the essentials for a trip

Early, too early for my body and mind, I have to leave home.


I knock on my daughter’s door and crack it a little. 
“Morning and good bye. I’ll go now. See you on Sunday,” I tell my daughter who barely opens one eye and peeks at me from under the blanket.
“”Mhmhmh,” comes a sleepy acknowledgement of my presence.
Long gone are the days when I woke her up to give a hug before I left to work. Now the teenager does not like her sleep interrupted in the morning. 

At this stage of her life she wishes me to be out of sight and quiet, especially quiet. In her ears i say wrong things, laugh too loud and sing completely out of tune, and probably tell her too often to wash her cup and pick up her sweaters that tend to roam around and sit on the sofas and chairs and beds in our home. She remembers my existence when she has to tell me everything that happened at school, mostly what was unfair, stupid or funny; wishes her hair braided in a fancier way; wants to have a sleepover with friends; or feels sick and needs me to sit next to her on her bed. She is willing to be seen with me when we go shopping, theatre, or cafe. In the mornings it's better to leave her alone

I close her door, walk to the clothes rack, and put on my black winter coat. I stand in the hallway with a handbag over my shoulder and a small suitcase next to me. My hubby stands with home keys and car keys in his hand, ready to open the door. 

“Do you have your ID?” hubby asks. 
“Yes.,” I nod.
“Money and a bank card?” the second question follows.
“Yes,” I nod again.
“Your boarding pass?” he asks the third question.
“Yes. Electronic one.” I nod again
"Then you have the essentials and we can go,” he picks up my suitcase.

My daughter, still half asleep, walks down the hallway and leans against the wall, "There's one more thing you always ask me before I go to a camp or a field trip. Are you taking a good mood with you?"

Yes, I have my ID, money, ticket, good mood, and her words that feel like a hug. The essentials needed for any trip. 

Smell the inspiration

Today was supposed to be a slow Saturday morning all alone at home. My hubby went to visit his parents, and my teenage daughter had stayed at her friend's place last night. The older daughters could not come home for this weekend.
I had planned to stay in PJs, have fried eggs and whole wheat bread for breakfast, write a slice and read other blogs. I had no plan of what to write, yet. I knew that waiting for an inspiration does not work. You need all your senses to find the inspiration.

As I was looking out of the window and wondering whether writing about a grey cat with puffed up fur crossing an icy street would have any point for writing, I received a message on a phone from my teenager:

coming home. on a train already. would you cook for me (She probably stayed up all night, no way she would have woken this early on Saturday)
What would you like? (Fried eggs and whole wheat bread not an option anymore)
don't know (Me neither)
Shall we go to cafe? (Perhaps someone else could do the cooking and dishes)
nah. not today (I cross off this option)
Croissant and mozzarella? (A safe go to option)
yeah. and some chocolate (Should I mention that chocolate is not considered breakfast?)
Sure. See you soon. (I need to get dressed and go to the store. The writing and reading will wait.)


Inspiration
looks like a fourteen-year-old tall and skinny girl, lively and not a bit tired, in an over-sized black sweater and super-tight blue jeans, nesting in an armchair
sounds like rapid, no-breaths, retelling of the past twenty-four hours of a teenager, including shopping in second-hand store and a sleepless sleepover, fried noodles and blue nail polish, and everything around and in between
tastes like croissant with mozzarella, tomatoes, basil and some olive oil, and a cup of peppermint tea
feels like a touch of soft spring morning sun through the living room window
smells like Milka Oreo chocolate

The distance of a whisper*

Inspired by: Two Hundred Fifty Things an Architect Should Know


Some things a mother of  a teenager daughter should know during the fall break:

1. The speed of words per minute when friends come over
2. What's for lunch
3. Who is the cutest guy in musically
4. Why teachers are evil
5. Which teachers are ok
6. The number of snapchat streaks
7. What's for snack
8. How many pages to read for history homework
9. Why sprint is better than mini-marathon
10. The shortness of the break
11. How not to open a closed door
12. The volume of voice in playing board games
13. The amount of laughter that can fill a room
14. The best colors of jackets
15. The worst colors of jackets
16. The best shoes
17. The worst shoes
18. Why pizza is better than vegetables
19. The importance of smiling
20. How to say "no" so it's accepted
21. The variable of "yes" in equations
22. The square meters of the apartment
23. The thickness of walls
24. How to be invisible
25. How to be available
26. How to curate your words
27. How to bite your tongue
28. Reasons for not saying anything
29. Ways to be non-judgmental
30. Which century you were born
31. Memory of your own teenage years
32. The history of friendship
33. The parent do-s and do not-s
34. The need for cash 
35. The need for ice-cream
36. The need for loud music
37. Where snacks are stacked
38. The amount of energy needed for charging phones
39. Who follows whom on Instagram
40. The basic of filters
41. The basic of hashtags
42. What's for dinner
43. How to fit three girls to have a sleepover in a small room
44. What's for midnight snack
45. The rule of staying up very late
46. What it feels to be 13 or 14 and stay in PJs in the morning
47. And  wrap yourself in a blanket and sit on a kitchen floor
48. To drink cocoa and eat chicken nuggets for breakfast
49. The power of breath
50. The distance of a whisper*

