An apology letter to my Creative Spirit

Today is the final day of SOL monthly writing challenge. You can read slices at Two Writing Teachers blog. Even though the challenge is over, we will be getting together every Tuesday to share stories.



Dear Creative Spirit,

This is just to say that I'm sorry I whined so much the last time we met. You were right, I was fine during March. I wrote, wrote, wrote. I called this challenge a writing party and a party it was. Lots of people attended from all over the world. They all brought fabulous treats. I mingled and chatted and smiled. And I forgot about you. Now, I wonder whether you were around and I just didn't notice you.
Where you at the cafe when I went out with Mimm? Did you stand behind my classroom door when I participated in the Literature Circle discussion about "Rules"? How many times did you look over my shoulder whispering ideas into my ears? Which slice did you enjoy reading the most?

I know you said that you retired, but if you ever need a letter of recommendation, I could write one. You have been the most awesome creative spirit. Listening to me, yet letting me make my own choices, and allowing me to learn form my mistakes, nudging me to become independent. Sometimes you were bluntly honest, but I guess I needed it more than sugar coated false praise. The best of all is that you believed in me all the time, even when I doubted in my abilities to write.

The party is over, but I'm not too sad. No dishes to wash. No mess to clean. No final good-byes. The gifts of words will be in the virtual world for everyone to read. I will meet many people on Tuesdays and Saturdays. Not writing every day may weaken my writing muscles, but I hope to spend some more time strengthening my biceps and abs. And I promise I will read, read, read, and write, write, write, as much as I can. My journal is almost full, but I have another one waiting for me already.

I hope that you accept my apology. I invite you to come to visit soon. We can have a cup of green tea. I also think you would enjoy playing "Dixit" with everyone. Or we could go for a walk. It's getting warmer, little flowers are peeking from the grass and from all the trees and rooftops the birds announce that spring has arrived.

Warm regards,
Terje

P.S.
I sometimes worry that people think I am insane when I talk to you, but I hope that they have conversations with their creative spirits and don't judge me.

Thank you! Aitäh!

The orange SOL logo has been shining every day in March. Vibrant, healthy, encouraging, a bit whimsical and reminding of "Dot" by Peter H. Reynolds, it has invited people to write, tell stories, experiment, play, read and connect with each other.
A team of amazing women at Two Writing Teachers blog has created a safe and inspiring community, where trust and support have allowed people to reach out, open their hearts and reveal their true selves through words on a page.
Thank you!

The fourth year participating in this monthly challenge was fun. Over the years the writing has become easier. The biggest challenge for me has been commenting. I have tried to squeeze many comments into my day, but not nearly as much as I wished. I feel that I have missed meeting some wonderful people and reading many touching, funny, thoughtful, entertaining and memorable slices. Knowing how difficult it has been to keep up with commenting, I appreciate friends who have come back to comment day after day.  I know Jaana (only one I have met in person), Michelle, Linda, elsie, Jen, Tara, Leigh Anne, Julieanne, Julie and Loralee  through their slices and comments. I hope that they know that their words have touched my heart, caressed me, made me smile, helped me to solve problems, and inspired me to be a better person.
Thank you!

Many others came to visit me on different days and many others welcomed me to their lives through their blog posts. Each person, life and story is unique. Yet, the stories connect us. In my letter to Stacey I wrote "I have noticed that no matter where we are, we keep making sense of our lives, search and cherish little moments that make us happy and look for big ideas that help us to be the best persons, moms, teachers, and friends that we can be."  It matters to reach out and connect, to feel belonging and to know that our words can make a difference. Your words have made a difference in my life.
Thank you!

Aitäh!

Celebrate this week

Celebrating with Ruth

Slicing with Two Writing Teachers 

Have you read Elephant and Piggie book "We Are in a Book"? The Elephant panics when he finds out that the book is going to end, because he has more to give, more words, more jokes. He just wants to be read.

