Now what?

Now what?

Mary stared at her computer screen. How is it possible that she had managed to write every single day for a month, but couldn't think of a topic for one afternoon? 

Like a moth to a flame - that's what Alan had written in his reflection. Insane like jumping into a frozen lake - that's what Ruth compared the challenge to. Mary agreed. The whole experience had been crazy. Finding time to write and comment every day, e v e r y day, during a very busy month was not reasonable. Who in their right mind would add something like that to their plate? But she didn't skip a day. The satisfaction of figuring out what to write, the tingle before  hitting "publish", the joy of reading comments - all of it was so worth it. It may have been that it was the writing that actually helped her to stay sane. She was forced to look at her day and make a choice of how to present herself to the world. She didn't want to be seen as a tired, overworked, complaining, middle aged woman, what she quite often felt. She picked and shared her sparks.  Most of the time she just wrote for herself and for the sake of writing. Looking back at the slices she realized that the majority of the slices were about her. She had used only few of the ideas from her 100 topics to write about. By the end of the month she still hadn't any deeper understanding of herself, or a clear focus what her blog was about. Like herself, and her life, the blog remained a mixture of themes, actions, thoughts, and feelings. She had stopped worrying. It simply felt good to be in the company of wonderful people. Many of them equally insane. Some with clearer focus on their vision and mission.
Mary kept staring at the computer screen. Who in their right mind writes about oneself in the third person? Too late to change anything.  "Publish" 

Thank you.

Thank you, 

my friends,

for 

trusting me,

telling stories,

sharing thoughts,

opening your hearts,

spreading inspiration,

nudging me forward,

noticing,

listening,

forgiving,

lifting me up,

understanding,

laughing with me,

celebrating together,

giving the feeling of belonging,

allowing me to be me.

A gift from a Japanese parent. 

book spine poem feat. Memory

The SOLSC challenge wouldn't be complete without a book spine poem. It was on my list. I had a plan to spend time in our school library, choosing the just right books. I forgot. Only two days left, I searched for some books on the book shelves at home. Most of them are in Estonian. Most books in English are PD books. The books that had been in the poems last year and the year before, said they were not interested. Fortunately my daughters allowed to borrow some of their books. I piled different books in different order. Something was missing. I invited a guest performer - Memory game. This is my poem today. As with any writing, on a different day, the words would line up in a different order to deliver another message. 

Ink Heart

Quiet

Divergent

Memory

Fragile Eternity

Never Let Me Go

book spine poem 2011
book stacks and book spine poem 2012

to my future self

At some point in my life I decided that I would not give advice to other people. The only bit I do share is, that young moms should sleep whenever they can, and when you are sad, keep looking at what is positive. I do sometimes share how I have chosen to act or react in different situations.

The following is not intended as an advice column for public, more like a reminder to myself in case I have a tough school year ahead.

Dear Future Me,

When you are having a tough school year, read this advice, and get strength from the knowledge of how you survived this year. Reading this may help you to stay sane.

 Accept your fate

If you approach a school year with knowledge that you will have grade 3 and then, a week before the school starts, you find out that you will have a combined class of 3 and 4 instead, try not to panic. Don’t spend your time thinking how unfair it is that others have classes half the size of yours or even smaller. Also don’t build your hopes and dreams on maybe getting an assistant. A maybe-promise is a mirage.

When you have come to grips with the size of the class (what in numbers is still smaller than in many other schools), be ready to get some more students (at least three) during a year. 

The next step is to start accepting the chemistry, diversity, and needs of your students – only three girls, half of the class English Language Learners, three students need weekly counseling sessions, two are diagnosed ADHD, two go to learning support services because of dyslexia, one skipped a grade because of mistaken placement the previous year, one skipped a class because she is gifted, one needs a shadow assistant (but you can’t use her as your assistant). Be ready that, even when individually all the students are lovely, then their personalities may clash, or the not so desirable behavior will amplify. It is very likely that the loud look-at-me types will take the center of stage. You know that you can’t pick students whom you get.

In addition to the increased class size, you have to accept the increase in teaching load, less planning time, more paperwork.

I can assure you there is no plot against you, the planets are on their normal orbit and don’t determine your destiny, nor is there a grand plan from the universe to teach you another lesson. The situation is what it is. Live with it.

