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.

How do you say goodbye?

This summer is filled with packing and leaving.

The children, as is true every year, packed up and left the building, knowing 

(though not entirely understanding) that they would not be preschool Big Cats anymore.

We teachers, at the school year's end, spent a busy week packing up our classrooms for our move to our new school this August.

Now, here in July, I am at my parents' house in South Carolina, packing them up to move to a retirement community up north.

Packing and leaving.

A summer filled with boxes.

A summer filled with emotions.

How do you say goodbye?

I believe it is so important to 

pause

and identify

and hone in

on all the little, ordinary actions that

comprise your life

and recognize these,

celebrate these,

embrace their significance.

That last day of school, we celebrated saying goodbye to the walking rope.

Honestly, I don't know who was more excited - 

the children, 

for whom "no more walking rope" is a matter of pride, knowing that they are now advancing to pre-K (and they will simply hold hands with a partner as they walk)?

Or me?  

I know I will no longer be using a walking rope every single day at the new building, because, 

yes, yes, yes, we will have green space right on our premises!

We lined the children up 

one last time

with the walking rope.

I emphatically asked 

each pair of children  -

Do you feel ready for Pre-K?

Do you agree that you no longer need this walking rope?

With each enthusiastic "YES!,"

I symbolically cut a ring off   

of this torn, old, worn out rope. 

"Go forth!" I encouraged.

The children walked two by two

towards the dumpster and

threw their ring away.

It was important to me that we "say goodbye to the walking rope" and

the children loved it.

Now, here at my parents' house,

I'm daring to take my Dad down memory lane, too.

I'm hoping that what works with preschoolers 

will soothe him 

and me

as well.

This isn't a family home that we are saying goodbye to.

Perhaps this makes it easier for me and my brothers?

My parents retired here and had some twenty good healthy years in this location.

But now, with my Mom having dementia and 

my Dad with Parkinson's and other physical ailments (perhaps due to all his caregiving),

they are leaving here for a retirement community

close to family.

Mom is already safely ensconced in her new home, 

surrounded by 24 hour care, and

the love and attention of my oldest brother and his family.

My other three brothers and I are here in South Carolina with Dad,

packing and

remembering.

In the midst of all the boxes,

we are going down memory lane with him,

physically,

doing routine things together,

pausing,

identifying,

remembering...

coffee at Sunrise Cafe, 

looking for dolphins at the ocean,

hush puppies and a cold beverage at South Beach,

attending church at Holy Family,

listening to Frank Sinatra, Willy Nelson, Jim Croce on the porch,

eating Philly cheesesteaks from Publix,

walking the neighborhood.

How do you say goodbye?

May it be as soothing for my 85 year old father 

as it was for my preschoolers.

My brothers (Sonny, David, Ralph), my father, and me, attempting a selfie as we begin packing.

SOLSC #24 Not the mantras I want repeated

I am posting every day during March as part of the annual "Slice of Life" Challenge for Two Writing Teachers.  Check out their website for lots more reflections on teaching.

*******
Our walk today was only two blocks long,
on a bright, sunny, though somewhat crispy, cold day.
(40 degrees, I think? Not much wind...
not too bad from my perspective...
I thought the fresh air would do us all some good).

But when we got to the furthest point away from school,
I had three preschoolers
who could not be soothed,
who began to repeat the most annoying mantras,
who didn't care how their words and actions affected the rest of us.
Over and over,
all the way back to school,
making the walk feel so, so, so long,
as they repeated,
and repeated
and repeated:

Child One [refusing to zip up his coat or put on his gloves from his pocket] - I am cold. I am cold. I am cold. I am cold. I am cold. I am cold. I am cold. I am cold. I am cold. I am cold.
Child Two [pulling the walking rope to stop the entire line of classmates] - I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to. I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to. I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to. I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to. I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to.
Child Three [walking backwards]-Why are you saying that? Why are you saying that? Why are you saying that? Why are you saying that? Why are you saying that? Why are you saying that? Why are you saying that?

To me, at the front of the line, I heard:

I am cold. I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to. Why are you saying that? I am cold. Why are you saying that? Why are you saying that?  I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to. I am cold.  I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to. I am cold. Why are you saying that? I am cold. I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to. Why are you saying that? I am cold. Why are you saying that? Why are you saying that?  I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to. I am cold.  I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to. I am cold. Why are you saying that? I am cold. I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to. Why are you saying that? I am cold. Why are you saying that? Why are you saying that?  I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to. I am cold.  I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to. I am cold. Why are you saying that? I am cold. I don't want to walk this far and I am not going to. Why are you saying that? I am cold. Why are you saying that? Why are you saying that?  Idon'twanttowalkthisfarandIamnotgoingtoIamcoldIamcoldWhyareyousayingthat
Idon'twanttowalkthisfarandIamnotgoingtoIamcoldIamcoldWhyareyousayingthat

Yes, it was dreadful.

