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.

Tuesday SOL: Autumn fun

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.

Autumn is a fabulous time of year. My preschoolers have been loving the bright sunshine and cooler temperatures. We love collecting nature treasures outside. We have a growing science corner filled with these - pumpkins, pinecones, acorns, leaves, sticks, and more. One day this past week, I documented children's words as they played outside and gathered special finds; these words became a classroom poem that is shared below. When we returned to the classroom, we got out the paints and created works of art - one large classroom mural and individual pictures as well. There is so much to learn and discover in autumn.

Leaves, leaves, leaves.

Leaves fall down.

I see the leaves falling down.

Red leaf.

Brown leaf.

And purple.

Look at this leaf! It is orange.

A stick.

Sticks from the tree branches.

Trees are sticks.

I want sticks.

Do you want sticks, too?

We found berries on the bush.

Look what I found.

A rock!

Rocks!

We are collecting them.

It’s cold.

Really cold.

Wind in my hair.

Wind feels good.

Look at your hair! It’s windy!

Wind in my ponies.

Wind blows down the trees.

We are running and falling.

Fun!

Let’s do again!

-->

 

 

Shall we begin again?

We begin again.
Learning about the children,
oh so quickly.
She will observe.
He needs a hug.
He has an allergy.
Good luck with her naps!
Be on alert - he will elope.
Let's learn how to line up.
How to clean up.
What are the quiet signals?
When should we listen?
Shall we build with blocks?
What about paint?
Learning about the children,
oh so quickly.
He doesn't eat well, very picky.
She has so much to say!
She is somewhat shy.
Do you remember his older brother?
She's my oldest,
He's my youngest,
So good to know their birthdays.
Watch him run!
What a great laugh.
Oh, she's getting ready to cry.
Mommy coming soon?
Learning about the children,
oh so quickly.
Oops, I think he's had an accident.
Listen to their play!
"Bugs for dinner"
"They're scared."
"We can pretend it's a beach."
"A dog and a firefighter and some food."
"There's a monster coming."
Learning about the children,
oh so quickly.

sol17-30 Won't you sleep?

I am participating in the
Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOLSC).
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day of March 2017. 

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

I have one little preschooler who, no matter the day, cannot settle herself, stay quiet, or fall asleep at naptime unless she has a teacher's help. Truly, this is an amazing year because there is only one such student in the midst of a class of twenty-two preschoolers. There are several who are slow to nap and a handful who don't nap at all - but each of these is very quiet and respectful, able to self-soothe. Now, late March, this little girl and we teachers have our routine down - we first help everyone else in the room find their cot, lovey, special blanket, etc., and then one of us finds our way to her cot and sit down next to her, rubbing and patting her back. It actually has become a very sweet ritual. As I watched her fall asleep today, I thought I should try to capture some of this in a poem. Here goes!

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

She smiles and stares, all wide-eyed,

She calls out to her friends.

She's doing aerobics on her cot

Her body twists and bends.

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

I tell her it is time to rest,

She can't be dancing on the bed.

She frowns with slight protest

But agrees to what I said.

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

She fidgets with her lovey,

she tries not to make a sound.

Then she calls "Ms. Ingram!"

giving a pat to the ground. 

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

I move my chair next to her cot

She asks, "Will you stay with me?"

I reassure her, "I am here,

Now you must lay quietly."

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

She is so sweet and I wonder why

This napping becomes so hard.

We all learn at our own pace,

One day she will need no guard. 

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

I pat her back a little bit,

And I pat her back some more.

She wiggles her feet, nestles in,

Her blanket falls to the floor.

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

I pat her back in gentle rhythm.

Adjust her blanket just fine

The thumb goes in her mouth

I know that's a sleepy sign.

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

She looks up at me with one last glance,

Then softly closes her eyes.

There's a rhythm to her breathing

For which there is no disguise.

-->

I watched her fall to sleep.

sol17-19 What am I to do?

I am participating in the
Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOLSC).
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day of March 2017. 

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

What Am I To Do?

(a poem about challenging behavior in the preschool classroom)

He's thirty pounds of goading

You cannot believe he could

Sweetest little face and eyes

He will not do what he should.

He pours lunch milk on the floor,

Slowly dumps out all the blocks,

Takes special toys from his friends,

And runs when it's time to walk.

Of course, when the lights go out

and the slow nap music plays

He is now singing loudly 

tapping his foot, like a stage.

Shh! Shh! Take care! Please! Be kind!

I plead in so many ways

"Head, Shoulders, Knees" he now sings

The song we practiced today.

He's thirty pounds of goading

You cannot believe he could

Sweetest little face and eyes

He will not do what he should.

SOLSC #6 How will I get it all done?

During the month of March, I am participating in
the Slice of Life Story Challenge.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for thirty-one days. My slices will be primarily about teaching preschoolers.

Check out the Two Writing Teachers website for many more reflections on teaching.

Sunday preparation for the week ahead. 

Tension in my shoulders is beginning to spread.