 Forgive

Forgive your boss and school board for combining the classes. Their intention was to save money.  Also, forgive the promise for an assistant. Forgive your boss when she keeps making surprise decisions. This is her first year, and the school is in a whirlwind of change.

Forgive your fellow teachers for having small classes (even if it is only 6 students). You don’t know what struggles they have had or will have.  Forgive your colleagues, who may judge you, complain about the boys in your class, boast how their discipline methods are better than yours. May-be they are still learning how to be a teacher and a kind person.

Forgive the parents in advance for coming (you can count on this) and telling you what they think would be the best way to teach. They may not have any knowledge of what being a teacher means, and they certainly have their child’s best interest in mind.

Most of all forgive yourself.  You will never get everything done.  You will discover that you can’t reach the same high quality in every area of teaching as you could have in a smaller class.  There is a chance that you won’t have success with reaching every student, changing all attitudes to positive, help each student reach the standards. Remember that you are teaching 8-10 year olds. They still have many years of school ahead. Remember that all the children have parents, so their behavior is not a reflection of you only. You will find that it’s hard to be the positive and smiling and enthusiastic teacher you wish to be.  Just try to be the best you can be. This will be enough.

Change

Even with 20 years of experience and a wealth of knowledge, you have to be ready to change.  You may like to spend most of the time in class on learning, but with a new class, you may have to spend time on morning and closing circle to build the community.  So far you may have been successful with giving freedom to students to choose where they read and write.  Now you may have to start implementing assigned seats and rotating couch and pillow spots. If you have been a strong advocate for building students’ intrinsic motivation, you may be ready to switch to some form of behavior management and reward plan.

The biggest change you may have to take is to let go of some things you do. If for 5 years you have managed to be a homeroom teacher and a PYP (primary years programme) coordinator, you may find that you simply don’t have the time to do both.  No matter how much you love the leadership role, give it up for the sake of your health. Letting your boss know about your decision in March and knowing that in June you will no longer have that responsibility, lifts a load from your shoulders. This may be very hard and sad change, but necessary.

You may also decide drastically change your hair color from light to dark brown.  If you don’t like it, you can, after few months, change back to your regular highlights.

Take care of your health

When you are overwhelmed and stressed you have to be especially good at taking care of your health.

Go to bed early, and make sure you get enough sleep.

Laugh often, and don’t be afraid to cry when you need to.

Eat as healthy as you can, but don’t worry too much if your diet doesn’t consist of only healthy food.  Pleasure food is useful for mental health.

Surround yourself with positive people, who listen and care about you - your loving family, colleagues who are passionate and have a good sense of humor, kind writing community, and friends who forgive, if you don’t have time for them.

Find inspiration around you – go to nature; read books, articles, and blogs; visit pinterest; participate in workshops; and listen to stories people share with you.

Set some positive routines for each day – start each day fresh and smile to people in the morning, drink a cup of tea during a break, listen to music on the car radio on your way home, eat dinner together with your family, call to your sister daily, read a bedtime story to your daughter.

Sprinkle something spirit lifting throughout the week –dancing lessons on Monday, slicing on Tuesday, bubble bathing on Wednesday, watching Castle on Thursday, eating pizza on Friday, playing board games on Saturday, making pancakes on Sunday.

Make sure that every month you will find time for going out – movie, theatre, concert, outing with colleagues, holiday and birthday celebrations with relatives.

You know that you could fill every second of a day with schoolwork, but that’s not what matters most. You matter. Your family matters.

Appreciate and celebrate

If you are honest with yourself, then you can see that your life is wonderful.

For example, this year:

There are so many amazing people you are connected to. You have a job that despite of its challenges, is your dream job, and you are good at it. You have managed to teach, lead, learn, and find time for your family. You have not allowed the negative feelings to take over and have brought laughter to others around you.

Your students have read and written more than they thought they were ready to.  A young substitute teacher survived in your class for two full days and is willing to come back. Most of the parents are at school every day and they genuinely smile and thank you when you share how their children are doing at school or what they have created.

You finished two-year literacy coach training. The fact that you were chosen to this cohort two years ago was amazing. The learning and growth you have gained is beyond anything that you imagined. You got to practice some of what you learned with your dear colleague and friend.

Your cholesterol level and blood pressure are at very good level.

Spring will arrive and summer will follow.

You have managed to stay sane.

Nobody knows what next year will bring. You have resilience. Don’t take life too seriously.

