Mornin' bro!

“Mornin’ bro!” I hear behind me.  I don’t have to turn to see who it is.  Sam greets his classmates this way every morning as he walks through our classroom door.  His voice is cheerful and friendly and his peers respond happily, as they nonchalantly say “morning bro!” back to him.  He goes to his seat, unpacks and easily joins in with morning inquiry activities.  Sam doesn’t use ‘bro’ at any other time of day, nor does he use the term towards a particular friend.  I don’t know where he heard the phrase or if he started this routine prior to first grade.  I just know that it is one of the most cheerful ways to start the day.  And as we endure yet another 'atmospheric river' event this week, it is just the greeting we need to set the tone for our day!

One Year Later

 

One year later…a lot has changed and also not that much.  

One year ago I had a brand new blog that I was hoping to fill with 31 days of writing.  I was

nervous about this new endeavor, but excited too.  

One year ago, I was teaching from home, with my own four children sprinkled throughout

the house, all of us doing our best to teach, learn and make connections through zoom.

One year ago, the weather was damp and dark but signs of spring were popping up.

One year ago, I was grumbling about the bunnies that we were spotted feasting on some

favorite plants.  

This year my blog is one year old and although I’m not a frequent post-er I feel less

intimidated with the 31 day challenge and with sending my writing into the world, in the

form of a blog post.

This year I’m back in a classroom and starting to feel like myself again, finding so much

joy in my students and in my profession.

This year the weather is damp and dark, but signs of spring are popping up.

This year I am grumbling about the bunnies that we no longer spot, but we can see that

they are still feasting on some favorite plants.

Walking Toward a Scent

 “Where did you walk to?”  Cece asked as I was filling my cup with water.

“To where I could smell the trees,” I responded.  She looked at me without knowing, without understanding.  

“Past the lama fields to the three estates that aren’t developed," I explained. "There’s still so many trees and I can smell the pine in that spot.  It makes me feel close to home, to places we love.”  

“And out of the suburbs,” she quipped.

She wasn't wrong. In our urban/suburban living, it's hard to find space that has the smell, and feel, of being in undeveloped nature. Park trails are lovely and bountiful, but aren't quite the same. And as someone who finds solace in nature, a place to think and sort through thoughts, this can be problematic. It’s hard to stay grounded, to slow down, to pay attention as life picks back up to pre-pandemic pace.  I feel overwhelmed with the barrage of activities, emails, to-dos.  My walks are fewer, my senses less grounded.

So when I realized that I hadn’t walked all week, that I was giving my laptop too much power, and that really everything on it could wait, I left quietly to get a moment.  I walked a regular route but wanted to feel, and smell, the presence of the outdoors.  I went a little further to the undeveloped estates.  As I walked down the developed part of the street to narrow undeveloped road, the pine filled my nostrils and I felt relief.  Relief that the scent was there and relief that the familiar feeling hit me.  My shoulders relaxed a bit and my pace slowed.

I stood for a minute, listening (hopeful for an owl call) and smelling. Then I walked on to the end, circled back and headed home.  

Doors

I closed the door.  I stood in the quiet, the natural light, the tidy room.  A new discovery, I was alone.

In general we’ve always been an open door family.  Potty training was a family affair with everyone cheering everyone on.  My four kids found comfort in being with and/or hearing each other so bedroom doors were rarely closed.  I liked being able to hear them also. Then as we moved into the teenage years, we established rules that kept bedroom doors open if technology was present. Although doors are closed more frequently for privacy, it’s still not a norm around here. 

Since school closed in March 2020, I’m very rarely, if ever, alone.  There is always a kid up late with me or a kid up early.  Every room that I walk into for a minute of solitude I hear “hi mom” from a couch or chair that was hidden from view when I walked in.  If I head out for walk, a child will excitedly offer to come with me.  I appreciate the friendliness, but long for solitude too.

There are many sayings about closed doors suggesting a lack of opportunity or the end of something.  But on this day I discovered that this closed door was the opposite.  

I walked into my room and mindlessly closed the door behind me. When it shut I realized the opportunity this closed door offered.  I sat in the stillness for a minute and marveled at this new discovery.  I could be alone here.  I stood for a minute and took it in:  the bed that I make every morning, the natural light coming in the large windows, the solitude. 

Behind a closed door, I have found my space... and I’ve kept it a secret. 

A Journey to 31 Days

“I just can’t learn a second language,” he said as he rubbed his hands through his hair and stared at the chromebook screen.  

“Yes, you can,”  I replied automatically, then added, “and I’m here to help you.  We just need to focus on one step at a time.”

Tonight I sit at the table with my son and feel distraught that he doesn’t embrace school, and learning, like I did in high school.  I fret over his future and the few choices he may have because of the decisions he is making now.  I look at his list of assignments and the late work that he needs to complete for multiple classes and I feel as overwhelmed as he does.

When we have author visits at school, I’m always fascinated by the authors that share that they really weren’t very good at school and that they didn’t do well.  And yet here they are, successful published authors, entertaining large schools of children and seemingly enjoying their careers.  These success stories permeate other books and articles that I read in all parts of my life.

