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.

What does it mean?

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.

Loved seeing this bird on a recent walk!

I love a nice long walk, whether in the woods, through the neighborhood, in the city, by the shore...it doesn't matter where, I simply love to walk. I walk and I notice. I look for 'signs' - signs of what? Well, I don't know! Signs of the unexpected, signs of surprise, signs of wonder.  

We have had a lot of rain this summer, here in the Mid-Atlantic. We have had powerful storms, light drizzles, long days of rain, brief squalls...it has come in all shapes and sizes. We've broken records for rainfall. After a rainstorm, I love to wander down to my local walking path and explore what's new, what has changed. This walking path is alongside a creek. A couple of the rains have been so mild with no thunder or lightning that I have been able to throw on my raincoat and take a walk in the park during the storm. Walking in the rain is a delight all its own. Several times this summer, the storms have closed the park (thankfully, only for a matter of hours at most), as the water from the creek rushed up over the banks and threatened the road...I avoid the walking path at these times, and wait for the park to re-open. 

In recent weeks, due to all the rain, the creek runs fast and brown, with the soil from the bottom swirling about. There is sand and sediment on the walking path, and debris woven into the fences of the foot bridges, the trees and shrubs along the bank. It's not unusual to see plastic bags and other trash hanging from the branches of trees, as if reaching back to the creek. The shrubs along the bank are also flattened, pressed down at an earlier time by over-flowing water. Many trees have toppled...each rainstorm brings down a few more, lifted up out of the ground by over-saturated roots. I notice that there are often very few if any birds or other wildlife immediately following a storm - it's as if the area is briefly abandoned.

I am fascinated by one tree that - rather than coming up by its roots - cracked open about six feet from its base and toppled onto the ground with its two enormous forked branches falling on either side of a recently-installed park bench. Smaller branches and twigs are strewn every which way. The park bench sits in the midst of this destruction, intact and happy:

Why did the tree break like this? The trunk did not appear ravaged by decay or termites or anything. I didn't see a line of similar damage, no other trees in the vicinity broken in the same way  - which I know would have indicated a wind storm. Hmm. Mystery. 

What does it mean? Here's my thought on this last day of summer - may I be like that park bench, strong, resilient, in the midst of whatever wild storms await me this school year. When those heavy demands rain down on me - may I remember to breathe in, breathe out, resilient. 

Goodbye, summer. Here's to the new school year!

SOLSC #6 How fast should I walk?

I am participating in the
March 2018 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOLSC).
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for thirty-one days.

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

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Most days, my dear husband drops me off at the metro in the early morning before school; he's retired, with a very flexible schedule - and a very kind heart. But, on occasion, I also enjoy walking to the metro from the house; it is great exercise and never fails to energize me for the day. This morning was a "walk to the metro" day. The walk to the metro from my house is about 2 miles ... and takes me 35-40 minutes, depending on my pace and the pace of my thoughts. I find that I begin the walk more urgently, more decisively, and somewhere mid-walk, I am lost in thoughts and have to break out of them, reminding myself to pick up the pace. Today, as I walked, I was aware how my thoughts burst out like popcorn, scattered all over the place, some about work, some about my weekend with my folks (which I just got home from), some about weather, some about...well, who knows anymore? I got on the metro and wrote down reflections from the walk, in hopes of creating a slice on this busy Tuesday...and I think it's a bit of a poem! Here goes:

Walk to the metro,

Walk, walk, walk,

How my thoughts flow,

Walk, walk, walk

How to keep them from flying away,

This talk, talk, talk

Don't I need to remember,

as I walk, walk, walk?

Am I dressed warm enough,

Walk faster, walk faster,

Isn't it true you're 20 degrees warmer

when you run, run, run?

Am I going to be on time?

Did I leave a bit late?

Walk faster, walk faster,

For goodness' sake.

Will I ever be lighter?

Thus the walk, walk, walk

Pick up the pace,

Don't balk, balk, balk

Dear Mom and Dad,

Such a bittersweet sight

Age 88 is a withering

Try as they might

Can't hear so well,

Can't keep up with the talk,

Can't see so well,

Or remember,

Forget about walk, walk, walk,

So we sat together,

Just hanging out,

Yes, we just sat together,

That's what visits are about.

Walk faster, walk faster

Let it go,

Defy your genes,

Break a sweat,

Walk, walk, walk,

Oh this day ahead,

all the talk talk talk

hard conversation with a family,

planning with my team,

a working lunch,

meeting after school, 

talk, talk, talk,

a late night seminar,

every spare moment filled,

a blog post to write,

maybe I can consider that done?

Walk faster,

Walk faster,

Walk, walk, walk.

What are we wondering about?

Yesterday, I had the best of intentions of writing a "Tuesday Slice of Life for Two Writing Teachers." That didn't happen.

Let me add a post, one day late.