*borrowed directly from the mentor text

end of the year questions

A year ago, when Mimm turned 10, I asked her questions.
Today she turned 11. I asked her a different set of questions. She said that last year'ss questions were better. She claimed that she had no memory of what happened this year. Climbing around on the kitchen chairs, jumping to the floor, squeezing next to me on the sofa, bouncing her finger on my tummy sure helped to refresh her memory. I think it is going to be interesting to look back at the answers next year.

Inspired by Katie Clemons

Mimm's answers

1. What are five words that describe the past year?

dance, singing, TV, friends, desserts

2. What’s something that made you smile last year?

A card my sister drew to me, melting snow in spring, swinging on a big swing, when I am thirsty and get to drink a large glass of water, when parents get home after work, when sisters come home for the weekend

3. What’s something that made you ache last year?

people stepping on my heels and not apologizing

4. What are five moments with others that you really loved last year?

when I made a cardboard house in the living room with my friend
spending a day at the Riga Zoo and Sigulda Adventure Park with the family
going to the movies with my sisters
being in the corn labyrinth with my class
taking a train to the city on my dad's birthday and eating a cake for breakfast

5. What mistake did you make last year? What did you learn?

I didn't let a photographer take pictures of me in a dance camp. I learned that when a professional photographer takes pictures I should let her take a picture of me

6. What’s a great gift you gave to someone in need last year?

Taking pasta, flour, sugar and chocolate for holiday charity

7. What do you hope to learn or accomplish in the coming year?

I wish to learn to do a full split and circle from handstand to bridge

8. What are your three wishes for the new year?

I wish to have a pet, a new kitchen and to reorganize my room


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Since Mimm was willing to answer the questions, I thought it would be fair to answer myself too.
My answers

1. What are five words that describe the past year?

Bigger picture - seeing various schools in Estonia and Holland, reading and discussing educational issues broadened my understanding of what is possible

Awesome people - lucky to meet super teachers, inspirational school leaders, thoughtful and caring young people ready to start a new school

Risk-taking - still can't believe I said yes to public speaking experiences

Growth - glad that I am still learning as a professional and growing as a person

Calm 

2. What’s something that made me smile last year?

tulips in Amsterdam,  van Gogh's museum, students learning, Mimm dancing, middle one's graduation, giraffes, peaceful marsh lakes, Mom's 70th birthday, hours of reading, photos I took,  friends and cakes, 

3. What’s something that made me ache last year?

a young woman's death, a little boy's death, a young woman's heart attack

visiting Anne Franke's museum, the hate talk on refugees issue

4. What are five moments with others that I really loved last year?

a spring day bike ride in Holland

a summer day with a family at the Riga Zoo

a summer evening concert with my hubby in an old manor house

an impromptu family photo shoot at the countryside

a fall morning including a dance performance, cafe and bookstore with my daughters

5. What mistake did I make last year? What did I learn?

Not pushing for/demanding help for a student who needed it. I think we could have supported him much more last school year. I have learned that I need to keep asking for help, there is always a solution, sometimes it just takes more time.

6. What’s a great gift I gave to someone in need last year?

I think that saying yes and spending summer days helping a group of people starting a new school was a gift both ways. Also agreeing to give a workshop to university students was my gift of time where I got a gift of energy and learning in return. 

7. What do I hope to learn or accomplish in the coming year?

I wish to become a better leader to nudge them grow and take risks, to get us working effectively together to improve teaching/learning and support all students, to create a culture of thinking and have playful, creative, productive planned and unplanned meetings, reach out beyond our school walls and country borders, at the same time staying calm, balanced and joyful.

8. What are my three wishes for the new year?

I wish: 