I feel a bit like The Elephant today. The month of slicing is almost over and I feel that I have more to give. I know I will be here sharing slices on Tuesdays and celebrating on Saturdays, yet it feels a bit sad that March will end on Monday.

Sometimes I think that some joyful moments shouldn't be shared at all. Not writing the memories down or not taking pictures of them gives the memories a different glow. At the same time, writing and taking pictures helps to make the links to the memories in the brain stronger.

A list works as a memory anchor, allows to give a glimpse of life and collect ideas for future writing. Thinking of this week, I collected many slices and many reasons to celebrate in my journal. I will share some.

The BIG event this week was having successful student-led conferences (link). A bit of nail-biting and nervous foot tapping from the students part and a lot of active listening, patting on the back, wow-s and bravo-s from the parents part.

The unusual experience this week was going to a cafe at 7:00 a.m. On a school day I have no time to go to a cafe and on a day off I enjoy having a slow breakfast at home. Yesterday I had to give a ride to my middle daughter who had to catch an early bus to Tartu to participate in state chemistry competition. Since I had no wish to eat breakfast at 6:00 a.m, and school was still closed,  I decided to eat my breakfast at a hotel cafe. Drinking a cup of green tea and eating salmon quiche, I wondered how many people would guess that I am a teacher. Is it written on my face?

The best slice this week I wrote on Thursday. You can read it here.

The tickles-my-pride moment this week was seeing my slice mentioned as an inspiration on TWT blog. I was pleasantly surprised when Stacey wrote to me and asked for a permission. I felt honored and of course I said yes.

The together-time this week took me to a theatre with my hubby, mom and sis on Wednesday and to movies with my eldest on Friday. We went to see "The Divergent." The room was filled with teenagers. I was the only middle-aged person in the room. I am glad that my daughter took me.

The heart-warming memories this week include hugs, sweet wishes, little gifts, a surprise cake, and flowers. Getting older is not too bad.

Wishing you all sunshine and smiles!

Ready for the student-led conferences

Read more slices at Two Writing Teachers

Sunshine gave a bright promising start to a day.

The classroom is set and waiting for the students and their parents.

Here is the schedule for the hour the students and the parents will spend together in their classroom and touring the school:

 Evernote is an easy to use, easy to access tool for creating portfolios.

Each student has a notebook stack "Portfolio" with subject notebooks inside. Each subject notebook holds fall and spring reflections:

In their notes students included both text and pictures. Many students preferred to write in Google Drive first and then copy-paste their reflections to notes:

In class we have set up stations. It is possible for up to four students to be in the class at the same time.

In math satation the students can share some of the games we have learned to help practice large number addition and subtraction,. They can share their daily math journal and explain what they think and do when adding and subtracting large numbers.

In the reading station the students will read a book that they chose, give a summary, share their thoughts, explain what goes on in the head of a reader, and how literature circles work:

In the writing center they will share their writing work, show their journal and class blog, explain what is a writing process and craft. if time permits they can do 5-Minute-Friday writing with their parents:

For the unit of inquiry we have up the displays about Energy topics that the students explored and presented:

I breathe in. I breathe out.  I know that the students have learned and grown over the several months. They have work to show, they have portfolios to share, they practiced what to do during the 30 minutes in our classroom. I will be present and help out when needed, but the spotlight is going to be on the students. They own the show. I can only hope that the children will shine and the parents will celebrate their wonderful children and all the learning that has happened. 

My gift to you

Dear Friends,

Sorry for not commenting much yesterday. This week is the busiest week in March, and yesterday was one of the busiest days of this week. A meeting before school, portfolio writing, students presenting during an assembly, quickly slicing, meeting my sister after school, going to theatre, getting home long after my bedtime, the day left  me exhausted. I know you don't want the excuses, but I just wanted to know that I had not forgotten you, just didn't have a chance to check in.

