Tänan. Kohtumiseni.

I don't know what to say or write.
I went back to my very first post for this challenge.

"May-be I should join the Slice of Life Challenge? I do ask my students to be risk-takers. I do ask my students to write daily. I can do it. I know it sometimes takes me forever to write a paragraph in English, but may-be writing daily will make it easier. Do I dare? I am allowed to fail. Today's last lesson is worth sharing with others. It's all a learning experience," thoughts floated in my head during the train ride home.

I dared. I did it. I wrote every day. I learned. This whole experience was far beyond anything I imagined.
I am thankful to - Ruth and Stacey for hosting this challenge, Erin for inspiring me, this amazingly supportive community of writers for the kind comments, my dear husband for the dinners he cooked and the games he played with Mimm (6)

Ok. I still have to work on how to write a thank you speech for Oscars.

The short version of this post:

Tänan. Kohtumiseni.

Contributing to the happiness of the World

"Mom, I really need to use the computer," says Mimm (6) heading towards the computer, when her destination is supposed to be bed.
"No, no, no, no. We will go to bed. Especially if you want me to read a longer bed time story," is my initial response.
"But, mom, I need to write something really quickly, or I'll forget," is Mimm persistent.
That sounds too much like my words. Well, how long does it take for her to write? I can give her few minutes. We'll just read a shorter story.
"Fine. What do you need to write?"
"A pancake recipe."
"Why?"
"Because, what if you are not at home, and my sisters are not at home, then I would have to make pancakes all by myself. I don't know how to make pancakes. So I need a recipe. Will you help me?"
By now she has a word document open. We go through the list of things we usually use for pancakes, she types most words independently, I spell few of them. Then we print the recipe out and she attaches it to the refrigerator door.

We will be making pancakes today. We (all the girls of my house) have made pancakes almost every Wednesday since Mimm wrote that recipe more than two months ago. I do realize that pancakes are not exactly proper dinner, but seeing the raspberry jammy smiles gathering around the dinner table on Wednesdays, it is a right choice. Maybe if every child had a chance to eat pancakes on Wednesdays the World would be a happier place.

4 muna = 4 eggs
3 supilusika täit suhkurt = 3 spoonfuls of sugar
3 tasi pima=3 tassi piima=3 cups of milk
3 tasi jahu= 3 tassi jahu = 3 cups of flour
1 natu kene sola = natukene soola= little bit of salt
sega= mix
kum pan= kuum pann= hot pan
õli=oil
taiken=taigen= batter
küpseta valmimiseni= bake till ready

(we adjust the batter with one extra egg and more milk when necessary)

I need to clean up my brain

In the middle of the cluttered classroom, surrounded by the cleaning chaos S.(9) stood still. He lifted his chin and declared with determination: " I have cleaned my mess. Now I need to clean up my brain."

That's it!
I need to clean up my brain:

wipe off worries,
throw out doubts,
reuse compliments,
recycle creativity,
dust off sweet memories,
polish wishes,
fluff the confidence,
stack up the storage of inspiration,
arrange a bouquet of dreams,
let a draft of fresh thoughts in.

Flock dance

Looking up to the spring sky.......

Hey, white woolly flock, grazing on the bright blue meadow, do you ever think of your brothers and sisters who are still trapped inside? I think of them often. I used to pass them on my way home. All they seemed to do was chewing, chewing, chewing. Chewing in silence all day long. I believe that it was just a disguise. They watched the cars passing and as soon as the road was empty they started dancing and marching. How else would you explain the lines, circles, squares, and other formations that differed from day to day. Was it jig? Line dance? Square dance? Two step? You probably know because I saw you dancing along when I watched out of my car window. When my car reached the sheep on the meadow, all I saw was chewing, chewing, chewing. They must have enjoyed the hide-and seek with the drivers. I think that they are secretly dancing even now. Irish dance -what else - bodies tightly together, hiding the quick and precise movement of the feet.

Inspired by my Monday dance lessons and Shaun the Sheep

March 27, 2011

my first book spine poemNot quite burnt out, but crisp around the edges
Make it simpler
Word of mouth
Count me in
Friends, lovers, chocolate
Cookies
Foam on cappuccino
Wondrous words
Tipping point
The power of now
Wouldn't take nothing for my journey now

...except, well, may-be ....

Happy Birthday to me!