health, ever so precious, for everyone 

to spend rich and warm time (moments, hours, days) with the family

opportunities to learn, play and laugh

morning is smarter than an evening

Almost at sleep, but not quite, I can feel how Mimm's body lands next to me with a thump. We already have had our good night hugs and kisses. She should be in her bed. She's not. I can hear her tossing next to me. I open my eyes to see her digging her head under a pillow. It's clear she has made sure to wake me up.
"What is is?" I ask fighting my fatigue.
"I feel sorry for myself," her muffled voice barely reaches me.
"What?" I am confused, "You just had the most wonderful day playing with your friends and you feel sorry for yourself?"
"Yes," arrives a reply without any further explanation.
"Why?" I probe.
"I don't want to get old," Mimm's head emerges, hair hair all messed up, "I am going to be 11 soon. I don't want to grow old and stop being a child."
How do you respond to something like this late in the evening when your brain has slowed and your body yearns rest? What do you say to a child when she feels sorry for herself because she doesn't want to get older? You know you can't ignore it but you have no energy or wit to find a solution.
Morning is smarter than an evening - I remember an old proverb.
"Mimm, is it possible that we have this conversation in the morning? You can feel sorry for yourself and I listen to you at 9:30, but could you right now think about the wonderful day you had and go to sleep?" I suggest.
"Ok," she sighs, gives me a hug, slides her feet off the bed and shuffles to her bedroom.

The next morning after the breakfast, while Mimm combs her hair, I sit next to her.
"You were feeling sorry for yourself last night. Shall we talk about it now?" I bring up the subject.
"Not now, maybe later. I called to my friends, we are getting together in a park," Mimm turns her head and flashes a smile.
Life sure seems brighter in the morning.

I don't know when this topic will pop up again. I am still not sure what words would be the best to say. Thinking about it.

I sincerely hope that Mimm will take the most out of her childhood - playing, imagining and dreaming.

Turning 10. Happy Birthday, Mimm!

In March I saw a blog post where a mom interviewed her daughter who turned ten. I loved the idea.
Today Mimm turned ten and I asked her questions.


Favorite authors
Piret Raud, Kristiina Kass, Kate DiCamillo, Roal Dahl

Favorite singers
Katy Perry, Adam Lambert, Getter Jaani

Favorite place
Home, living room and kitchen

Favorite activities
playing with friends, making jokes, drawing, WII, playing board games, playing with Lego

What would your perfect day look like?
I would play all day long with my friends, we would draw, walk around in the city, cook, and have a sleepover.

Share a day when you were very happy
This summer when I spent a day at the beach and then I was out late playing with my friends.

Your best quality?
I make my friends laugh.

What do you value in your friends?
They care about me.

What is your greatest achievement?
Learning to do a cartwheel.

Who is your hero in real life?
My big sister. She has danced for twelve years, and still doesn't plan to quit but wants to go forward.

What makes you happy?
when my big sister comes home
pancakes
art lessons at school
when my teacher teaches new games
dad tickling me so I can't stop laughing
going out to eat with my family
when my cousin comes to visit
Christmas at grandma's
playing board games with my family

How did you become so awesome?
Genes

Some wisdom of life?
You shouldn't always say what you think

Mirjam (Mimm)

10 years old

Celebrate this week

Celebrating together with Ruth and many others.

I have been writing comments for report cards today. I have discovered this year at school that I probably do more than necessary. (And yet, it still feels as if I am not doing enough.) It's very likely I shouldn't spend so many hours on writing reports and making them so long and detailed. But no one has recently commented on how much is needed, so I go with my gut feeling and keep writing. To be honest, our school hasn't surveyed the parents for years, to find out how they feel about the reports and whether they find them informative and useful. Many of the things I write about, the parents know already because I speak to them regularly and they have seen the student work. However, if I sit down to write reports I can't write general nothing-saying short blurbs. I wish the comments to be specific, reflecting each child's attitudes, behavior, habit, skills, knowledge and growth with some advice on how to support the child with achieving her/his goals. I have discovered that writing reports is a writing genre that I have certainly become much more skillful than years ago. 

I had set a goal to get my reports finished today. I didn't achieve the goal. I still have literacy comments to write.

Nevertheless, I decided to take a break and celebrate with you. Of many things I pick just two. 

First, I celebrate that I have been writing all day without procrastinating. (I only took few snack, stretch and bathroom breaks, and checked my Twitter feed and email only once.) I will get the reports done tomorrow. My family has been most understanding, escaping home, letting me do my work. They know that I write better during a long intensive period of time rather in small chunks. 

Second, I celebrate something exciting from this week. Mimm was part of a community musical "Snow White and Seven Dwarfs." She was one of the seven dwarfs. They had six performances over two days. It was a big show with performers of different ages, many groups of dancers, full costumes and top notch light and sound technology. 

Mimm was very nervous when she was offered this role. She practiced a lot. She was marvelous on the stage. 

Acting with expression and clear voice.

The performance didn't take place just on the stage. The other spaces were in use also. Since Mimm passed us so close, my sis was able to take this pic.

The seven dwarfs after the show.

You can imagine what a fun it was to see the musical in the middle of a busy week. The end of the year to-do-lists loose their urgency when something thrilling like this shows up. So good for the soul.

I hope that you all have a chance to get what you need done and at the same time enjoy some emotionally fulfilling breaks from the busy and demanding.