Pockets of time allowed me to think about what to write today. I wanted today's post to be special. I thought of what gift could I give to you all. Some time ago I read positive stories about aging. Many amazing women wrote about what they feel and think about getting older. I was thinking about it yesterday, wondering what I would write. I thought that even when I am not happy about getting older physically, and have not yet embraced the notion that I am beautiful as I am, I do not stress so much when the number changes. I would like to think that I have become wiser and more confident than in the youth, that I have discovered some secrets of happiness. Then I think that this feeling may come from the fact that right now I float in my life with a peaceful pace. (You may think of this e-book as a gift of reading, but this not yet what I had in mind.)

Maybe the greatest learning that has happened is that no matter what I wish or how I plan the day or the new year, I do not know how it will turn out, but the not knowing is ok, and that open mind and looking from different perspectives helps to stay sane. Sometimes my life periods (short or long)  perfectly match what I envisioned, sometimes I may have to accept heart-breaking truths, sometimes I may get caught in the turmoil of events and feelings, yet when I pause I can count the blessings (so many of them in my life),  and when I think of the future I have to hold on to the hope that everything will turn out fine (and usually it does). And that it is ok to feel happy, without feeling guilty. (You may take this advice as a small gift too, but this is not yet what I had in mind)

When I was walking, then more than about aging and about some of the lessons I have learned (or think I have learned) I thought about a scarf around my neck. Recently I was at an event and a mother of my former student saw me wearing a scarf she had given to me as a present last year. A softest winter scarf I have ever owned. The mother smiled and said that her mom was coming to visit and she would ask her to bring me another scarf for warmer days. Such a lovely thought. But after this event I forgot all about it. Yesterday the mother of my former student came to my class after the lessons and gave me a present. A beautiful gray patterned thin fabric shawl. I was ready to cry. She had no reason to give me the scarf, but she wanted to do it.

And here is my gift to you (sorry, no scarf) in a form of a wish. You all know that you will get present and hugs and flowers on your birthday. You sometimes get little gifts from your students and their parents. I wish that on an ordinary day when you least expect someone will give you an unexpected gift that will you smile during that moment and every other moment when you think about it.

Hugs to you all!

Your friend,
Terje

If you are not sure what to do...

Hear our stories. Get writing inspiration. Read SOL posts at Two Writing Teachers blog.

Show four different models for 4x5

Explain different mental computation strategies for 8x6  

Solve the following problems:  3 x 23, 4 x 13, 5 x 47, 3 x 154

Pencils, colored pencils, square paper, rulers, erasers are necessary tools for getting started. 

I sit back, knowing that some time will pass before anyone asks for help or clarification. I am fairly confident that majority of the students will show what they have learned. I let my eyes wander and mind wonder.

If M gets any closer to the paper, he will touch it with his nose.

I wonder if T hears Math tunes in his head, he keeps rocking himself rhythmically.

V places the ruler carefully on the paper and slowly draws a line. I bet she would rather draw squiggles and zig-zags with personalities.

Is it warm outside? The sunshine promises warmth but the swinging birch branches warn of wind.

I wonder whose job it is to wash school windows? Should I do it?

"Ms. Terje, G. is sitting on a couch and reading instead of doing Math," Z has seen necessary to come and inform me.

Indeed. G is sitting on a couch flipping through "Bad Kitty Gets a Bath." 

My heart swells with hope. Yes, you read it right - hope. 

G. a student who worries me, gives me headaches, makes me doubt in my abilities to reach and help him, puts me on the verge of loosing hope. Learning difficulties, behavior difficulties, attention difficulty, self esteem challenges, attitude issues, motivation issues, language issues, very low reading ability,  - everything seems to be combined in this boy.

Yet, now, seeing him sitting on a couch and flipping a book, I have hope.

"Thank you for letting me know," I tell Z, "G. made a good choice this time. Let him be there. You can go back to your work."

G. made the best choice possible. When he saw that the math had become a challenge for him, then instead of the expected disruptive behavior, he followed advice from the white board:

"If not sure what to do - go read."

There's hope.

I won't give up.

It took some imagination

Come and read slices at Two Writing Teachers

"Bring your journals and lets share the slices," I invite my students to gather on a carpet. 