I am an ordinary person and that is OK

During the whole school staff day, when we discussed our common reading about creativity, and people kept saying that we are all creative and wonderful in many ways, I had a thought throbbing in my mind: "I am an ordinary person and that is OK."
I am an ordinary person who likes simple things and enjoys simple life. I like trying things I haven't tried before but I have no ambition for fame. I feel that I am like a child who has seen others playing a game and wants to join in. But I don't want to compete or have judges giving me points.
I have taken drawing and painting lessons. I enjoyed to see how from chalk lines or paint brushes something emerged. Not something you would put on your wall, but good enough to get a nod from my teacher.
I have taken dance lessons for years. I enjoy how the music rushes through my body and my husband holds me and we almost fly when we waltz. Not exactly like swans, but good enough to get a compliment from our teacher.
I have experimented with baking. I enjoy the process of searching for new recipes, collecting the ingredients, mixing the dough, waiting for the pastries or cookies to be ready and cool, and then eat them. Not something that would be on a cover of a food magazine, but delicious enough for the family to request to bake more.
I joined this writing challenge. I enjoy searching for ideas, choosing words, the little slice taking shape, pressing the "publish post" button. Not something that would be remembered in the history of world literature, but good enough to get some sweet positive comments.
I am an ordinary person and that is OK. There is one thing however, where I hope to make a difference, and that is education. I am passionate about teaching, and my experience in an international school has led me to believe that every child should have a positive experience at school. So I will be heading off to a conference today where I am part of a group that discusses how to make Estonian state education system more child centered.

she loves you

Eden had come to to the store to buy some lace for her daughter's new dress. She couldn't decide whether the hem of the dress should have dark or light pink lace. Then she noticed the little girl next to her.
It was obvious that the fabric store was not a place where the four? five? year old girl wanted to be. She looked tired. She was hot. She still had her woolen hat on, and the winter jacket was zipped tightly all the way to her chin. Her mom looked tired too. And nervous. Her flawless make-up couldn't cover the tenseness.
"I forgot to put the parking clock on the windshield. I'll go put it there quickly. You wait here," she ordered the daughter and headed toward the door.
The little girl followed. Mom turned around. The girl sopped.
"I told you to wait," mom scolded.
Mom moved. The girl followed. She almost ran, tears starting to roll down her cheeks, her face hot red, chin shivering. She caught her mom before she reached the door.
Frowning down at the little girl, mom's high pitched voice splatted: "Fine, I will not put the clock on, and we just have to pay for the parking ticket later. Why can't you just do what I say. Why do you do this?"
Eden couldn't stand it a moment longer. She walked to the mom, looked straight into her eyes, and said quietly: " She loves you. She just wants to be with you."

Purpose and perspective

"Mom, can you ask dad to bring hamburger meals for us?" Mimm (6) asked me.
"Mimm you know that it is not healthy and I do not like it," I replied
"But sometimes you buy it," she reminded me.
"Yes, sometimes, but not today. We will have mashed potatoes and minced meat sauce," I had to disappoint her.
"Tomorrow?" she was still hopeful.
"I don't think so."
She walked off. I went to the kitchen to cook. I heard Mimm sneaking in and then out in a flash. You know instantly that this behavior means something mischievous. I looked around and noticed a new post-it on my laptop. She had taken a six-year-old's writing to a new level. It was not a note from her to me, it was a to do list written from MY perspective. Translation of the meaning:
I must buy hamburgers to my family
Children's homework


Text in Estonian.
PEANOSTMA HESPURKERIT PERELE LASTE KOTUTÖ (Mimm 6.)
Ma pean ostma Hesburgerit perele. Laste kodutöö.

Mom, dad, let me show you....

T. (9) stands in front of the photos about Hinduism. His parents attentively listen to him speaking in Lithuanian about what he remembers about the different religions he learned during our Unit of Inquiry. I. (9) models and writes decimals. I do not understand what he says to his mom in Greek. His mom pats him on the back and smiles. A. (9) sits on a couch and reads out loud from her favorite book "The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane." Mom leans forward and strokes A.'s hair.
This is part of our student-led conferences. For an hour the parents will follow their child when he/she shows what he/she has learned and how much he/she has grown. The students have spent almost three weeks putting together their portfolios, choosing work, writing reflections, deciding what activities to demonstrate. Now it is their time to shine and for the parents to listen, notice and congratulate.
What does the teacher do during that time? I sit back and watch. I am ready to join the activities in case any of the children forget what to do, or I see them getting nervous, or parents start "testing" the child. It rarely happens. Most of the time I enjoy the picture - the self-derected learner taking charge of his/her own learning and achievements.