Week in the life: Monday

If you are not here for the first time, then you certainly know what Slice of Life is. Many wonderful people gather to share bits and pieces, the small and the grand of their life.

Have you heard of Ali Edward's Week in the Life project? I had not heard of it ever before until Stacey shared a link to Our Days are Built with Stories.

Not that I need any challenges or projects right now, but you know, sometimes you simply want to try something. I'd like to try this. Or at least so I thought when I first read about the idea. It would be interesting to use my camera more and in addition to Tuesday and Saturday blog posts to capture a week of my life. I am not officially joining a community or a gallery, no linking, no scrapbook art, but simply experimenting with pics and words.

It all started well. I had my camera with me yesterday.
I kind of forgot to take pictures. I took two during a break at school, I asked my middle one to take a picture on our way home, and took a few more at home.
Today I had my camera but didn't take any pictures until I got home.

Maybe that's my story. My school days are so busy that I simply forget to take pictures. Or maybe I am just not intentional enough with photographing yet. (I love the "yet" - it promises change if I want to.)

Here is my story of Monday with pics and words:

I got up at 5:45 and was at school at 7:30. This was before the students arrived. It was the first day back from the fall break.

I am a teacher through and through. I live and breathe as a teacher. I love being a teacher. I don't mind a  bit of mess in class when it shows that the kids are so engaged in learning that  a break comes as a surprise.

When the kids leave, I have (like every teacher) many things to do, but before I do anything I sit down with a cup of water or a cup of tea and breathe. The moment to breathe helps to restore energy and sort thoughts.
(I don't get everything done at school. To be honest I never get everything I wish done - it is simply not possible - the expectations, new things I have learned, and my own dreams are bigger than time ever permits to accomplish. Quite often my creative juices for planning, reflecting, writing for a classroom blog, and flow for PD reading are best outside the school environment.)

Taking a picture and driving is a safety hazard. I am happy my middle daughter was with me yesterday.  She found it strange but didn't question much when I asked her to take a picture. It's a pity that the horses that we usually pass on our way home were not out.
I don't like driving but I have to. It takes about forty minutes for me to get home. Majority of the drive is outside the city. Gray, dark, and wet, depressingly sad is the view on an October afternoon. (I should do one Week in the Life in spring to capture the light green leaves and bright blue sky.) But it is even worse - pitch dark and slippery - in the middle of the winter.
When you are stuck with a situation you don't like, you have to look for something positive. A drive home gives time to compose blog posts and plan dinner.

 The carpet rolled off the floor, school things scattered all over, music blaring - my daughter and her friend were practicing a dance for a class party. The life in the living room makes my daughter happy. She loves company. After a long day at school I prefer silence. When I have to choose between my comfort and a happy child dancing the last one always wins. The children grow toooo fast.

Two pairs of worn dance shoes get excited to get out each Monday. Even though it's cold outside and comfy warm at home and we know our bodies will ache and muscles will be sore, my husband and I pack our shoes and head to a ballroom dance lesson. Week after week, year after year.
We have no desire to compete with anyone nor to show off our skills, we don't even go out dancing other than occasional weddings or jubilees of relatives or friends, yet we keep returning to the lessons and our teacher is continuously happy to see us and optimistic enough to add new complicated steps and routines to our repertoire.
I have discovered that I can be impatient and get easily frustrated when our steps get mixed up, thoughts tangled and we have to stop in the middle of the dance. I have learned to tame my reactions and facial expressions. I know my appreciation should always overweigh my desire to master what is taught. As long as I remember this we smile more, laugh at our mistakes and enjoy dancing.
Being together is what matters the most. Yesterday we were awesome doing our new samba routine.

I was in bed by ten o'clock.

Why SOL matters

Read more slices at Two Writing Teachers

We start our writing workshop not on a carpet in a circle but at our desks. I stand in front of a white board. The students look at me expectantly.

“We have talked about different purposes of writing, about different types of writing writers do and about some different ways of getting started.  Today I would like to share one especial kind of writing. It’s called Slice of Life. Some people collect these little slices to look back at and remember them later. If in a diary people sometimes write ‘Today I did this. Today I went there’ then slice of life writing doesn’t capture everything that happened during a day but rather focuses on one moment and the feelings in detail. Sometimes it can be with a strong emotion as we read in “When Sophie Gets Angry” or sometimes it can be an ordinary moment. I will share on of my slices with you.”

I read one of my slices.

The students listen and look at me with quiet attention.

“I wrote this two years ago. If I hadn’t written it down, I would have forgotten. I am glad I did, because when I read it, it takes me straight back to this morning and I can still see Mimm’s hair, feel her warmth and hear her speaking. It was a very small moment from the morning, not even the whole morning before school. You heard how I included what was said, what I did, what Mimm did, and what I thought. You will have an opportunity to try your hand at writing a slice of life.”