Even though it has been in our Wednesday routine for many months, some students still look genuinely surprised that they were supposed to write. Instructions were written on their Homework sheet, I reminded them the day before. 

Sheepishly they come, knowing exactly what I would say, but instead I frown and shake my head in disbelief and disappointment. When will they take charge of their work? 

Other students excitedly wait, legs crisscrossed, journals open on their lap. T. (8) is hugging her pink journal tight. This time it's my turn to share first.

"Is it about Mimm?" V. guesses.

"Not this time?" I reply.

"Then it's about reading," V is convinced, and immediately offers an explanation  "Because you usually share about your daughter or reading."

He is right. I share my slice about Literature Circle discussion.

Now it's T's turn.

She opens her journal but still holds it close. I can see that she has two words written with a blue marker on top of the page and the rest seems empty. A suspicion rises in me. Should I ask her to show the journal or let her go on. If you don't know what to do, don't do anything. I hold my tongue.

T. starts slowly, sharing how much she cares about her hamster, what she would do if something happened to her. She looks closer at  a page, as if not able to read her handwriting, and continues with a relaxed and confident voice. I know the page is empty, except for the two blue words. I don't interrupt her. Her words are engaging, and secretly I admire that she is able to come up with them on spot.
When she finishes, I turn to her, "You chose your words well. You can write this a blog post later."

When others have shared their slices, I give students some time to browse their journals and choose what to write on the blog. T. starts typing fast.

Only later I go over to her and ask quietly, "Tell me honestly, did you have your slice written at home?"
T. shyly looks at the floor and shakes her head.
"You should know that I knew it before you started telling your slice, but I didn't want to interrupt you. You pretended well, and now you have the slice on your blog, but please, please, don't lie again, and please, please, get your homework done on time, " I whisper to her.
She nods.
I smile and nod back.

Book spine poems

Enjoy slices at Two Writing Teachers blog

At least once during the March challenge I try a book spine poem.

Plan A:

Fascinating concept: use the spines of different books to create a poem. Not as easy as it might sound.

To write an extraordinary poem you need: a poet's brain to weave a delicate or a powerful message, a poet's eye to choose the most marvelous titles, and the poet's ears to combine them to sound musical. Take your time, spread the books, arrange, rearrange, add and remove titles. Wait. Read. Redo.

Plan B:

Fascinating concept: use the titles of different books to create a poem. As easy as it sounds.

To write a playful poemish piece you need: a dreamer's brain to imagine possibilities, a hawk's eye to scan the room for suitable titles,  a forgiving heart to accept the imperfection and approximation of the desired result. Use the free time you have. Work quickly to be able to return the books before the next lesson starts. Make a mental note to use plan A next time.

I went with Plan B.

The brain works in strange ways. It fills in the gaps in between the titles because it knows the images, feelings and thought of the one assembling the books. Believe me, the poems made sense to me, when I put them together and took photos. I hope they speak to some of the readers too. 

Boy

So you want to be an explorer?

Jump right in

Splish, splash

Wish for a fish

How to Write Your Life Story

If I were in charge of the world

Falling up

Sky magic

Once around the sun

Earthdance

The place where my words are looking for

where the sidewalk ends

under a blue umbrella.

Once upon a poem

The long, long letter,

this is just to say

wonderful words.

Days like this

I like to be me.

Book spine poem 2013

Book stacks and book spine poem 2012

Book spine poem 2011

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.

Celebrate this week

Slice of Life at Two Writing Teachers

Celebrate with Ruth Ayres

Where to start?

Start from the beginning.

I celebrate my friend and colleague.  Sirje is a first grade teacher. I have known her more than half of my life. We went to the university together and have worked together more than 15 years. She is the one who invited me to join the Estonian Reading Association. Together we have given workshops to parents and Estonian teachers, written for a book, and organized Book Week events at school. This Tuesday we gave a workshop (to a small audience) at an international conference (big event). I wrote about it here. The best part is the laughter. No matter how worried or nervous we are, we find time to plan and practice, and then we laugh. A lot. 