**************

(A daily share by preschoolers in their own words)

A Story Collage by Zuren

     The Daddy is trying to get out of a cave. And the bear is blocking him. He jumps over him, but the bear is too tall for him to jump over and he keeps blocking him. Then the monster, he was so mean, he just got so tall and he got higher and higher until he touched the sky. The monster is in the cave. But there is a good guy in the cave. He was trying to get the monster out of the cave so Daddy can go and fix his car. The End

SOLSC #8 What is community?

I am posting every day during March as part of the annual "Slice of Life" Challenge for Two Writing Teachers.  Check out their website for lots more reflections on teaching.

*******


This past week, our preschool families hosted a dinner get-together at a local Salvadoran restaurant, Judy's. The children were surprised and excited that all the preschool teachers were there, too, and they enveloped us with hugs. (Don't they live and sleep at school? What are they doing outside of the building?) The preschoolers danced under a disco ball; we ate delicious pupusas, quesadillas, plantains; everyone mingled and talked. It was very low-key and absolutely delightful.

In the early evening light, I walked up the hill to the Columbia Heights metro station,
thinking about how comfortable I am in this neighborhood, this city.

I wonder

What does it mean to be connected?
What is community?
What makes a neighborhood?

For the past two years, my husband and I have driven to a nearby metro parking lot and then commuted by metro and foot to work. I have an energizing fifteen minute walk to my school each morning from the metro station.

This walking has helped me feel connected to the neighborhood.

The morning walk and its regular sights -

The newspaper man at the top of the escalator, "Have a good day! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!";

Men at the community park, as old as my father, laughing and socializing together;

Moms and Dads with children by the hand, waiting at bus stops and hurrying across intersections, all heading in different directions (the neighborhood school is a disappearing concept in DC - I think, how challenging this must be for families, figuring out where your children should go);

Cyclists pedaling down 14th street, much too fast for me;

High schoolers in their khaki uniform pants, walking in clumps, trying to make the 8am school bell;

The nanny with the double stroller, pushing up the hill...wonder where she heads each day?;

The crossing guard, giving a happy wave, "Have a good day!"

Construction workers on the corner, directing trucks in to the site at the start of the day, reassuring me that it is safe to pass;

The food delivery truck for the gourmet restaurant, coming down the neighboring alley;

Children and backpacks, hurrying into our school,

Happily beginning the day.


I walk these same streets with the children each day,
around the immediate city blocks, to the playground, or to Meridian Park,
guiding (and tugging) the children along on a walking rope.

All this walking has helped me feel connected to the neighborhood.

Our public charter school is moving to a new, permanent location next year, in another part of the city. I will get to know another part of Washington, D.C. There's a real possibility that I will be driving to the new location, parking at the school.

Will I feel as connected?

What does it mean to be connected?
What is community?
What makes a neighborhood?

*********

Just for fun, check out this Washington, D.C. version of Pharrell Williams "Happy" - guaranteed to make you smile!

Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof
Clap along if you feel that happiness is the truth

***********

(A daily share by preschoolers in their own words)

A Story Collage by Bernie

Once upon a time, there was a cruise ship with a blue dining room. And there was a sailboat and there were two pirate ships that were sailing to the cruise ship with the blue dining room and trying to wreck it. Them wreck it. The pirates wreck it. And the cruise ship sinks with all of the bashed in people that’s up in the front of the boat that’s making it leave the dock and to pick people at the dock, too. And make it go backwards, too. And they have to go to the hospital. There’s a hospital seaplane that comes and picks up all the hurt people. And to check if they are okay. The End

Tuesday SOL - How to bring nature in?

Tuesday Slice of Life with Two Writing Teachers

I had a fabulous bike adventure, just a week ago. My husband and I rode the C and O Canal for four days - all the way from Cumberland, Maryland to Georgetown, Washington, D.C., a 184.5 mile trek. It was my first time participating in "The Great Bicycle Tour," which supports the San Mar Children's Home in Boonsboro, Maryland.

Although there were some one hundred participants, we were spread out, riding at our own individual paces, and I found myself quietly and happily alone, riding along some of the most beautiful natural scenery - the Potomac river on my right, rocky cliffs on my left, and a long, muddy, rocky trail, as long as the eye could see, stretched out in front of me.


I did a lot of thinking, pedaling those many miles.

Mile after mile of
moving  
on dirt,
gravel,
sand,
mulch,
mud puddles.

One thing that I could not stop thinking about...and I truly hope I hold on to...was a profound gap in my teaching this past year -
my inability to give the preschoolers access to green space, the natural world, the great outdoors, on a regular basis.
I am determined to do things differently this next school year, to make it happen.

Exploring outdoors, freely, openly, is an essential part of preschool. I know this, I have always taught this way.

Mile after mile of
discovering
turtles,
ducks,
deer,
birds, even
a great blue heron.


Until this past year, it has always been so possible. I've never had to think about it or plan for it. I was surrounded by grass and dirt, places for children to dig, to look for pill bugs and worms, to garden, to jump in mud puddles.

Until this past year.
Our school moved to a new location in Washington, D.C. and we are surrounded by concrete, brick, and asphalt. All play happens on these surfaces. Our daily walks were to watch construction, sprinkled with play on a metal playground and running a groomed baseball field about once a week.