The students don't have their journals yet, so I hand out papers with the bright orange SOL logo on them. 

We use some of what we know about getting started, jotting and sketching some ideas on the back of the paper, then sharing the ideas with each other. Then we rehearse the writing in our heads, walking around or lying down or closing eyes. When I see zombie walk and wind up rabbit twirling, I have to remind them to stay with their story.

When the kids sit down to write, they write and write.

I write too. I thought of writing about the cakes my students have brought to school for their birthdays, or about my first Zumba class, or about the Dot Day we celebrated from preschool to grade 5, or about scary black ravens we saw yesterday at a walk, or about Mimm loosing her apartment key and the hassle it caused. However, there is one slice, a moment I am not proud of, but one that I don't want to forget. It just begs to be written. Not so much for others to hear, but rather for me to remember. 

“Mom, I made you a bracelet,” Mimm (9) appeared at the kitchen door, stretching her hand out with a bracelet made of tiny neon rubber bands.

My mind, racing between reading assessment results, teacher evaluation’s upcoming lesson observation and formatting an invitation for a conference, took a shortcut and without much thinking I blurted, “Go give it to your friends. I am not going to wear it.”

I was eager to get back to my work. Mimm stood motionlessly and a frown shadowed her face.

“I made bracelets for my friends already.  This one is for you,” her hand stretched a bit further.

“But I really have nowhere to wear it. You just don’t know what to do with the bracelet so you want to give it to me,” I justified my refusal, thinking of all the times she had cleaned her room, found a piece of paper and not knowing what to do tried to give it as a present. While the words kept tumbling out I realized I had said all the wrong things and my reaction had clearly hurt Mimm’s feelings.

“I made this for you,” she repeated one more time, hand still stretched.

I took the bracelet and slipped it around my left wrist.

Mimm turned around and walked away.

The uneasy feeling of making a major mistake as a mom stayed with me for the rest of the evening.

Before going to bed Mimm looked at the bracelet. 

“When a daughter gives you a gift, you take it,” she reminded me with a quiet voice and solemn face.

I have my little moment captured. I am ready to listen to what the children are writing. I close my journal and walk over to the first student.

“What are you writing about?”

I wore the bracelet to school yesterday.  When Mimm saw me arriving from school with it, she looked surprised.

I wore the bracelet to school today. “I am so happy you are wearing my bracelet,” said Mimm with a smile.

A secret snapshot on a train

No-hurry Saturday - say "yes"

During the Slice of Life Story Challenge in March people are invited to write a slice every day for 31 days. You can read the slices at Two Writing Teachers.


No-hurry Saturday.
No plans.
Say "yes" day.
Mimm's favorite day
My favorite day.

We can do anything we want?
Yes.
Take a train to a city?
Yes.
Go to a cafe?
Yes.
Order anything we want?
Yes.

And we did. We took a train to Tallinn, read books on the hour long ride, walked on the cobblestone streets of the Old Town, entered a small cafe, admired the colorful display of sweets, ordered two slices of berry cakes and two cups of hot cocoa, spooned the fluffy foam from the drinks, savored each bite of the cakes, chatted about mundane and special, and laughed.

No-hurry Saturday.

No plans.

Say "yes" day.

Mimm's favorite day

My favorite day.

Waiting for a hot cocoa. Mimm looked so small in the armchair.

When you get an idea, you have to write it down

Looking for inspiration? Read slices at Two Writing Teachers.


On the border of a dreamland I drift toward rest, yet still hear the reality around me. TV keeps my hubby and middle one entertained. But what is Mimm (9) up to? Why do I hear her bare feet running from her room to the living room to her room to kitchen to her room? The tug-of-war between the lulling warmth of my bed and why-isn't-Mimm-sleeping-curiosity keep me from sleeping. But I am too tired to open my eyes and ask.
"Mom, I have a plan," Mimm says, and lands next to me, startling me and scaring sleep away.
Mimm is a girl of big plans. She always shares her plans with me. It doesn't matter that right now we are both supposed to be sleeping.
"I decided that I want to be a singer, not now, but when I grow up, but I will write some songs down already now, so when I need them later, I have ideas," she spills out her plan in one breath.
"Mhhmmh," I nod, "It's a great idea. Please, go back to bed now."
"No, no. I have to write one song down right now, before I forget it," she shows me her red journal and  a short pencil. (Ha, that's why she was running around, looking for her journal and pencil. They are hardly ever where they should be.)
"Ok. Write it down, and then, please, please, go to sleep," I agree, for I know that the great sleep time ideas have a tendency to disappear.
She skips off, and before I start drifting to sleep again, I let my thoughts swirl around. Mimm hasn't used her red journal for a long time. We tried this summer keeping a journal, but when the school started, we didn't keep the habit. How come I spend so much time at school teaching children to write and how to live a life of a writer, yet I don't do the same with my child? How come I write, yet I haven't made enough effort to make this our common activity? We drew daily for two months, but then stopped doing it. Why?