I celebrate reflection writing. I'll use the words I shared with the parents on our class blog:

Twice a year the students in PYP pause and ponder about who they are as writers and readers, what attitudes do they show in math and inquiry, what are some things they have created, what are their strengths and areas to grow, what have they learned and how much they have grown.
As a teacher it is fascinating to see how different students approach the task and what is that they find most important to include in their reflections.
We take writing reflections similarly to writing any texts. We think what is the purpose, who is the audience, what ideas and details to include, how to structure the text, and what words to use so it would be interesting to read.
Writing reflections takes time, yet it is important not to just plow on with learning, but to stop and see where we started,  where we are now and where we are heading. 

I celebrate going to gym. I was exhausted on Wednesday. I yawned and wanted to crawl to bed at six o'clock already. But I didn't. I went to gym instead. I still don't have the strength and stamina to do all the exercises, but I was there. I didn't skip the lesson.

I celebrate Mimm performing. Four times a week Mimm goes to gymnastics/dance training. Her trainer is this amazing woman, who in addition of training many groups of girls, organizes large scale performances. We had a large Cinderella musical in November and now there was a dance performance "Miina - one girl's story." This show took place all over the school house. The audience walked from one place to another and watched different dance groups perform a story of growing up.  Even in between the dances, when the audience moved, we saw children acting to the music and text coming from the loud speakers. Mimm was part of two dances. Too excited to watch, I didn't take a single picture. The first dance was a rhythmical choreography with two drum sticks. The second one was a funny scene with girls trying on adult shoes. As I found out later, Mimm wasn't originally supposed to be in this dance, but since someone got sick and she knew the steps, she got the part.

On Thursday and Friday there were two performances on both days. I am so glad that my mom came to watch Mimm yesterday.

I celebrate my oldest being in a local newspaper. My mom was in a teacher newspaper last Friday. Now Marianne was interviewed for our local community newspaper. When I came home yesterday and took the newspaper from the mailbox, her picture was the first thing I saw. She was on the front cover. Even though she doesn't go to the local school anymore, she started dancing here, went to school for nine years here, and was recognized for her achievement.  

I have to say it feels a bit funny  but mighty exciting to have both my mom and my daughter in a newspaper. 

I celebrate slicing and comments. These deserve a separate post. I will write it. Soon.

I celebrate a no-hurry Saturday. It doesn't happen often that I get a weekend where nothing is scheduled and no deadlines are looming. Well, there is always domestic duties and school work, but no pressure. I have no plans. 

Where to start?

Start from the beginning.

:: right now ::

Right now I am:


:: appreciating that today was a teacher workday and we didn't have any meetings and could just work on what we needed

:: patting myself on the back for sorting papers and updating my class blog

:: worrying less about the student projects than yesterday

:: forgiving myself for getting less written on the Mangebac system than I had planned

:: accepting that even several hours of uninterrupted work time isn't enough to get everything done

:: running out of energy - body and laptop

:: wondering why I feel like I forgot something

:: thinking of possible future slices

:: smiling because I read Jen's slice/letter to me

:: waiting for my mom to come so we can drive home together

:: looking forward to Mimm's performance tonight

:: wishing everyone a sunny weekend



inspired by Soule Mama

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.