Love,

Terje

a theory

A little girl in red pajamas sits opposite from me and sighs so heavily that it can be heard through the walls.
"I think our bodies have changed," she reveals her newest theory.
"What do you mean?"
"Usually you are tired and can't do much in the evening. But now, I am tired and ready for bed, and you keep writing and writing and writing." (Guilty as charged)
"Sorry, let me just finish this piece." (I can't quit. SOL has spelled me.)
"Please, finish soon, and read me the bedtime story."
"I will." (A promise I intend to keep)

Advice to myself: write earlier or keep the writing short to get it done before it's time to go to bed.

:: right now ::

Right now I am:

:: listening to Mimm (8) commenting on everything she is writing in her journal. She has decided that she will collect her dreams and make them into a book.

:: realizing that I have provided her with a journal but not shared with her much of the writing process or writer's craft. I have given the gifts to my students but have kept them a secret from my daughter.

:: thinking of ways to guide her and make sure we have time to write together. I don't want to regret later for not doing it.

:: explaining to Mimm how is it possible to be a school teacher and not have a sharpener in my bag. I don't have a pencil case either. And sometimes I don't even have a pen.

:: waiting for a cheesecake to cool. My husband is spoiling me. This is the second time in five days that he has baked.

:: accepting that I will get older whether I like it or not. I don't like it. It is a bit  easier than last year when the 3 in the tens place turned into 4.

:: appreciating that there are so many wonderful people in my life.

:: wondering what it really means to awaken a creative spirit.  

:: puzzled how the month went by so fast.


right now May 2012
right now March 2011

a secret book of dance teachers

"It's cold."
"Very cold and snowing."
"I'm tired."
"I'm very sleepy."
"I have work to do."
"I have a bit of a back pain."
Long pause.
"Are you saying we should stay home?"
"Are you saying we should skip a lesson?"
Another long pause.
"No. We should go."
"I know."
And we go.
Every Monday, no matter what the weather is like, or how tired we are, my husband and I go to dance (ballroom) lessons. For years now.

I am convinced that there is a secret book for dance teachers. Not the one with fancy pictures and perfect moves and vocabulary. There is another one, with little messages on how to manage adult learners. I have not seen the book, but in the many years I have been able to infer some secrets.

Some advice from there:
1. Start slow and make the learners believe that they can actually learn to dance. Only when you are completely sure that they won't quit, you can show how their moves look compared to the expected ones. (My husband and I realized rather quickly that we would never learn it the right way. We started at the same time as our daughter. It is a serious sport, and it takes several lessons a week to achieve quality. If you dance for years once a week, you will go beyond the basic and occasionally it may be possible to pretend to strangers that you know what you do. )
2. You should be aware that people over thirty five may not be able to memorize rhythm, posture, steps, hands, toes, knees, head and hips at the same time. Focus on few at the time. Keep coming back. Don't loose hope. (Top grades for this to our teacher. It is actually very cute when she, over and over again, teaches us some new moves, and then reminds us to also use the basic techniques we have practiced and practiced. Our head can take only so much. We absolutely forget about the knees and toes when we try to memorize the different figures.) 
3. You can try to teach middle aged Estonian men how to move their hips, but be ready to suppress your laughter when you see them trying to do it. (I have to say that our teacher has been very good with this. The women in the lesson - not so good. We chuckle.)
4. Make sure that in between the dances you give some background knowledge or theoretical tips, so the dancers can rest. (We had a substitute teacher one day, and he did not follow that rule. We were exhausted and ached all over later. Good exercise though.)
5. Use the right vocabulary but allow the dancers to make up their own. (May-be there are people who can memorize all the terms, or even better, they learn the steps and the man leads without words. We are different. We have our own cue words to use. Without them, I could easily do opposite to my husband's intentions. Sometimes, when he tries to push me in a certain direction, I simply push back. Agreeing on what we do next helps us to look like a couple, not individual performers who hold hands. Some words from our vocabulary: float, glide, pull the carpet, roll me, shake hands, limp, chick-pum-paa.)
5. If it seems that they start feeling too comfortable and content, teach them some new moves to confuse them. (I believe that this is the golden rule of the dance teachers. Whenever my husband and I feel that "Wow. We can dance!" the teacher teaches us something new and everything seems falls apart. No surprise that we keep going back to the lessons.)

I am sure that there are some other rules that I haven't figured out yet. I will continue dancing to find out more.



dance slice 2011
dance slice 2012

guarding my spark

My One Little Word for this year is "spark." I need it for the tough days at school.