Ooey, gooey

"Ooey, gooey, sweet, and chewy," played a tune in my head when I unwrapped two marshmallow walnut chocolate chip cookies for dessert at school.
"Child labor?" inquired my friend from across the table.
Yep. Everyone in the building knows that the cookies I bring are always baked by my two teenage daughters. What can I do when a culinary inspiration hits them in the evening? Who am I to stop them from bringing joy and delight to the whole family? Aren't we supposed to support creation, experimentation, collaboration?
They have played with various flavors, ingredients, and techniques to make treats of trance . Crumbly, tender, chunky, sandy, crunchy, crisp, cakey - I have had to expand my cookie texture vocabulary. Even though the cookies do not always turn out Martha Stewart style perfect and photogenic, it doesn't matter. So far we have eaten all the cookies. Including the crumbs.
"Ooey, gooey, sweet, and chewy," the tune plays in my head even now. I have one cookie left.

The best advice ever

The yellow post-it note was the first thing I noticed when I got home. Written in a six-year-old's style with funny spelling and missing spaces between words the message was still clear: "If you want to know what happens to you in the future go straight."(translation from Estonian)
Curious to know what waited ahead I went to the living room.
Sitting on a floor she solemnly stared at a yellow ball on top of a glass jar in front of her.
I sat next to her.
"I am a fortune teller. I predict the future and give advice," she announced with a low and serious voice.
"What kind of advice do you give?" I wondered.
"I give good advice to everyone," she suddenly relaxed, her face lit up, and she looked staright into my eyes.
"When I get tired of giving advice to everyone, I will give them the best advice ever:
Think for yourself!"

Text in Estonian:
KUITETAHATETEATAMISTEIEKAJUHTUPTULEVIKUSMINKEOTSE (Mimm 6.)
Kui te tahate teada, mis teiega juhtub tulevikus, minge otse.

Mirror, miror on the wall

Who is that woman looking at me from the hallway mirror on the Sunday morning? Her hair is flat and lifeless; dark shadows surround the eyes; the forehead looks like a lined paper; lips are dry, cracked, and colorless. I don't want to believe that I am the middle aged woman. My shoulders and corners of my mouth are drawn an inch closer to the floor, and I sigh. When I was younger the mirrors were much better quality. They showed my body slimmer and skin smoother.

My hubby comes from the kitchen, gives a tight bear hug and a kiss on a cheek.
"Breakfast is ready," he announces.
"Kolme-kalli (three-hug)," Mimm (6) runs to us, and we lift her up. I get a kiss on my other cheek.
"I drew a picture of you," Mimm says when we get to the kitchen.

Forget the mirrors.

I am the fairest of all.

Right now

inspired by SouleMama

Right now I am.....

::appreciating the silence - the family and vacuum cleaner still sleeping, the kettle and toaster resting after the jobs well-done, the post-it notes and e-mails waiting till I am ready to listen to their instructions, and my inner Must-Monster having a day off.

:: watching the last snowsloth snoozing on the branches of a pine tree, immune to the prickly needles and pretending the winter will last forever. He lives in an illusion that the snowfall today shows winter's victory. The show of the snow creatures is almost over. Spring spirits are ready for their entrance cue.

::waiting patiently for the ideas to arrive. I sit back sipping my tea. The ideas slowly emerge. Some fleet, some flutter. They start taking shape, then go hiding again. If I wait long enough one fragile figure will come closer, land on my finger tips, look up at me, allow me to hold it, keep it, name it.

:: sieving words, looking for treasures. The diversity of their shapes, sizes, sounds, tastes, and colors can make me dizzy. The ordinary ones are boldly boasting, almost commanding to be chosen. The precious ones are timidly waiting to be picked - in my miniature memory word-bank, in the thick word forest of the dictionary, in the wondrous weavings of the world famous authors.

:: creating this slice.

::hoping that my writing brings some joy to you, my reader.

::wishing you an inspirational Saturday.

Nobody believes me

I was so ready for the whining choir singing it’s famous chorus “Do we have to?”

I was ready to explain why we have portfolios and how writing reflections is an important part of being an active and self-directed learner.

I was ready that the complaining would still continue leaving me wondering whether I had imagined myself speaking and hit the replay button instead.

None of it happened this year. All my fourth graders started writing their reflections on the first day, some of them chose writing reflections over reading during the independent study, and some even did reflections as homework.

Had they matured?

Did they actually understand the benefits of reflecting?

Did they take it as inevitable part of the school life?