In the morning I sneak into Mimm's room to give her a morning good-bye kiss. The journal is open on her desk.

Here is the translation (original is in Estonian) of her last night's writing:

If you don't know what is good and what is bad, 
you will find it out right now.
Noisy kids, grandpa, cool clothes and lip gloss, that's good
getting up early, boring movies, that's bad


Chorus:
It's easy to differentiate between good and bad,
because good is good and bad is bad,
the only ones who don't know what is good or bad
are rodents.

My mom-mind wonders how the rodents got into the picture and how come noisy kids are good.
My teacher-mind sorts through all the six traits of writing and sees teaching opportunities.

My slicer-mind springs to action, I kiss Mimm and ask, "May I, please, write about you?"

"What do you want to write?" she mumbles.

"Only good thing, only good things," I adjust her blanket.

"Ok," she says and returns to the dreamland.

A Candy Queen

During the Slice of Life Story Challenge in March people are invited to write a slice every day for 31 days. You can read the slices at Two Writing Teachers blog.



"Hi, mom!" I hear a cheerful greeting even before I am completely out of my car.
"Hi! What are you doing outside at this time?" I wonder about the surprise greeting from Mimm (9), hang my schoolbag over my shoulder, close the car door and lock the car.
"I knew you would come soon, so I decided to wait outside," she explains and walks toward me with a big smile. Her jacket almost open from the front, with a hat hanging from its pocket, takes sail from the wind, making her body look round. Her legs in jeans look extra thin and breakable. Most of her hair has escaped from her pony tail and is now flying in every direction. In her hand she holds a bare, higher than her, thin and crooked tree branch.
I know it's time for the usual 'how was your day' conversation, but seeing the branch makes me worried.
"You are not planning to take this inside," I say more as a command than a question.
"Yes, I am. I need it. I am a Candy Queen and I plan to decorate it," she announces without hesitation, believing she has room for negotiation.
"No. You already have collected too many branches at home. No more." I search my memory for explanation for all the other branches in our hallway. I think some were for her woodwork plan, some - I don't know.
"I can throw the others out," she offers a solution and as soon as I open the door, she leans the large branch against the wall, collects an armful of twigs and branches from the corner of the hallway, runs outside and dumps them under a spruce.
As a mother I struggle sometimes between what I want and allowing my child go with her creativity. I believe I have to have more than 'I don't want it' as a reason to say 'no' to Mimm's ideas.
"You create enough mess without that branch," I play my next card.
"I'll clean my room," Mimm says, takes off her boots and dashes to he room, with the jacket still on.
She must really want that branch.
After I change my clothes, I head to the kitchen to cook dinner. While I cook, Mimm stays in her room.
"Mom, you can come and look," Mimm calls.
Not only has she cleared her carpet, tidied her doll house, emptied the top of her chest of drawers, but she has moved her low white table under a window, with an office chair from the living room and a little green bench from the hallway next to it. A notebook is open in the middle of the table with a small blue glass bowl filled with candy wrappers next to it. A colorful sign 'A Candy Queen' is taped to the window.
Mimm beams.
The branch will stay.
"What exactly does the Candy Queen do?" I wonder.
"People can sign up for an appointment when they have a problem. Then they will come to me and speak. I will listen and write down their problem. then I will think, find a solution, write it down and call them." She has a plan.
"But why Candy Queen?" I ask.
"Because the Candy Queen is always happy and I want others to be happy," says Mimm, "I can help you too."
"I have a problem that my child has left her jacket on her bed. What should I do?" I play along.
"You have to sign up first."

This time I choose to say nothing and look at her instead.
It works.

Now I have to wait to see what the Candy Queen plans to do with the branch.

a morning good-bye kiss

Reading Michelle's slice in the morning inspired me.

I am all set to go to school. My snack and school bag are waiting on the hallway bench, I have washed my teacup and little red teapot, there is only one more thing to do before heading off to work.

The goodbye kiss to Mimm.

Last year she asked me to wake her up before I left. This was almost an hour before she really needed to get up. A hug, and a kiss, and waving through the window became part of our morning ritual. I would go to her room, slowly pull the blanket away, gently shake her shoulder, tickle her sides, she would squirm and wiggle, but eventually throw her hands around me. I would carry her to the hallway, we would kiss and hug, she would sprint to the living room window to make sure to see me one more time.

Slowly things changed.

First we stopped waving at the window.

Then she woke up but stayed in her bed.

This fall she started to cherish her morning sleep and asked only for a kiss.

She had become too big for her bed, and we had to extend it, and rearrange her whole room. Now her bed hides in a corner behind a cupboard.  