Finding the spark is not difficult, but keeping the spark alive and healthy is challenging. I nurtured it with love and care, I guarded it form negative thoughts, I looked for the positive even on the darkest day, I fed it with laughter, I warmed it with inspiration. On some days it danced and hummed. On some days it fell ill and hid from the world. I soothed it, I cradled it, I tickled it. It became brighter again.
Today I wasn't ready for an attack and my spark was unprotected. Cold winds of words blew and my spark froze and vanished. No matter how hard I tried to get it back, I was surrounded by darkness and my heart was filled with the tears I had swallowed.
Then the giant, who had spoken the harsh words, returned my spark with an apology and a hug.
My spark grew stronger.

Where is my creative spirit?

In the morning I looked for my Creative Spirit*. She has a very bad habit of disappearing when I need her the most. I am not even sure why I still turn to her for help. She doesn't allow me to feel pity nor cry. She hardly ever gives me any advice. She loudly laughs at my attempts to be profound or poetic. She is more like a strict personal trainer making me write a bit more when I am sure I have no words left in me.
I looked for her all over the place. I thought she had taken my "Quiet" book and hid herself in the bedroom. Nope. She can get lost in books forever. She claims that she has worked for some famous people before me. I don't know. I think she is just bragging. Creative spirits don't come with CVs and recommendation letters.
I suspected she had snuck to kitchen to eat the delicious apple cake my hubby had made. Nope. She has a sweet tooth. It's very likely that she came to me only because my daughters and husband bake frequently and really well. She has no fear of gaining weight or getting a stomach ache. Every time I take another piece she makes sure to wave her finger at me and shake her head with disapproval. I ignore her.
I hoped that she would be practicing yoga in the living room. Nope. We have tried doing yoga together. It's awful. She can't keep quiet. Whenever there is an animal pose I have to listen to her moos, purrs, and barks. When I struggle with twisting myself, she turns herself into complicated knots and rolls her eyes. Sometimes when I try to balance myself in a tree pose she simply pushes me to fall over. Her favorite pose is the corpse pose. This is the only time she can be perfectly still.
I opened my journal and found a little note: "Hi. Don't look for me. I got tired of the cold and snow. I'll return when the weather gets warmer."
Sigh. I'll try to survive.

*
creative spirit 1
creative spirit 2
creative spirit 3

a daily phone call

"Hi, Sis. What have you done today?" (The usual start for our phone conversations)
"Not much. Slow Saturday. What about you?"
"Not much either."
One would think that this kind of start would predict a quick end to the chat. Not with us.
She speaks about her plans for dinner, about cleaning windows, about going for a walk.
I share Mimm's treasure hunt game, about hubby taking a nap after making lunch, about upcoming student led conferences. I mention reading "Quiet"* by Susan Cain.
"I have come to a conclusion that I am probably an introvert," I suggest.
"What makes you think that?"
"Well I'd rather be at home than in a big crowd. You know how extroverts always know what to speak about in the crowd, I don't."
"They live active lives, so they have what to talk about. But if going out or staying home is the basis for definition, then we are both very content with staying home and drinking tea. Then again if our hubbies see us with our mom, we talk non-stop. They would call us extroverts."
We laugh at how we talk seemingly without taking a breath. We do the same during the phone call. Topics switch from weather, to curtains, to plants, to furniture, to exercise, to TV shows, to google reader closing down, to blogs we read. I brief her about my phone call with mom, she updates me on J.'s (my nephew) new reading books. We map the rest of our family as introverts. Still not sure about mom and us.
"See how nothing happened and we still talked with each other for more than an hour," my sis points out.
"Yes, but none of these topics would have been very entertaining for others. Nothing intellectual or cultural," I point back.
"Well you mentioned reading a book," she finds one.
"Yes, that makes me deep and interesting."
"May-be there is a category of introverts who within their family talk uncontrollably."
"Did you know that in Asian cultures talking is often viewed upon as waste of time? Quiet is the sign of deep thought," I share a bit of what I had read.
"So in the crowd we can pretend we are in deep thought," my sis suggest.
We laugh again. With each other we don't count the minutes we spend on talking. We absolutely enjoy talking about nothing, about something, about anything, about everything. We decide that even though our phone calls are long, we are introverts, just because we are Estonians and that it's carried in our genes.
Before hanging up we talk a bit more about our plans for the evening, for the next week, for the next weekend. We dream about spring.