First, there are report cards that are due tomorrow

That is just the beginning of this week's sorrow.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday each have after-school meetings,

None of which I can miss, though none help with this week's teaching.

Wednesday is a day that the superintendent observes,

We've all been warned that beginning teachers shouldn't say a word,

What are we teaching beginning teachers, if we are so afraid to fail?

Have the courage to be imperfect! I say to no avail.

Around the corner, just next week, are two big deadlines,

An art exhibition and a learning showcase that must both look fine

How will I get it all done? What time is there to do it?

Work expands to time allotted? - No, this won't soothe it

We are only five years old, a very young school,

We all run around like teaching fools

March Madness has another meaning for me this year,

I hope this little poem has begun to make that clear.

Tuesday SOL: Three poems about four girls

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

Check out their website for many more reflections on teaching.

My apologies - this post is not about teaching preschool...
in fact, it is radically different. 
Summer provides me time for reflection and creativity.

I'm daring to share some poetry that arose from my personal research and reflection about the four young black girls who were killed in a churching bombing by klansmen in Birmingham, Alabama in the 1960s.

 "I am just slowly awakening to the privilege of my own life experiences." 
Elissa Johnk


Until recently, I knew very little or nothing about these four young girls.

What were their names?

When did it happen?

How old were they? (How old was I?) (How old would they be now?)

What can I learn about their hopes and dreams?

Why did it happen?

How did their loved ones recover? Did they recover?

Why don't I know more?
Were they invisible to me because they are black and I am white?

Was I taught about them and I forgot?

Or was I never taught?

I don't have answers to all these questions yet, and I have many more questions the more I learn. These poems grew out of my reading/research about this horrific crime. 

Three Poems About Four Girls

The Calculated Crime*

Sunday,

September 15, 1963,

10:22 am,

16^th street Baptist Church,

some 450 parishioners gathered,

Birmingham, Alabama.

5 days after

3 all-white schools desegregated,

Birmingham, Alabama.

21 bombings

in 8 years;

1st that killed,

Birmingham, Alabama.

4 white klansmen,

15 sticks of dynamite,

20 black children injured,

4 black girls killed,

Birmingham, Alabama.

Addie Mae Collins, 14 years old

Denise McNair, 11 years old

Carole Robertson, 14 years old

Cynthia Wesley, 14 years old

Birmingham, Alabama.

[*Note - title of this poem was inspired by a reflection by Condoleeza Rice, at the 50th anniversary of the bombing; Condoleeza Rice was 8 years old at the time of the bombing and a classmate of Denise McNair. Here are her words: 

“The crime was calculated, not random. It was meant to suck the hope out of young lives, bury their aspirations, and ensure that old fears would be propelled forward into the next generation.” ]

-----

Wonder

Shredded,

strewn about,

shattered,

destroyed,

brightly painted children’s furniture,

bibles and song books ,

rear wall of church,

the back steps, and

all stained-glass windows,

except one,“Christ with the Little Children;”

this window was intact,

with only Jesus’ face missing.

-----

Hopes and Dreams

Addie Mae, Denise, Carole, and Cynthia.

September 15, 1963,

a new school year just beginning.

Four young girls, 

imagining, dreaming, hoping, and seeking.

Desiring college and careers?

Imagining love, hope, and peace?

Four young lives abruptly ended,

Addie Mae, Denise, Carole, and Cynthia.

Addie Mae Collins, 14,

An avid learner,

loved to draw,

imagined herself an artist,

strong and athletic,

with a powerful softball pitch,

an entrepreneur,

sold her mom’s potholders and aprons door-to-door,

her family loved her as a peacemaker,

solving conflicts amongst her seven siblings.

Denise McNair, 11,

an only child,

with a ready smile, and

a big heart for others,

she organized fundraisers for muscular dystrophy, and

an annual neighborhood talent show,

with skits, dance routines, poetry,

she was inquisitive,

stood up for others, and

wanted to be a pediatrician.

Carole Robertson, 14,

an “A” student,

an avid reader,

with many extra-curricular activities,

ballet, clarinet in the marching band, girl scouts, choir,

loved listening to rock and roll on the radio,

wanted to teach history,

she loved to let friends practice hairstyles on her,

she was a good listener, a mediator,

thoughtful, reflective, a good friend.

Cynthia Wesley, 14,

a strong student,

excelled in math and reading,

loved music and played clarinet,

she was much loved by two families,

informally adopted and treasured as an only child to educators,

visiting her birth home on weekends as a big sister,

she shows us it takes a village,

we need one another,

we are all connected.

Four young girls,

gifts and passions,

hopes and dreams,
instantaneously,
irrevocably,
shattered,

Wait!
Who were their best friends?
What did they want to know more about?
What were their favorite books?
What did they like to do when they got home from school?
What did they think about as they went to sleep at night?
What were their worries?
How were they hoping to change the world?

Four young girls,

gifts and passions,

hopes and dreams,
instantaneously,
irrevocably,

shattered,

tragically,
violently,
despicably.
Addie Mae, Denise, Carole, and Cynthia.