SOL26: March 27 Just an Hour

II'm writing every day in March as part of the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life group. This slice comes to Ana who chaired our Thursday night writing group this week. Ana suggested we all write about the hour before we zoomed into the meeting.

She pulled down her cap and started swimming while I hopped over to the room where that fake running machine, otherwise known as elliptical, sits waiting to torture. I did the requisite minutes as fast as I could. I was on a mission, and the sweat dripping from my brown was evidence of my intent to get as much into the next hour as I could.

I quickly headed to the circuit were those foreboding machines were mocking me to come visit even though there were others with toned bodies and perfectly defined abs mulling around as if they had nothing else to do. I did the arm pull down machine, station 1, but my heart was already reading slices.

Fortunately, I had thrown my Chromebook into my gym bag, thinking maybe I might catch part of my writing group. I followed my heart and headed to the table near the pool.

I glanced over, She looked small compared to the others as she swam back and forth, almost effortlessly. She was clearly the younger sister in this cohort and I was feeling apprehensive for her; but, she was strangely confident practicing without her usual teammates as she prepared for the biggie Regional Meet.

For a moment, I lost my focus and returned to that morning, not that long ago, when her mom insisted I join the smiling toddler as she learned to jump off the side of the pool. If I am honest, I think she was confident even then. What I really remember is that I was a petrified new Meme , not sure of anything, learning to swim on my own in a new life that I could not even imagine. I did have one of those really cool Slice of Life moments thinking, "It is a good thing confidence is not genetic."

Then, filled with hope, I logged onto zoom where my friends were already gathering, grateful for this community where I too take risks, do hard things and practice writing every day in March.

SOL26: March 26 Black Suburbans

I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life group this month.  I have tried to find joy in every day life. This post is different, feel free to not read. Yet, some days there is more sadness than joy, like yesterday in the immigrant heavy community where I live. I did see the Suburbans and that got me going. I debated not sharing, but this is real, even though I am not sure about the Starbucks part........

Four black Suburbans sat waiting

Stealthily, at dismissal

While four engines were running 

In spite of the price of gas

While eight agents were sipping mocha lattes

Munching fresh croissants, bagels,

While ear buds were tuned to Opening Day, 

They'll catch the game, then

Nab a mom, babysitter, lunch aide.....

While TSA agents drive by in Ubers 

To put food on the table

While the lines grow at airports

Ticket prices increase by the hour,

While hikers are sent away from

Yosemite, Grand Canyon

While delis shutter their doors

As customers pray for another extension

While in Sacramento, gas nears $7

As bombs drop into the sea.

While we are distracted by Cuba, China

Greenland, Venezuela, Iran, China, Dubai,

While tariffs are tossed around like 

Lysol after the flu hits home

While carrots, peanut butter, hamburgers

Become treats saved for birthdays

While our hearts are heavy and our

Minds are distracted by daily legal battles..

We have not forgotten 

Thousands of unnamed souls warehoused in abandoned buildings, 

Flown to foreign lands where they have disappeared 

To live their days in punishment,

Reassigned to a country where they have never lived before 

Away from children, spouses, jobs, courses, loves,

Forced to give up dreams of making the world a better place

Altering their future,

Those around the world w

Who hate us more than ever before

Those lost including Virginia, Renee, Jose, Tyler, Alex, Luis,  

Geraldo, Victor, Heber, Noah, Cody, Nicole,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

 

SOL26 March 25 This Old House

This month, I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life group sharing bits and pieces of life. This post is about my little old house. I was locking the front door when the UPS person was delivering a package next door. You need some perspective to understand why they rushed over!

My house, like all the houses on my street, is a centenarian and has all the charm and quirks that come with old age. For example, the outside wall are made of lathe and stucco with absolutely no insulation. It also has radiators built into the walls that sound like drummers live inside; yet are amazingly efficient even if covered with about 20 coats of paint.  The floors squeak, the windows leak, there's a nest at the peak.

About 50 years ago, some strong owner hauled in a solid oak mammoth with a leaded glass inset and made it the front door. It weighs a ton and works as long as cold winds don't blow too much and the temperature stays above freezing. This has not been a good winter for entering and leaving my house which is why I keep a screw driver and an old shoe near the inside and outside of the door! I am sure you think I am quirky like my house, but let me explain.