* In "Quiet" Susan Cain combines research findings, with stories of famous introverts and with personal stories. She shows the power of introverts and the challenges they face in a world that values extroverts. A fascinating book.

the short slice

I liked Michelle's quiet.Loud slice from the beginning of March. I don't think of sounds but about the length of my writing today. Really short. Probably the shortest slice this month. It doesn't matter that I was pretty well prepared for this challenge. I had a long list of topics to write about. I thought I had figured out how to find time - getting up earlier, using breaks between lessons, writing before leaving school, skipping google reader and pinterest, asking hubby to prepare dinners more often. Life just keeps going faster than I am able to keep up. 

Squeezed empty short
Drop down tired short
Hoping to get rest short
Need to disconnect short
Must make dinner short
Haven't called to my sister yet short
Child waiting to play with me short
Creative spirit frozen short
I'm sorry for not commenting enough short
Not wanting to miss writing short

puzzling princess pink snack

"Excuse me, I need to ask something from A.," Mr. T walks to my classroom.
"What is it?" Curiosity guides me.
"C. is staying with A. while her father is away. I understood that A. has their snack."
"A. would you, please, give C. her snack."
"Sure," A. goes out of the classroom to her cubby and returns....with the fluffiest creamy princess pink cake I have seen in a long time,  still in a plastic case, wrapped with a bow.
"This is a cake. Do you have a cake for a snack? A whole cake for the two of you to share?" Mr. T and I are completely puzzled.
"I guess," A. slowly shrugs her shoulders and looks at us apologetically.
"C. come and see," Mr. T calls into his classroom and C. walks over.
"This is the snack. Shall we cut you a piece?"
C. shakes her head and starts walking backwards, " I think I have something else in my bag."
"What shall I do with the cake?" A. stands in the doorway.
"I don't know. What do you suggest?" I ask her.
"May be we can eat it in class?"
"I suppose. Why do you have a whole cake for a snack?" I hope for some explanation.
"Well, we had guests over, and one likes one thing, and another doesn't like some cakes, mom had many different cakes and this was left over," A. speaks in one breath.
"Shall we eat it now?" I ask her.
"Ok." A. brings the cake to the classroom.
It's amusing to watch the eyebrows shoot up.
I unwrap the cake. As I am about to cut it I'm called to stop.
"Wait, I need to take a picture," one student says.
"Me too."
"Me three."
I join the crew of photographers.
Students with I-Pads crowd around the table and the princess pink cake stands in full glory in the spot light.

There was plenty for 15 students and some left over for teachers to eat.

rejected thoughts

The hardest part of the challenge is to write in haste without the time to thoroughly revise and refine. I had "rejected thoughts" written in my notebook. I played with the words and thoughts a little and settled to this poemish writing. Not exactly what I envisioned, but on it's way. 

rejected thoughts and discarded words
wishing for a second chance
hoping for a better future
wanting to make a difference

rejected thoughts and discarded words
searching for a meaningful spot
waiting for a right moment
dreaming of a perfect owner

rejected thoughts and discarded words
sneaking into an old photograph
hiding between rocks and pebbles
meeting a pen on a napkin corner

rejected thoughts and discarded words
warming hearts in the old man's tales
bringing joy in the child's play
becoming mighty in the poet's mind

I will never

I will never be a yoga teacher,
but I will continue bending and stretching
because I wish to stay healthy.
I will never be a politician,
but I will go and vote on an election day
because I believe that my voice counts.
I will never be a professor in a large auditorium,
but I will lead literacy workshops for teachers
because I can support them in their learning.
I will never be a board member of a large company
but I will continue to serve on a school board
because I can give my time to help.
I will never climb the highest mountain,
but I will bravely face challenges in my life
because I know that I am strong.
I will never benji jump from a bridge over a waterfall,
but I will be a risk taker in professional life
because it is necessary for growth.
I will never be a host of a grand reception,
but I will invite friends and relatives to my home
because they matter to me.
I will never be a world famous poet,
but I will write about the poetry of my life
because it feels good.


Very loosely based on
Never poem by Kim Kautzer and I'll never by Amy Ludwig VanDerwater
At first I also played with humor and alliteration, but the end result became different. May-be I will or may-be I will not return to the funny poems later. I won't say "I will never" ;)

Life on a game board

Our family likes board games. When Mimm was 6, she made two board games for us to play. The first one was about BFG and the second one about Wizard of Oz.