Mile after mile of 
noticing
the river,
trees,
rocks,
rapids,
cliffs.


I told myself it was enough. The children were outside daily, getting fresh air.

It is not enough.

Pedaling so many miles, lost in thought, I realized deep in my core that it is not enough.

It is a deprivation to not have the experience of nature.

Mile after mile of
wind and breeze.



There is a beautiful national park about three blocks from my school - Meridian Hill. We visited there several times this past year, but it seemed a formidable undertaking with my class of twenty-two preschoolers on a walking rope. With a mere hour in our schedule to be out and about, it seemed that we no sooner arrived at the park when it was time to turn around and head back to school.

Now, I'm determined to question these limits, these constraints - to turn them into possibility.

What if I designate one day a week as our park day? Why do I need to limit this to one hour? Why not spend the morning at the park, every week?

What if I cultivate family volunteers to support our outings on this weekly basis?

What if I plan for water bottles, sun screen, bug spray, rain boots, extra kleenex, hand sanitizer, etc - have these organized and at the ready? Oooh, what if I gathered drawing pads, so each child could record observations...

What if I get over to Meridian Hill this summer, and figure out a specific part of its 12 acres that could be the Big Cats ritual location? An area that they could discover and play in, to watch change with the seasons? 

How can I help my families to understand the value of this time outdoors? That it is not aimless, pointless play? How do I make sure that they are "on board"?

I am no longer pedaling in nature, but I am still lost in thought and possibility!

Having trouble with their emotions? Wait a moment.

We recently had a day where all I could do was shake my head.

We rallied the children to go outside for a walk,
all the while, one tenacious child complained about going, because
she was not dressed for the weather...
although the day before had been in the high 80s, this day was in the low 60s, cloudy, with a continued breeze. This is spring in Washington, DC, varying, one day to the next.

Thus, one day, shorts, next day, jeans.

However - not for this little one.
For her, rules and order are required - if shorts yesterday, then shorts today.

She refused to put on the light jacket that her mother had hung in her cubby.
[There's a classic preschooler perspective - I'm not wrong; it is the weather that is wrong.]

I knew this was going to be a difficult walk.

We headed outside for our daily walk, all the same.
This little one would suffer the natural consequence of not dressing properly.
(Being a bit of a softie, I planned to shorten the walk.)

We stepped outside the school and her tantrum accelerated.
Here, outside in the air, was proof that it was chilly.

Why walk and work up a sweat when one could cry and yell?

Sharde, our beloved teaching assistant, took this child aside and worked one-on-one with her, challenging her to see how several classmates were also wearing shorts and not complaining.
"Let's all be together, one community. We'll warm up as we walk. It's not so bad out here."

I let Sharde work with her while I continued to lead the line away from the school.

The children were more or less happy with the walk when all of a sudden, as luck would have it, it began to drizzle.

Yes, it was no longer just cloudy, windy, and cool, but let's have some continual drizzle, too.
This was turning into Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.
Even for the teachers!

Now, it wasn't just the one child falling apart.

Many children were complaining.
I heard a chorus, "Ms. Ingram, Ms. Ingram! It's too rainy! We need to go back!"

I turned to the two line leaders -
"What should we do? Turn around and get back to class and have a dance party? [we needed exercise] Or stay on our walk, because this rain is light?"

To my surprise and amusement, the two leaders chose different options.

[What a day! What strong and different feelings this class has, today!]

I again gave the decision back to them.

"You'll need to discuss this together and come to the same decision."

Back and forth, the two children bickered. "Go back!" "No, walk!"
I studied the line leaders.
One was a first-born, used to calling the shots, "Go back!".
The other was a second-born, relishing the position of opposite, "No, let's walk!!".
No compromise in sight.

The children behind the leaders grew louder with complaints - "Let's go back! It's raining too much! Let's turn around!" 

The drizzle and wind increased - or was it just the complaining?
Ugh. What a disaster this walk was turning into. 

The child in the back with the teaching assistant was howling in pain and frustration. 

All the children were yelling.

I bent down to talk to the leaders -
"It seems like everyone is very unhappy. I'm going to insist we go with the majority feeling - let's go back to school."
The sweet second-born - who had been so adamant that we continue walking - quickly agreed, as if it had been a non-issue for him all along, "Ok, Ms. Ingram! Let's go back!". 

I turned the line around,
only to have the entire second grade class pour out of the school to the front entrance area,
holding a large butterfly cage.

"What are you doing?," I asked.

All my preschoolers - noticing the butterfly cage - quieted down to hear the answer:

"We are releasing our butterflies today. We have thirty butterflies! Would you like to watch?"

We were almost back inside the school.

It was still drizzling.

It was still cloudy and breezy.
It was still cold.

But no one was crying or yelling anymore.

The Big Cats stood and stared, in awe, as these lovely butterflies were released into the air.
Butterflies floating into the sky,
some wandering onto shoulders, hair, even outstretched hands of these enthralled preschoolers.
Big smiles on all faces.

The earlier misery was completely forgotten.


What a great walk we had!
We saw butterflies!