June 25, 2025 75 years ago

My mother always treated "June 25th" as a "holy day of obligation," requiring at least a phone call, and more appropriately a gift such as flowers. To be honest, I forgot their "anniversary" many times over the years as it often was paired with the last day of school, the need for classroom dismantling, and/or a play-off game. I usually offered a "sorry," and a earned a stern reminder.  

Today would have been my parents' 75th Anniversary if they had the incredible run of Jimmy and Roselyn Carter.  Instead, my parents "only" had 55 anniversaries celebrating the tenacity and patience it took for two very different people to honor that "death do us part" promise. 

I suspect they could have parted on the years when they moved two or even three times or during the years when physical and mental illnesses challenged any celebration. I am pretty sure they wondered about their future when job losses and medical bills challenged their equilibrium.  Yet, their decision to bend and accept provided a foundation and model of tenacity and patience that I could not offer my own children. 

#sol25 Home For Sale

My friend's home is for sale.  People are slipping off their shoes and fingering her kitchen counter where not so long ago she stood happily serving quiche and tempura shrimp while making sure glasses were kept full. Strangers are squatting in her sunny room, these days, where we shared unimaginable challenges, unbelievable betrayals, and life-altering losses. My friend no longer sleeps in her oversized bedroom with the king-sized bed and enormous television screen.

Someone is going up and down the stairs counting bathrooms and imagining their family in her space, the one her family once filled with love and acceptance. There are people imagining the miracle of an indoor pool on a snowy day and wondering if a pool table would fit in the basement. My friend is sad, even though some memories are fading.

The physical structure of a home provides a foundation for any family during the long and challenging days of days of working, raising a family and living full lives. Within any family, there will be losses, separations, and disappointments and there maybe many "moves" to "new-to-them homes". Most of those changes will be exciting, even if mixed with sadness.   

However, the chapter of life where all the wallpaper, crystal and Lenox is no longer needed comes for all of us who are "lucky" enough to live long enough. There is no way around it; this chapter is wrapped in sadness and measured in memories. 

There will be a new family, but that home already has a foundation of memories. 

sol25 Tiny But Mighty

 

The "vintage" Casablanca version dangled above my head like a giant albatross for years. I did turn it on once, in the early days, when the temperature in my bedroom was unbearable; however, it bobbled and swayed like an aging dancer attempting a late night fox trot on the ceiling! Since then, it just "hung around" awaiting extrication. 

"Could you just cap it?" I asked the electrician after he did the required electrical updates celebrating my home's centennial birthday. 

"Why not a little fan," he suggested whipping out a couple of photos. 

That is how the tiny, but mighty fan found its way onto my ceiling reminding me that you can be tiny, but mighty.

June 12 Have You Ever Wondered?

Have you ever felt your heart in your throat? 

Have you ever wondered what you really saw? 

I live in an area that was once heavily influenced by Italian immigrants as noted by streets named for saints and shops still filled with cuccidati. In recent times, immigrants from Central and South America have filed in thanks again to jobs and access to NYC. Their contributions, as well as their empanadas, are important to the ever changing fabric of America.

As I headed to the bank, I saw what I first thought was a funeral procession with large black Suburbans, but parked in from of a row of restaurants? There were also vans and sedans, some double parked. The people in black clothing, some in masks, made me think a hold-up was in process, for a moment, but there was no secrecy to this operation and I adjusted my thinking. Unlike on TV, no one had an ICE label emblazoned on their chest and rather than guns drawn, some were holding large coffee cups? There were no identifiable police cars around.  Yet, in this er of immigration crackdown?

As I got closer, my heart was in my throat and I wondered if this could really be, in my small town, in the early morning hours, in broad daylight, what I thought it was?  Should I stop and protest the deportation of people making empanadas in my community?   Or, was this an early morning food run before the days' arrests?  

I circled around the block again, wondering, worrying, with my heart in my throat, because it would seem as if someone, somewhere would not be going home tonight. 

I suspect I am not alone in wondering what is going on and why?

sol25 June 10 Slices of News

 

I remember (augmented by pictures) sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper with my father.  It is possible the memory is cemented by images of him reading the newspaper no matter where we lived! There was of discussion of news at the dinner table and sports, morning and night, even more when my brother discovered the sports page!

Memories of major news moments, Vietnam Protests, 9-11, are framed by words, pictures and opinion columns about the events. 

For many busy years, my daily reading was the local headlines, but the weekend papers were embraced extra coffee and news abandon.   