Yesterday when I arrived from a 4-day trip to Prague, Mimm (8) decided that the best way to spend time together would be to make one more board game. We thought of different books I had read aloud to her or she had read herself, but none of them got a strong yes from Mimm. Then I joked that since Mimm can't think of anything, she should loose one turn. That sparked an idea to make a board game about our life. All together our family (43, 42, 17, 16, 8) thought of different situations that would make us move back or forward, loose a turn or roll again.

Today Mimm and I continued. We thought of pictures to draw and colors and symbols to add. As we drew each idea on the game board we kept crossing things of the list. Mimm drew the pictures and I colored the circles and wrote instructions. We decided where exactly should one move back or forward. We added numbers and symbols. Voila! We have a new game to play.

Our life:
Mimm has friends over and they play (roll again)
Kerstin bakes (skip a turn)
We don't have any baking paper left, go to the store (move back)
Mom and dad go to work (move forward)
Dad takes Marianne to a dance competition (move forward)
Mimm performs, mom and dad go to watch (roll again)
We all play a board game (move if you get 4,5, or 6)
Mom forgets her tea and it gets cold (roll again)
Everyone plays on a computer on laptop or I-Pad (skip 2 turns)
Dad brings Marianne back from the competition (move back)
It's Sunday, Marianne goes back to grandma's place (move back)
Mimm creates a chaos with her toys (skip a turn)
We go to the movies (move forward)
Marianne and Kerstin go shopping with their aunt (skip a turn)
Dad does not understand anything that goes on (roll again)
We play WII (make someone else go back three places)
Mom and dad go walking (move forward)
Mimm forgets her schoolbag at school (move back)

not sure

I'm not sure what to choose to write about.
I'm not sure how to craft my experiences into stories.
I'm not sure why I don't allow myself to give up on this challenge.

It's easy to list possible topics to write about. I could probably write all my slices in a form of a list. Choosing what to write about is often quite random, sometimes purely depending on how much time I have to write.  I wish to show consideration to my readers, but quite often I write from selfish reasons. I guess it's ok. Sometimes I worry that I am just creating noise on a screen. I totally lack focus in my collection of slices. I guess this is also ok. Point that I tried to make with this rambling: I'm not able to make a choice today.
I could tell you about what I have seen or done. I'd like to do more. Right now I feel I lack the craft in turning experiences into stories (a phrase that caught my attention in the book "Quiet" that I had bought in Stockholm airport while waiting for my connecting flight home.) I have accepted that I can kind of write. I am even willing to admit that sometimes I am rather skillful in choosing words and adding humor. Other times I get frustrated because amazing experiences take the form of a paper, flat and lifeless, when I try to share them with others. Get over it. Move on. Try again. Write, write, write. Read, read, read. (That's me giving advice to myself. I usually listen.) Point that I tried to make with this rambling: I'm not able to craft a narrative slice today.
 I wrote every day this week. My schedule for the past week was filled to brim. My to do list was whipping me on my back. Sitting down to write felt like going on a secret meeting. My lack of experience with writing on I-Pad (I am thankful for having one, so much lighter to carry than a laptop, when traveling) frustrated me. I could have chosen not to write.  I still sliced and even commented before going to an airport, before breakfast, before going to a dinner, before going to sleep. Point that I tried to make with this rambling: I am not sure whether to be proud or consider myself crazy.

On top of all this rambling, I wish someone would ask me, what I did last night. Thank you for the question.
I danced in Lobkowicz Palace in Prague. I wore a tiara.
You may let your imagination go wild, but to tame it a bit, I should let you know that there was no fancy gown, expensive jewellery, waltzing, or royal family involved.

Coping with an ending and good-byes

Two years ago our Literacy Cohort was a group of strangers. We were all experienced and passionate teachers, eager to start a new journey of learning. We hoped that during the five conferences over the two years we would find knowledge, answers, and solutions. Knowing that we were all active learnes I don't understand that it came as a surprise to us that we discovered that there are more questions than answers, at some point we were more confused than ever, that we have to find our own ways to do things, and all learning starts with small steps. We are saying good-bye to each other today.