I don’t predict that my son will be a successful children’s author or someone famous enough to have a book or article written about, or by, him, but the success stories give me hope.  They remind me that the journey is long and takes many paths.  That all is not lost for this young 15 year old with so much potential.

In high school, although I took an AP course load, I wasn’t a confident writer.  I don’t remember a lot of writing instruction except for grammar lessons, I just remember challenging writing assignment after challenging writing assignment.  This lack of confidence followed me into college and again although my course load was rigorous (and I majored in English!), I struggled with writing and writing confidence.  

Writing professionally has taught me so much about myself as a writer and myself as an instructor of writing. This writing challenge even more so.  I’ve pondered participating in the SOLC each year but the idea of starting a blog held me back:  What would I write about?  Do I really want people reading my writing?  Can I keep up with writing each day?

But journeys are long and there are many paths.  Here I am...I have a blog of my own and it has 31 posts!  I’m very proud, very grateful and a little more confident.  (*Fran & Joanne...although total strangers, you felt like my biggest cheerleaders with your daily responses, thank you so very much - it actually makes me a little teary!*)

My thoughts turn back to the task at hand. I remind my son to get focused on the article he’s reading and we tackle this STEM chemistry project together.  Japanese homework is next.

Moving Out

Our district gave us the day today to prep for the upcoming changes from full-time CDL to hybrid learning.  A big part of my prep for this change was moving out of my house and back into the classroom.  I’ve been looking forward to this move since CDL began, but like all change there is some friction as well.  Although never perfect, I developed a rhythm working in my home with my four children nearby.  We had moments of big frustration:  with the internet, with each other and with the situation.  But we also had moments of joy: laughing around the island at lunch, enjoying a warm drink in the morning with whoever was up, listening in on each other’s classes.

In many ways we were pioneers, trekking our way through the unknown CDL territory and figuring it out together.  Trials and tribulations, sure, but also joy at moving forward into new landscapes and understandings.  

I’ll be at school full-time from here on out.  Two of my children will be joining their school in a week and the other two will join school two weeks after that.  We’re all excited but definitely feeling the feels of the upcoming change.

But as true pioneers, we move forward, onward. (and yes, I'm going to get family pictures back up on the wall 😊).

Coyote Wisdom

We stared at each other across the grassy wetlands.  A gentleman passed behind me on the way into the wetlands area but the coyote’s eyes stayed on me.  A woman in a bright yellow vest passed in front of me at a brisk pace.  She didn’t look to see why I was stopped and staring.  The coyote’s eyes didn’t waver, neither did mine.  “Do coyotes attack?” I wondered.  “I probably shouldn't run in case that attracts its attention even more." It felt like we stood that way a long time.  Two beings looking at each other, wondering and thinking.  I slowly backed up, back towards the entrance to the trail but kept watching him.  The trail was quiet now and he unlocked his eyes, flicked his tail and walked away.  I scurried home.

 

Once home, I did what I always do when I come across an interesting part of the natural world.  I looked for hidden meaning...on google.  The first heading that came up when I searched 'coyote symbolism' said: 

“For the most part, the coyote symbolism is reminding you to laugh at yourself.  In

other words, things have been entirely too serious of late.  Therefore you simply need

to let loose and get on with it.”  

Haha, I love this as an ending to my spring break of college visits and big decisions.  Although the spirit animal posts went on to share more coyote wisdom, my takeaway is this:  it’s time to get back to school and giggle with my students!

Upside Down

  

I noticed that a huge bulge in the soil in one of my pots was still there.  All the other bulbs had emerged, so I was surprised to see that this one was still having trouble coming up.  I investigated and dug a bit.  To my surprise the bulb was fully emerged, only it was upside down.  The soil bulge was the flower trying to push the bulb out of the soil - an upside down process!  I gently pulled the whole thing out and there was a full hyacinth.  The leaves were yellow and the flower was colorless.  I decided to plant the bulb right side up and see what would happen. I made sure it had some extra room and watered it well, before our expected rainy spell this week. The flower hasn't been able to stand itself up yet, but color is emerging on the flower and the stem feels strong. I marvel at it each day... life finds a way. 

Out of habit, I look for the metaphor in this flower... sometimes our students, or ourselves, may seem (and be!) upside down, but growth is still happening. Some plants in my garden need a little redirection but some, such as this one, need a more serious intervention. An intervention grounded in curiosity, gentle hands and space to grow will support our students (and ourselves) to find their way and flourish.

R.I.P. Mrs Cleary

“Rest in peace, Beverly Clearly” was the first thing I saw when I opened Twitter this afternoon.  The accompanying article confirmed this legend’s passing and I felt all the feels over this news.  I quickly texted all my children then continued scrolling, reading the memories and thoughts shared.  I connected to every single one of them.  

Ramona a was a staple in my house growing up.  But reading them as an adult to my young children felt even more magical.  Laying in bed at night with my kids snuggled around we read the books in order, chapter by chapter.  Ramona became part of our family as we giggled about her timeless antics and adventures.  When we finished the series we visited the Ramona landmarks here in Portland, OR and took pictures with her statue. We still cheer when we are on that side of town and pass by Klickitat street. I loved the common conversation topic and everything that reading the Ramona series taught my children about reading and being a reader.  