It's hard to see where Mimm is under the mound of the blanket. I tap around the bed lightly to be sure I don't squish her with my knees as I climb in the bed, to reach her to give her a good-bye kiss.

"Have a wonderful day. Be good." I slide my hand over her silky hair and plant a kiss on her warm cheek.

She only mumbles and pulls the blanket tighter.

One day she is going to ask me to stop kissing her in the morning.

I hope that it won't happen yet.

A Book Exhibition

Share a slice at Two Writing Teachers.

How can you choose just three favorite books when you like so many?

Any reader would understand the question and worry my nine-year-old was facing with this school assignment.
To take more was not a solution, because with twenty-four kids in class, the number of books was big already.
My daughter decided to take the best three she had read lately, having one from her favorite author, one that she got as a present, and one non-fiction.
Unfortunately, Friday was the kind of a day, where a schedule got mixed up and the book sharing didn't happen.
Any parent of a reader can understand the disappointment that my nine-year-old carried home.

Solution: We decided to host our home Book Exhibition.

Everyone collected their favorites.
This was the best part of the process. The older girls got carried back to their childhood. They chose a mixture of the past and the present. Mimm discovered some books that she hadn't read yet. I felt joy to see my reading family and glimpse of our reading lives.
We decided to that we could choose only one from our favorite authors and series. (Except Mimm who chose three books from her favorite Estonian author)
The older sisters discovered that they had given out some of their favorites to their cousin and friends, some of the books they had read online and some of the books they had borrowed from the library. After starting to set the books on the tables, we realized that we had more books than display space, so my husband and I just returned our books to the shelves.
Mimm spent time arranging and rearranging the books until she felt happy.

Here is the small "Favorite Books" Exhibition we set up on Friday evening. If Mimm could have she would have probably invited the whole class and neighborhood. We decided that the display will be up for at least a week so Mimm's friends can come and visit.

You are welcome to see our exhibition in pics.

Mimm's favorite books

A bedtime story

Write. It's good for you. Write a Slice of Life and share at Two Writing Teachers.


As soon as my head rests on the pillow, I am tempted to close my eyes and fly to the dreamland. Not yet.  One more thing to do before the night rest.
"Mimm, are you ready?" I call out.
"Wait a minute, I forgot to brush my teeth," she peeks into the bedroom and disappears.
Can I keep my eyes open?
"Come quickly. I can't keep my eyes open. I'm afraid I'll fall asleep before we get to read," I tell the truth.
"Wait, wait, wait. I'll be there in a second," she uses the time vocabulary loosely.

I can't remember my mom reading to me. I know she did it when I was little.
I stopped reading to my first two daughters as soon as they learned to read, already before they started school. I was young and considered bedtime story as something parents did because it was recommended as good practice.
Bedtime story is different with Mimm.
Mimm can read. She likes to read. She has a pile of books next to her bed that she reads before falling asleep. Yet, I still read to her on most nights, even though she is more than nine years old.

"I hope you are on your way," I send out one more call.

A second, a minute, five minutes later, after brushing her teeth, remembering to pack her math journal, returning the flashlight to the kitchen, she climbs to bed next to me. 

Side to side under warm covers we are ready for a bedtime story.

Mimm opens Because of Winn Dixie and starts reading to me. 

I read to her on most nights, but sometimes I let her read to me. It's not about vocabulary development or checking comprehension. The days are busy. Mimm is growing more and more independent. She doesn't need or want me as much as when she was younger. Bedtime story creates a time cloud where we are ageless, we are close and go on adventures and thought travels together. 

A Birthday Gift

Last Thursday:
"70, 75, 80, 85, 90, 95, 100, 110, 115, 117,118, 119, 120, 121. Mom, I have 121 euros. That is a lot of money," Mimm (9) looks at me with big eyes and a broad smile. A little bunny purse sits empty on the living room floor in front of Mimm, while Mimm waves the paper bills in one hand and holds coins tightly in the other.
Depends on what you need it for is my first thought, but realizing this is a lot of money for her, I nod in agreement.
"So now we can go bowling. All of us. This weekend," Mimm announces. For three years Mimm has been collecting money she has received from relatives as a birthday gift. This is how she has decided to use it. No Monster High Dolls, or shiny new clothes, or sweets or CD-s. No, she wishes to spend her birthday money on bowling with the family.
Only for a split second I wish to talk her out of it. I want to say that she could use this money without guilt on things that we wouldn't buy, that we would pay for the bowling. But it's only for a split second that I think that. Her choice is wonderful and I allow her to spend her money on what she values.
"This is an excellent idea," I smile.
 "Can everyone come?"Mimm asks me.
"I can, dad can, but I don't know about others," I reply.
"I'll find out," she stuffs the money back in the purse, jumps up and runs to her older sister's room.
She returns with a yes. This is followed with a phone call to her oldest sister, and then to her aunt and cousin.
"Great! This weekend we will go bowling," she beams with excitement.