I was locking my front door when that delivery person yells, "Let me help you up!" I guess they saw me sitting on the porch floor and thought I had fallen. Truth is, to lock the door you need to raise the door up and make the lock align. I kneel down and use a screw driver wedged into the bottom, and an old shoe to hold the door up about a quarter of an inch. Then, I get up and let  the key to do its thing before going back down to remove the shoe and the screwdriver. Phew!

I demonstrated to the UPS driver who watched and shook his head. I am pretty sure he is not participating in this writing festival, but if he were, we would both have found our slices!

SOL26 March 24 Perspective

I am writing with Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life group this month. In this chapter of life I teach in diverse settings. Sometimes, I wear nice clothes and students refer to me as professor; other times I am half-naked, in a pool,  a substitute gym teacher. Sometimes I cover the Stretch and Flex class which is what you think it is. Diversity is the spice of life, right? This happened in the second setting....

John Denver was crooning, "Sunshine on my shoulders," as the class wrapped up. Like students everywhere, some raced out past the row of swim bags, towels, walkers! Others lingered to stretch a bit more, talk to each other, or talk to me, the substitute teacher.  

"This song makes me so happy," Maria began chuckling, "and reminds me of my own children listening to records." I knew Maria from another class I covered. She is a talker and a cheerleader for her classmates. Plus she really gets into activities like the ball toss we did earlier.  She probably had many report cards suggesting she needs to talk less and listen more.

"Do you know Rosie?" she continued and then without my answer added, "she is my hero. She is 93 and still helps out at the food pantry!" 

"You are a reminder of what exercise does for your body and mind," I told Rosie and trust me I meant it. 

Maria continued, "I'm only 83 but I still downhill ski, just no more black diamonds for me! I try not to fall!" she added as she continued to sway in the water. 

Someone joined Stevie Wonder, "You are the sunshine of my life," and I began clearing the beach balls. Kerry added quietly but proudly. "I'm going to be 90 next week and I am here 3-4 times a week even on cold rainy days like today." She picked up her pink metallic device and danced to the showers.

"I'm only 77," Sandy smiled as she headed up the ramp, "but I have replacement joints in all the areas! I loved the beach ball toss."

"This was a happy class. I feel sunshiny even if it is still raining," Valerie offered in appreciation.

I loaded up, clicked my heels and danced out of the pool grateful for water and perspective.

Ethical ELA: Claudia Sheinbaum

Today's Ethical ELA asked us to consider contemporary women in the news. I knew right away that I would like to write about the Nobel Prize winning President of Mexico. have watched her from afar with quiet admiration for her dignified stance in her relations with the United States. It would appear she avoids name calling, abusive language, and retaliation in favor of productive and focused dialogue. She appears to be, in my opinion, a class act who focuses energy on making the world a better place.

First
Female, Jewish

Nobel Prize Winner

Earned Pd.D, Nobel Prize,

Accomplished energy enginer, climate scientist,

Mexico City Mayor Introducing novel Cablebus 

Accomplished improved citywide commuting, addressed everyone's security,

Implemented gender-neutral uniform policy for students schools,

Landslide victory Presidenta Mexico, dialogue, de-escalation earning praised internationally

Her Excellency Claudia Sheinbaum

SOL26 March 23: Closer to Spring

This month, I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life  group sharing a slice of my life each day.  This slice comes from a tiny bite of the first Sunday morning of spring.

I thought I read or heard it was going to be in the 60s, so I pulled on my cropped yoga pants and the quilted vest yearning to see the light of spring, and dashed out the door. I turned around before locking to grab a winter coat. It was overcast, drizzly, and felt very cold even if it was the first Sunday morning in spring! 

I turned on the seat warmers, cranked up the heat, and realized it was 39 degrees. I jumped on the highway and was almost there when I noticed DD was next to the exit ramp. I made a fortuitous decision and stopped for a large, hot, black coffee.

There were SUVs lined from stem to stern and a field of preteen girls in shorts and tees tossing yellow balls from tiny baskets attached to sticks. Meanwhile, their parents caught up on the local gossip, children's sports accomplishments, and the costs of training clinics. "We did the travel program where they promised 100 games including some at Disney World," one boasted.  I cringed, wondering the cost, time and family energy.

I noticed a bevy of brothers playing soccer, a bunch playing football, and a few tossing Frisbees oblivious to the loud geese returning in the largest V formation I've ever seen while sipping my coffee. Meanwhile. parents wrapped in blankets and siblings snuggled under blankets, trying to warm themselves while the wind blew across the fields. Finally, the shivering girls began to play.  