An end of a time together brings a sense of loss and sadness.
We refuse to let this feeling take over.
We are grateful and celebrate
friendship
learning
growth
inspiration
collaboration
strengths
energy
wishes
stories
change
dreams
future
and the unknown it may bring.

No tears for tonight. Music, food, hugs, more stories, and laughter will fill our evening.

Gifts

I have been part of an International Literacy Cohort for two years. It's a group of 25 teachers or literacy leaders from different international schools in Europe, one from Panama and one from Jordan. Bonnie Campbell Hill initiated this, but passed away before it became reality. Carrey Ekey and Shannon Stanton have been our amazing leaders.
 Last school year we met three times for 4 day conferences (Lisbon, Warsaw, and Rotterdam). Last November we had one 4 day conference in Prague. We are back in Prague for our last meeting. We came togehter as strangers with a goal to understand what Literacy Coaching is and how Literacy Coaches work. 
So this conference is bitter sweet. We have grown as learners. We are a strong professional learning comunity. We are friends. This is probably the greatest gift. There are some others. We each brought something this time to share - a book, a poem, a story, a slide show, a video, a song. Each time we meet we have received two PD books from Bonnie's library. It's a real treasure to own books that have highlightings or sticky notes to connect me to a woman who spread the idea of reading-writing workshop, reading-writing levels and continuums in the international school communities. Many gifts already. 
The challenge for me was to bring a gift to our cohort leaders. At first people thought of bringing something edible from their host country. A potato from Estonia? Then the idea opened up to little things. I thought of a hand-made soap. Reading that people from Netherlands were bringing cheese made me change my mind. The soap smelled and looked too much like a chunk of cheese. I'd rather avoid confusion. Besides it wasn't very Estonian. I started runningn out of time. I didn't want to bring just a souvenir from a gift shop. I asked my sister and friends for different ideas and we discovered that it's such a hard task. Eventually we thought that the gift shoud be connected to the nature. A hot plate from juniper has the look, and feel, and smell of nature. In addition I used child labor to draw a bit of Estonian nature and seasons. My daughters took this task without complaints. I made the pics into bookmarks and attached tiny mittens to them. The winter in Estonia lasts for months and most people know how to knit. May-be on a different day or with more time to choose the gift would have been different. This will be my gift for my cohort leaders this time. Juniper is a strong resilient bush. Resilience is something we have talked about at our course. The knowledge, guidance, support and empathy of the leaders and the whole group have helped me to become more resilient. 

Ladies first

They just keep coming in a single file. All men. Big old men with santa bellies and patterened woollen sweaters huff and puff on their way. Haweked eyed gentlemen in shiny pressed shirts and jackets hold tight to their briefcases. A gorup of skinny tall men with overgrown beards seem to have arrived from mountain climbing. Five young men in jeans and sweathirts lough and chat loudly. All men. Here comes the last one.
It's not fair. If it had been ladies first, my friend would have been on the plane with me. The standby system in the airport is a lottery and for the third time today she had been unlucky.

Earlier my joy of seeing her in the waiting area in the Frankfurt airport was quickly replaced with a worry. She had been there all day long because her plane was late, she missed her connecting flight, two folllowing flights to Prague were cancelled, and now she was still on the silly waiting list. She didn't complain. She laughed and joked. The standby passengers had allied, shared their stories and latest hopes for possible escape. I felt torn, boarding the plane and leaving my friend behind. She stood near the gate, smiled and waved good-bye.
When I saw other people from the one-day community boarding my plane, I got my hopes up. But it was all men. She was the first one left out.
My flight was the last flight of the day.

That was yesterday.

Today we started our Literacy Coaching cohort's fifth and final conferernce. My friend still hadn't arrived. We sat in a circle and shared updates of our lives and celebrated lates successes. Half way through the sharing the door opened. With cheers and clapping we greeted my friend's arrival.

As we found out, she had stayed in the airport overnight. Lufthansa wasn't able to provide anything else but a blanket, a pillow and a bottle of water. In the morning they brought good news that the first flight would have a bigger plane and all 20 people on the standby list could fly to their destination.
The fate of her suitcases was a different one. It hasn't arrived yet.

Scattered

I just went to put John Green's book to my bedside table. On my way I picked three PD books from the kitchen to be returned to a shelf. I had very clear intentions of returning books to where they belonged. When my husband came looking for me, he found me sitting on my bed, one PD book open, planning journal on one side and writing journal on the other. Thoughts about school and writing mixed and mingled. It felt good.