Had the whole class been abducted by aliens and replaced with new creatures?

They were writing without a whisper of whimper. They were writing well.

Nobody believes me.

(above example is by a 9-year-old boy)

I want to be in the passenger seat

How convenient. She just sits, buckles up, grabs a book from her school bag, and reads the whole way home. While she is snug, carefree, oblivious to everything around her, I have to stay vigilant, steer the wheel, switch gears, put on the breaks, or accelerate. I sweat and bite my lips feeling threatened by the speedy arrogant cars around me. I want to be at the passenger seat! I am ready to pout and stamp my feet. Not a good idea when my feet are on the pedals. All I can do is to go with the flow.
I do get to be at the passenger seat when my husband drives. I can sit back, relax, and let go of the control.
The same in life. Usually I hold the wheel of my life, choose the direction and speed, decide and react. But I love it when my husband takes care of everything, allowing me to sit back, relax, and let go of the control.

I found him sitting on a windowsill all by himself

Curled tightly, knees almost under his chin, back arched, forehead pressed against the window S.(9) looked like a bean ready to sprout. What was he thinking? What was he doing? I went closer.
"Here is a little bug. Just one. I am observing him. I'll write about him." S explained.
Later he showed me his writing.

Bug
I found him sitting on the windowsill all by himself. I will keep him company.

Meeting Olive Kitteridge

I wasn't looking for a book. The pile of must-read-PD-books was mile high already, the list of I'd-love-to-read-that was long like a kite string. Yet when I passed the classroom and spotted the mellow-yellow cover of this book on the shelf I was drawn to it.
"You'll like it," she sounded convincing handing the book to me.
"Winner of the Pulitzer Prize" I noticed the golden sun of appraisal in the upper right corner.
Only later I discovered another barely invisible circle stamped by a coffee cup. The inseparable friendship ring of a book, a coffee cup, and a woman was the greatest promise of all.

Cha-cha challenge

Cha-cha-cha, two-three, cha-cha-cha, two-three - the music plays, and we are ready to dance. Almost every Monday for seven years, my husband and I pack our dance shoes and go to a lesson. We have come a long way. We can recognize the music for waltz, Vienna waltz, tango, quickstep, slow fox, cha-cha, samba, jive, and Cuban rumba. Not do we only recognize them, but can start at the right beat, know all the basic steps, and can do some nifty figures. Our teacher thinks that we are capable of more, so she expects us to memorize strings of figures, and perform them with appropriate technique. As a couple we have come to a realization that we might be dancically challenged (my diagnosis). Especially with Latin dances.
We are tall stoic Estonians. We need time to think and process, so once locked in a frame we can rather safely glide over the dance floor in 1-2-3 of waltz. Speed up the music and suggest we move our hips, lift heels, stretch our toes, and straighten our knees after every step - I am sorry, we are both over 35 (not saying how much), you might have a better chance with bears.
I had you fooled when you thought that my husband leads me. I am a teacher, I like to be in lead. We gave a secret code to all the figures and I whispered them to his ear, giving him enough time to be prepared. He kept counting the rhythm. Now the dances are so complicated I can barely remember my steps. Left foot, right foot, turn, switch hands, go backward, turn right - oh no, turn left.
Fine. We'll do it again. And again. And again. Cha-cha-cha, two-three, cha-cha-cha, two-three.
Wow. We did it! The whole dance - without stopping. I guess my diagnosis was wrong.

Cocoon

Let me be.
I know what I should do.
I don't want to.
I choose not to.
Layers of laziness wrap around me.
I will get everything done.
Later.

A little ghost and an overgrown princess

My heart missed a beat. I didn't hear her coming, but must have sensed it. When I woke up she was standing next to my bed - a silent shadow with big wide eyes. Without saying a word she took my hand. With this gesture she asked for a protection from the nightly fears that creep in through the darkness. I followed my sweet little ghost to her room.

I was way too tired to be able to sit and wait for her to fall asleep again. I looked at the dream bed of a six year old girl, all pink with a canopy over it. Not exactly my size. Oh, well. The soft stuffed animals had to scoop over and I climbed in. With knees bent, all crooked, laying on one side, we cuddled up, Mimm's tangled hear tickling my nose. Guarded by a duck, a cat, a doll, and a sheep we both quickly fell asleep again. When I woke up I was aching all over. I don't think it had anything to do with my age or size, or the fact that the bed was too small, or that Mimm's knees and elbows had poked me. I must have passed the test. Surely there is a small round pea under the mattress. I am a princess!