It was 8:45 in the morning and it was finally spring on the calendar, at least. I smiled thinking of the poem, I Heard a Bird Sing.  We are at least nearer to spring than we were in September!

 I Heard a Bird Sing  by Oliver Herford

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.

"We are nearer to Spring 
Than we were in September,” 
I heard a bird sing 
In the dark of December. 

From Welcome Christmas! A Garland of Poems (Viking Press, 1955).
This poem is now in the public domain.

Ethical ELA March 22 What Makes Readers

I am doubling up this weekend writing also with Ethical ELA about female authors and banned books. It's funny that I am choosing to write about J.K. Rowlings  as I was not really a huge fan of her books in the beginning; however, I am a fan of how she turned on millions of readers and writers to the magic of stories. 

Joanne, it's strange that I would choose to honor your today

I had to plow through and was critical of what was not there

I had to make myself figure out what all the buzz was about

I had to find some of your magic that made them excited.

You, Joanne, have done more for more readers than I 

Could ever do in this lifetime even the with best idea, I

Could not turn on the millions your words spurred who 

Could devour your stories and your magical characters.

Joanne, you may have triggered a few of the naysayers

They didn't see that you knew what readers need

They didn't see the excitement the discussion the wonder

They still look at what isn't rather than what makes readers.

You, Joanne, found the magic touch and deserve 

Praise for staying with it in spite of great hardship

Praise for holding tight to your ideas that challenge others

Praise for helping generations of readers find the wonder.

Please accept this gift of gratitude as well as a reminder to respect the very diverse tastes of readers that mirror the amazing diversity of people.

SOL26 March 22: I Leaned In

I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Group this month sharing bits and pieces of life. In retrospect, I might have been supporting reading or I might have been sneaking a side-hug or I might have been enjoying the warmth of his heart. 

"How many more minutes do I need?" he asked after 5 minutes of looking at the same page without reading a word. I shifted closer hoping for at least a few pages even though I knew he was exhausted.

"I'll give you 30 seconds per page?" I offered figuring he'd give me a quick, negative response. Instead, he slowly but surely started to read, word by word, line by line. I leaned in to bridge that gap between what he might do alone and what he can do with support*. I'll swear that is what I was doing even if I was appreciative of the sort of lean-in-side-hug I was getting and the warmth of his heart. Then, the book was over. 

He got 5 minutes of screen time, which was just enough to find some game and feel as if he had won that round. He brushed his teeth while gaming, practicing multitasking, which is also an important skill. I'd say we both won, but I got the better deal.

Ethical ELA March 26: Quiet Strength

I am writing with Ethical ELA this weekend and the prompt asked us to consider women in our family in our poems today. There are many women I could write about as I am surrounded by strong women who go after what they want and live with their head high. This is a poem about my sister-in-law who was my model for being a mother, who left us too soon, but whose quiet strength is still a motivating force. She really had only one request from me and to be honest I would have done it anyway.

Because if you can be there, I will be forever grateful she said realizing her last grandchild would
Arrive before they returned that spring and knowing I would love on them all in 
Real life until she could be physically present might have been a prophetic wish
Because her timeline was shorter than any of us could have imagined 
And the love already was established allowing for someone to be there
Representing special dresses, concerts, graduations
And remembering we need someone who cares in the background, as I remember the day she said

Just take care of that baby as I struggled with my own crying one years earlier 

And she added, remember these days will fly past and you will wish them back, adding again and again

No problem with every question, request, while showing me mostly with

Examples like how to butterfly a wound and love on your child no matter what

SOL26 March 21: Special Delivery

This month I am writing with Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life.  Sometimes, the slices are right in front of you.....

I noticed her when I brought the trash cans from the curb, laying in the wet grass at the back of the garage. I banged on the can, but let's be honest, a plastic can does not make the kind of sound the old aluminum ones did. I rapped on the can with my hand again and again, but today's cans do not bang like the old ones. 

I saw her standing in the same place later when I glanced out the window at the rain on the horizon.  From the second story it was clear she had a newborn trying to find his first legs. 

I was mesmerized at the special delivery in my backyard on the first day of spring. I did think of trying to get closer and getting a picture (SOL duh!) but then I stopped myself and remembered those magical moments of newborn bliss before the realities of life come back into focus. "It's a dangerous world out there," I thought as his mom urged him forward, "but please spare my hydrangeas, Little Bud."