While revisiting a beloved character with my children was a treat, even more enchanting was the realistic glimpse into family living the books offered.  As a new parent I had high expectations for myself and the family life I wanted my children to have.  But these expectations aren’t always met.  Mrs. Cleary and the Quimby family are so good at recognizing, displaying and honoring the imperfectness of family.  

Coincidently, this afternoon, before the news of Cleary’s passing reached us, my daughter had started to rewatch the movie Ramona and Beezus.  We marveled at this coincidence and after dinner we all sat down and watched it together.  We giggled and we cried, every single one of us.  We all related to the imperfectness and the love of the Quimby’s.  What a legacy.

Pajama Pants

There was only one forgotten item

on the trip

and it was mine.

Everyone had shoes and clothes 

chargers and earphones

and even toothbrushes.

But I forgot the comfort,

the refuge

after a long day of jeans.

The soft flannel,

The elastic waist,

The perfect fit.

So when we arrived home

and unpacked and ate dinner and did laundry and walked around the yard,

I put on my pajama pants

and sighed a sigh of happiness 

at the feeling of home.

The 'M' Trail

We had an open day ahead of us and movement was in order!  We headed for the large white ‘M’ painted on the side of the hill.  It is reminiscent of Table Rock in Boise, but different: a shorter, steeper trail switchbacking all the way up.  The kids hopped out of the car and made their way to the trailhead.  Charlie and I moved a little slower.  We didn’t exchange any words, but our looks at each other reflected everything we were thinking:  Will we make it to the top?  How sore will we be tomorrow?  Ugh, this looks hard!

When Charlie and I first met we enjoyed a lot of outdoor, active activities.  We hiked and walked and rowed.  We ran 5Ks and camped and skied.  We loved to take advantage of what the northwest has to offer.  As each child came along though, it seems we engaged in these activities less.  Sports schedules and social events fill our weekends. Less time, less energy, less outdoor fun. We lament this often.

As we started up the hill I thought about backpacking to a back country fire lookout with my dad.  We did this each summer growing up, and the hike never seemed to get easier. “There’s no rush, we have all day,” I remember him saying.  “Find a pace and put one step in front of the other, just keep going.  And take the switchbacks wide.”  I followed this old advice, got into a rhythm and moved myself up the mountain.

It wasn’t fast but I made it.  My three older kids were there to cheer me on and we in turn cheered on Charlie and Henry who were just a bit behind me.  We frolicked at the ‘M’, took pictures, played around, vowed to do more hiking.

The way down was easier, but not much quicker. Charlie and I chatted about our relief at making it to the top. We reminisced about our old active selves. We listened to Henry chatter.

I was thankful that those old hiking lessons came back to me: find a pace, one step in front of the other, no need to rush, take the switchbacks wide...just keep going. Good life lessons really.

A Tight Hug

“Stop moving, Henry”  I heard my older son say through gritted teeth for what felt like the zillionth time.  I knew his patience was getting short.  I also knew that whatever Henry was doing, it wasn’t intentional.

“Henry, come sit over here, Dad can take your spot,”  I said.  

Henry joined me and we watched the rest of the movie (a highlight of hotel staying - tv in bed!).  As we all turned out the lights and tried to settle into sleep, I could feel Henry continue to move.  He couldn’t go for more than a minute without a twitch or small movement.  It was annoying but clearly unintentional.

“Henry,” I said, “take some deep breaths, settle down your body.”  I could hear some deep breaths but the movements continued.  I lay there worrying about him.  I know he can’t help it.  I know being in a car for a couple of days doesn’t help.  I know he's really annoying to those around him. I worry about his forever struggle with ADHD.  As he gets older it doesn’t get easier.  It just gets different.  We have good days and good phases, but my worry is constant.

“Come here,” I said.  He rolled towards me and I grabbed him in a tight hug.  His breathing slowed a bit and it seemed like the movements were lessening.  I kept him in the hug.

“Does this help?” I asked. 

“I’m not sure,” he said.  “But I do always like hugs.” 

So I kept hugging him and he finally settled and he fell asleep. 

A Day In The Car

 A day in car with some stops along the way....  

Voices outside the car:

“I’m at the dining hall but am happy to meet you outside my dorm.  I can you show you around the campus before I have class. Then you can email me any questions you have.”

“Yes, no problem to call ahead, we’ll get making your pizza and we’ll see you when you arrive in town. I'll have a table set up for the six of you.”

“This huge starbucks order is no trouble, I’ll get started on it now.”

“Welcome to the hotel, enjoy some bottled water while you get checked in.”

Voice inside the car:

“Henry, please chew with your mouth closed.”

“How much longer ‘til we’re there?”

"You're on my pillow!"

“Who took my charging cord?”

“Stop doing that Henry, it’s annoying.”

“Are we there yet?”

“Scoot over, you’re in my space!”

It's a pretty typical day one. I'm excited to spend more time outside the car today.