ages to engage with critical issues of social justice. It is our duty as educators and community members to civically engage students and build their empathy, collaboration, and agency so they are able to thrive. Students must learn to examine, address, and grapple with issues of racism and discrimination that persist in their lives and communities.

Why should I, a white teacher, participate in and celebrate Black Lives Matter in my preschool classroom? It's very simple, really:

I want to give preschoolers a foundation of love and respect for all.

I want them to learn to listen and wonder about other perspectives.

I want them to believe in their personal power and purpose. 

I want my preschoolers to imagine a world without the distortion of systemic racism.

I want to do right by my students of color.

I believe in social justice.

I believe in teaching empathy.
I believe each of us is fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14) - yes, each and every child, without exception.

I believe I can make positive change in our world. 

I care. 

I must act.
I am a teacher.


Our nation is so troubled. It feels to me like people of color are under attack. Can my students of color anticipate a life of true equality? A world where they will be treated fairly? I have to start somewhere. Black Lives Matter feels like an important step to take.

I have been hard at work on lesson plans for the week, ways to integrate anti-bias, empathy, and perspective-taking in my preschool classroom. Honestly, I already think a lot about this in my work with young children. It is not a huge paradigm shift for me. I'm focusing on read-alouds that celebrate Black families, Black communities, Black culture, Black excellence, and Black authors - thankfully these are really easy to find. I will surround us with Black music. We will explore the color Black in our art. We will talk about how to help one another feel welcome, how to show kindness, what is fairness.These are simple, ordinary, intentional steps in any preschool classroom and I believe they will also bear witness to Black Lives Matter.

I've said this before: childhood lays the blueprint for the rest of our lives...it creates our 'norm', what is ordinary for us. What if anti-bias was the norm? What if equity was ubiquitous? What if skin color was irrelevant? 

I can dream. I can act. I can start.

I am excited.

Tuesday SOL: What's the plan today?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Last Wednesday was my first day back at school after our winter break. My sleep, the night before, was broken - as expected. I always have 'jitters' before returning to school after long breaks, feeling excited, unsettled, unknowing. Although it no longer surprises me, I continue to wonder why it happens. I mean, I know these children, my teaching team, the building, the day...why so unsettled? Ah, well.

We had a great first day back, everyone excited to be back together...and woke up to a snow day on our supposed second day back! What?! This was a gift of a day, not unlike being presented with delicious chocolates after having just devoured a homemade brownie. It's wonderful, delightful, amazing - and yet, seriously, did we really need it? (Of course, snow days aren't given to those who need a day off, but to areas that are having winter weather.)

So then we had school on Friday, which ended up feeling like a second "first day back." Somehow, Friday felt even more festive and exciting than Wednesday...everyone was in great moods and the day flew by. Then it was the weekend! Wouldn't this be a fun pattern for teaching - one day on, next day off? 

This week has started off in a similarly wonky pattern, with school being dismissed promptly at end of day yesterday, with no after school activities or even our regular Monday staff meeting, due to wintry weather. I furtively searched for a two hour delay this morning...but not to be. I slogged into work, after working on my car for fifteen minutes as I scraped ice off the windshield. Everyone on the road was driving so very slowly, wary of black ice, (in retrospect, this was a good thing) and I arrived just in time to make my breakfast duty. The rest of the day was fast-paced and full, taking me in so many different directions...perhaps I'll share more another day.

Up, down, back, forth, yes, no, on, off, hurry, wait, stop, go, do, don't, this is the start of 2018.