The autumn weather has been so inviting, I have been taking the children on neighborhood walks. I take them out in small groups during our centers time, and there's no end to the possibilities of exploration. We have gone looking for letters and numbers, particularly, reading signs. We have searched for colors - as seen in trees, leaves, flowers, sky, houses, signs, and more. We have searched for shapes, reinforcing our understanding of squares, circles, rectanges, and triangles. We think about maps and directions and which way is right or left. 

I love, love, love walking and talking and observing with children.

We often bring natural finds back to our classroom and add them to our sensory table, which in recent days has been showcasing nature items - seedpods, grass blooms, spent blossoms, leaves, feathers, more.  The children love using the tweezers, tongs, and magnifying glasses, here.

One of our early days out, we noticed the clouds in the sky. Extraordinary! Now, we don't leave school without our clipboards - so that we might sit and draw what we see. 

Tuesday SOL How many more walks do I have this year?

 This is a Tuesday "Slice of Life" for Two Writing Teachers. Check out their website for lots more reflections on teaching.

*******

Three things immediately excite me when I think about our move to a new, permanent school location next year:

- Playground and green space at our school.
- Bathrooms in close proximity.
- A much larger classroom.

When I see the plans for the new school, it is as if a weight is being lifted from my shoulders. I'm not really sure which of these matters most - their importance varies with each week, day, or hour.

Right now, I find myself obsessing about next year's playground and green space.

Our daily walks on the walking rope have been very difficult.

Won't it be so awesome to throw open a door and let the children play?
To let the children get their wiggles out, at a moment's notice?

Yes, my mind wanders and I begin imagining - things to climb, room to run, places to dig and explore...

however...

the reality is, we still have six more weeks of school.

There are still many more daily walks.
Now.
This year.
With these preschoolers.

This is how we get to the local playground, several blocks away,
this is how we get to the national park,
several blocks away,
this is what we do each day,
after centers,
before story time,
for fresh air.
Twenty-three preschoolers
on a walking rope.

It has been the best solution for a difficult environment.

Keeping them safe,
moving through the city blocks,
all together,
one community.

It is our routine.


Our routine has reached
a painful crescendo.


How to describe the recent walk that did me in?


A blur of shoes, falling off feet,
new summer shoes - "larger, to grow into,"
ballet flats that slip off when you think about them,
big preschool feet stepping on the heels of the child in front of them, forcing that shoe off,
incessant "shoe problems!" (as the children cry out) that
stop the entire process,
forcing the walking rope to a halt,
as we tend to the missing shoe.
How impossible it is for two dozen small beings to walk so closely and precisely together.
A blur of voices, disturbingly loud,
in each other's ears,
singing, "Let It Go!"
calling, "Ms. Ingram! Ms. Ingram! Ms. Ingram!"
shouting, "STOP! That's hurting my ears!"
making our movement together
so painful.
How impossible it is for two dozen small beings to walk so closely and precisely together. 
A blur of hands, full of motion,
pulling on landscaping and flowers,
bending over to pick things up from the ground,
pushing classmates,
jerking the entire rope to a stop.
How impossible it is for two dozen small beings to walk so closely and precisely together.
Shoes, voices, hands
tears, whines, hurt.

Yes, this was the walk that did me in.

Back in the classroom,
as the children settled down for story time,
I explained that we had to talk about today's walk.

First, we did some deep breathing together.

Then, a show of hands,
"Who felt sad on today's walk?"
[Everyone's hands shoot up - and lots of voices, with corroborating stories...]

"What makes us sad on walks?"
This question resulted in four specifics:
- when someone walks on another's heel
- when someone uses a very loud voice
- when someone hurts another with their hands
- when someone keeps singing even when their partner says "Stop!"

[I was struck by how no one mentioned the "individual" wrong-doings, such as - pulling a flower from the landscape, or kicking one's own shoes off...everyone focused on the "injustices" that had been done to them by another classmate. I see this as growth - preschoolers who want friendships. These preschoolers are no longer playing parallel, alongside one another, but desire cooperative togetherness. I decided not to interject my own voice on this list, not to have it include all the challenging behaviors that I noticed. Instead, let's build those friendship skills!]

Me - "What might we do to prevent each of these? Let's take them one at a time and think about them. How can we get along in the community of our walking rope?"


We talked about how physically close everyone is on the walking rope, with
no one able to move to a further location...
how this is different from other parts of our day, when
everyone is allowed to move freely.
Maybe we have to behave differently on the walking rope?


With that, there was a sea change -
preschoolers began thinking about actions they could each do that would help us all.


We made

"Our Walking Rules"

- Watch our feet as we walk
- Use calm voices
- Take deep breaths and keep our hands to ourselves
- "Stop" when asked


The next day,
just before leaving on our walk,
I reviewed their ideas from the day before and
asked each child to sign the rules,
indicating that they would try their very best on our walk.

I love how these preschoolers were able to reflect and suggest changes.

Now, when walking,
the children are noticing helpful behaviors.

We are making the best of it.
Accenting the positive.
Working together.

[But I am still counting...
How many more walks do I have this year?]