Saboteur

"Dad is the saboteur," Mimm is convinced and places a blocking card on the carpet in front of dad.
"I think that you are the saboteur, blocking me, so I can't dig the mine and reach the gold," dad replies and blocks Mimm in return.
"I just have odd crooked paths and can't do anything," I comment and put one of my cards down.
We look at each other suspiciously. Saboteur is not my favorite game. I try to avoid playing it as much as possible. I don't like to be the saboteur. Each time we play I hope to get the card of a dwarf, and I hope that everyone has the same, so we can keep digging the mines, get the gold quickly and play something else. I like being kind and working together. I always want to be the dwarf.
But I am not. Today I am the saboteur. I keep a straight face, lie, and trick others. They suspect nothing, only blame and block each other, making it easier for me to steal the gold from them.
I have come to a realization that sometimes I am a saboteur in my own life. I lie to myself that I could stop eating sweets if I wanted to, I find reasons to make another sandwich in the evening, I create excellent excuses for not keeping healthy eating habits. As much as I would like to portray myself as a diligent worker, on some days I detour from working toward the goal, distract myself with meaningless activities, build roadblocks into my schedule. I have not figured out what the reward is in sabotaging myself. In a game I get shiny gold pieces. In a real life just guilt and stress.
Now I wonder how I could sabotage the saboteur in me.

learning experience

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.

Our stories are beautiful.
We have to tell our stories to understand how beautiful they are.
Children need to hear stories. Many stories.
It's our job to tell the stories not to wait for the kids to ask. They don't know that they need to ask.

Storyteller Piret Päär

I take these ideas and words with me from a last session of an international conference "Quality Education for Children at Social Risk. Sharing best practices and starting a dialogue." The storyteller who spoke was a small-sized woman, barely reaching the microphone at the podium, yet her words filled every corner of the conference hall, reached every heart, and carried the listeners to different places and times, stirred emotions, and changed us all in some way. 

It was a different kind of a day for me today. Instead of being at school, I was at the conference. My friend and I had been invited to give a workshop at this conference, one Estonian Reading Association workshop leader had recommended us to the organizers. Hesitant at first (we had given workshops to teachers and parents, but here the audience was unclear; we had given workshops in English, but it's not our mother tongue) we still said yes. Reading and supporting readers matters to us. We titled our workshop "Supporting Literacy Development of Children" and included five topics: importance of reading, role of adults, reading nest, read aloud and supporting readers. 

Today we felt well prepared: we knew our message; had a slide show with pictures and no more than six words on each slide; had practiced our text several times; had a balance of suggestions, facts and stories; and had brought two suitcases of books. At first we were worried that the participants might not be our target audience and the may feel bored. Then we worried that because of many parallel sessions no one would come. The latter came almost true. Never in my life have I been at a workshop with only five people in the audience. Nevertheless, it was a positive learning experience. Letting our passion show and keeping expectations high for ourselves we engaged the five people in a dialogue with us, and we know that we would be ready for a bigger audience too.

Right after us a woman from Uzbekistan shared how SOS children villages support children at risk. What a different world she described. Her worries were about getting enough clothes and food for the kids, to provide facilties where plumbing works, to keep them safe. She said later that our ideas of reading nests, book choices and  adult-child interaction during reading were like form a dreamland. In Uzbekistan the Government has announced that the country has 99,9% literacy. Their local Reading Association was banned. Learning at schools is still based mostly on rote memorization and thinking independently is not valued. I was so impressed with the work she was doing under those conditions. 

Finishing the day with listening to the storyteller made me almost cry. She weaved together the stories she grew up with, her personal stories, her storytelling experiences and stories of other people. She shared how stories had shaped her, how stories had touched tough audiences in the most unexpected ways, how in a trusting community people had really understood their own stories. I thought of my mom who has told us stories about her childhood so we can almost tell them by heart. And then I thought of the stories I have not shared with my children. I thought of our SOL community, and how our lives provide us with stories, and through telling the stories we shape our lives and who we are, and having an audience whom we can trust helps us to appreciate our lives and stories. 

Today I'll take these ideas and words of storyteller Piret Päär:

It's our job to tell the stories not to wait for the kids to ask. They don't know that they need to ask.
Children need to hear stories. Many stories.
We have to tell our stories to understand how beautiful they are.
Our stories are beautiful.

Reading: mini-slices

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.