Lately, I glance over my weekly local paper with updates about fires and politics for about 45 seconds IF the 4 pages do not get drenched in rain before I see it. There is little of substance; yet, I read it out of habit.

These days, I start with the NY Times Online in the early morning and catch updates with coffee. This morning, again, the headlines and the subheads were brutally disheartening. My heart beat faster and my angst grew exponentially as I tried to make sense of the many fights, feuds, and frays along with the threats, lies, and theatrics.  

These days, I no longer look forward to the news. 

These days, I am afraid.

SOL25 The Great Debate Rages Onward

 Thanks to The Two Writing Teachers Site for

supporting this Tuesday Slice of Life share.

"Everything we were doing was wrong," the former colleague said proudly sharing her real Orton Gillingham training and disregard of anything else. I acknowledged her enthusiasm while thinking about asking how she is addressing vocabulary and comprehension.  "Once they can decode, reading just takes care of itself," she grinned. 

I cringed and thought about whether or not to engage, but my voice was not to be quieted. "I like the way Orton provides a solid phonics framework, but what I feel the deja-vu of the Great Debate (Chall, 1967). The Science of Reading research clearly states that the most effective way is to teach reading is decoding and language comprehension. You might want to check out Scarborough's reading rope idea (1990) to understand some of the balancing perspective."

"It's OK," she smiled, "this time we have it right!"

I thought about all those old textbooks from the early 1900's I collected over the years each proclaiming either vocabulary rich or phonetic approaches to reading depending on the year of publication.

I thought about the millions of phonetic readers and now leveled texts relegated to landfills on the way home.

The Last Class

When a class ends,

Rejoicing mixes with pensiveness,

Particularly when your Jesuit-based-institution

Embraces reflection.

Sometimes, those reflections are

A better evidence of learning than grades.

"Last year, I thought I knew everything about learning to read and almost everything about teaching because I had been to school and my children were in school even though I had not begun teaching. I thought "old" teachers did not think about kids and only cared about paychecks. I thought I was going to be THAT teacher that threw out all the old stuff that was not working and change things.  I would have all my students focus on phonological awareness and after they were sure of all the sounds they would be reading everything they wanted to read. I was sure that I had all the answers. Then, the more I learned, the more I learned I needed to learn, and the more I wanted to learn, and the more questions I had! Some might say that my questions mean I am not ready to be a leader; however, I know, now, that my questions mean I am prepared to be a critical reader, a careful consumer of ideas, and a respectful teacher who knows there are no one-size fix-all-solutions to working with the diverse humans who all deserve to be readers, writers, and learners in all of our classes."

Class dismissed. 

May 24 Memorial Poppies

This short poem, a Shadorma (3-5-3-3-7-5) is inspired by 

John who was outside Shoprite on the eve of Memorial Day weekend.

He worked for the VA, lost a leg in Afghanistan and

is passionate about the lessons we should have learned from history.

He sat there

Giving out poppies

Donations

Accepted

Remember those lost in wars

Freedom is not free

SOL25 May 20 Much to Celebrate

Thank you Two Writing Teachers for this weekly forum.

Today, I am sharing a slice of life that has lived only in my heart

Until today.

There was much to celebrate

That evening

Grilled salmon, steamed asparagus, bargain wine,

I recounted my trip down the West Side

My meeting, getting final approval.

"Take your laptop with you," he suggested,

"you might get some work done," not realizing

What lie ahead.

I left before coffee, after the early-morning call. 

An accident, an ambulance, precautions.

I found them still in the ER, waiting for results.

"C1C2 fracture, Level 1 trauma," he said, 

"hopeful, fingers, toes moving," not knowing,

What lie ahead.

Conversations, concerns, signs,

Suggesting a miracle,

There was so much more to celebrate

That morning. 

Ethical ELA May 19 You Helped Me and I Helped You

On a glorious Monday, Ethical ELA prompt requested  a demi-sonnet!  My first thought was to pretend I didn't see the prompt and my second thought was, "too busy!" Yet, 7 lines with a sort-of-rhyme and no syllable count can't be that bad, can it? I knew of the reading experience I was glad I stopped to embrace.

We read "Little Blue Truck,"* every time, 

"You helped me and I helped you." 

Your damp locks next to my heart, 

Until the "Day the Crayons Quit,"* where you knew

Every single laugh, pun, joke in every single line,

Finally, you picked up "Dog Man,"* on your own

Smiling, while happy-sad tears welled in mine.

*Little Blue Truck (Schertle), The Day the Crayons Quit (Daywalt), and Dog Man (Pilkey)are popular children's books that span the early reading experience for children (and their lucky Memes).