Last Saturday
Kids (9, 12, 17, 19) on one lane and adults (35, 41, 44) on the lane next to them cheered to each other no matter the technique or result.  We tried to remember when was the last time we went bowling as a family. Probably more than a year ago.  The scores were not important. We were not competing. We were having fun. What an amazing gift!

Socks, the importance of asking right questions, and OLW

I tucked a pair of socks into my jacket's pocket and headed out into the depressing grayness and slushy rain. How on earth was it possible to loose a sock after a PE lesson? It probably joined all the other seven lonely socks we had collected from our sock drawers at home. How many other mothers recently received a phone call from their child asking to bring a pair of socks to school? Did they all go when they could? I could, so I did. I had a day off and the school was close. The sight of Mimm with her one sock on and bare toes peeking out from her other sandal made me chuckle. I thanked the teacher for allowing Mimm call me and headed back home.
The rain kept pouring as if trying to make sure the world was a dark, sad, hopeless place to live in and should have been filled with self-doubt and moaning. Nice try. I wasn't impressed with the rain's performance. My mind was still occupied with the search for One Little Word. I had accepted that I would go without a word this year, but then I read Tara's post, saw my name, and it pulled me back into the game. I am not the kind of person who would let rain or a lack of a word get me sad. I am not the kind of person...
Right there, half-way home from a sock mission, jumping over a puddle, rain dripping from a tip of my nose, I realized where I had gone wrong in my search. I had asked myself the wrong question.  "What do I want to do?" or "What do I need?" were not the right questions for this year. My quest should have been for a word that would help me to remember "What kind of a person am I striving to be?" in different situations.
Suddenly it made sense why "strawberry" had crossed my mind. My word didn't have to be noble, inspirational and make sense to others. My word had to be a symbol that made sense to me.

"Strawberry" is perfect.

Strawberry
I wish to:
be healthy
be sweet and kind (to others and to myself)
be calm - thinking of best summer memories
be varied - find myself with a friend (chocolate), in a group (salad), blend in (jam), or be just by myself
be bold red - not to hide, but rather share and be visible
be rounded - (I am not speaking of my body shape) - be balanced, learn and be open to different topics and possibilities
be playful, whimsical - keeping my spark from last year, finding the child in me
be someone who would make people smile and laugh and feel good

So here is my One Little Word for 2014

Strawberry

Strawberry

OWL 2014

Dreams and wishes

"What color should I choose?" Thinking out loud I rolled the color pencils on a table.

Curious, like any eight-year-old, Mimm peeked over my shoulder, "What are you doing?"

"Well, I asked my students in class to create paper doors, and behind the doors to write some wishes and dreams for the new school year. You see, we had read this poem "On the other side of the door" and I thought this activity would be a connection with the poem, and at the same time it would help me to learn more about my students. I thought of making one too." I explained probably more than she wanted to know.

"Your door is really cool. I like the tree. Can I make one too? Why do you have the I-Pad next to you?" 

I suspect she actually had come to take the I-Pad, but at that point it didn't matter. She was ready for some art.

"Of course you can make one, or two, if you wish to. I used this site Pinterest for inspiration. I got the idea for the tree from there. You know you can make anything you want on the door. Do you want to draw next to me?" I am ready to make space.

"No thanks. See you later."

 It took her two evenings to get her door card finished. It wasn't easy to fit it in between school, friends, TV, eating, playing, and I-Pad, She had used my card as her inspiration, but I had to admit I liked her drawing better. 

She says that she will write her wishes and dreams later. I hope that she will. 

I finished mine.

I hope:

that everyone feels included and valued in my class

that students will support and encourage each other

that boys and girls in my class will learn more than I expect

that students will enjoy classes and learning

that boys and girls will demonstrate their learning cearly, thoroughly and creatively

I dream:

to go to another Literacy Conference

to have time to relax and dream

I wish:

to create bold and imaginative art with my students

to write together with children

to laugh and smile and cheer a lot

to read many books

to get enough sleep

When I later read my dreams, hopes, and wishes, I wasn't sure whether  I knew the difference between the three. I wondered whether my writing was honestly for this year or was it an automatic response. I wasn't sure whether I had given enough thought to this writing. Yet I wasn't sure how or what to change either. I wondered whether everything was big and bold enough, or had I picked safe choices for this group of kids and myself, hoping for many things to come true. 

Was I afraid to dream? Or was I afraid to voice my bigger dreams? Sometimes I think that big dreams should be kept secret, because it helps to keep them safe and grow stronger. 

my door

my dreams, hopes and wishes

Mimm's door

Mimm's card inside so far