Read aloud:
On Friday I asked my students to give a short summary of our week for our class blog. One group wrote about read aloud "This week  Ms.Terje  is reading The Tale of Desperaux for  snack/read aloud and we do work, like for example we tell the feelings of the main character. We learn how to write about reading. We think along when the teacher reads. You get to listen to a story. "
I looked at the text and felt that it wasn't bringing out the best of their reading thinking nor their writing skills. I asked them to at least say what the story is about.
One student said, "It's about bravery."
Before I had a chance to ask for elaboration, the smallest boy in the class responded, "It's not only about bravery. It's about being different, and it tells you how some might feel when you treat them badly because they are different."


Literature Circle:
I am reading Rules with two fifth and two third graders. These readers are independent and most of the time I just sit back and let them discuss the book. They have moved away from reading notes and try to have a natural conversation. I try to take notes as much as possible. During one meeting they were talking about being different and my third grade girl said, "Once I went to a birthday and there was a girl who was different. But it doesn't mean that you can say "Arrgh" or "Ohh." It's not their fault, it's their life, you can't be the judge. You have to understand that they are different, you have to accept and respect them."


You can guess how I felt hearing these words.

sorting thoughts

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.


The washing machine has done its job for today. The vacuum cleaner has earned its rest. The sink sparks clean and empty. Procrastination is a tool for sorting thoughts. 

Books have returned to shelves. Board game boxes stand in a neat tower. Papers, pencils, and fairy wings have found their  right place. Uncluttering your surrounding is supposed to sort your thoughts. 

I drank my tea slowly. I turned off the TV. I sat on a couch and closed my eyes.
Peace and quiet is needed for looking inward.

I have tried all of the above and my thoughts still race in my head, twisting themselves into knots, blocking the pathways to action. 

Walking clears mind, but with a blizzard outside, I don't even want to try it today.

I'll try writing.

Here it goes:

• We had MAP test last week and the results confuse me. The students I was afraid would go down with the scores had growth, and the ones I know have been eager to learn and practice, who have read and written the most, their scores didn't grow at all. I know it's just a test, but still....
• We are writing reflections, and I have used different guiding questions, and several sessions of writing to support students in writing their reflections, reminding them that in any writing they need to consider their audience, pay attention to words and write with passion and voice. How come it still get some "I like reading. It is fun." and "I am good at writing because I write well"?
• My homework is pretty much the same from week to week: read daily, practice math, read and have notes for Literature Circles twice a week, share a slice of life on Wednesday. How come some still show up without their notes or writing journal?
• My friend and I will give a little workshop at a conference next Tuesday. We are kind of ready, but not quite. I am getting nervous. 
• I have to write subplans for Tuesday. Should I write what the students would do if I was there or should I leave something easy and fun?
• In Unit of Inquiry the students are working on small projects about light and sound. They have had time to experiment and create and read and research. I have allowed them to inquire and take charge of their own learning. We have looked at different project presentations, discussing what makes one better than another, how a really good presentation sounds and looks like. I know that process matters and that they are allowed to make mistakes. Yet, I want the final project presentation to be good and something that is substantial and meaningful and pleasing to look at. What I have seen so far makes me worried.
• We have two weeks until the student-led conferences. I will be gone next Tuesday and next Friday is an inservice-day. We aren't even half finished with the reflections. We have to choose what activities to show during the half an hour in our class. Will we be ready? 

I can not change the MAP scores, I can not do the hw for the students, I have to let the students write their reflections and create their projects, there is still time for until the student-led conferences, my absence probably should not change the regular schedule and routines. Ok.
What can I do?
Practice for the Tuesday workshop.
Write my subplans.

I had planned writing a light slice of life with carefully chosen verbs and adjectives and some poetic language in it. I could not find those words because my messy thoughts occupied my head. I couldn't do or write anything else until I had untied and sorted my thoughts. Writing the thoughts out helped me today.  

Celebrate this week

Ruth Ayres Celebrate

SOLSC at Two Writing Teachers

My story:

When I woke up today, daylight beamed through my bedroom curtains. Yesterday's weather forecast predicted snow and I had no wish to go an peek whether it had become true. Summer stays in my bedroom all year long. The photo above greets me on my bedroom wall. My dad took the photo.

My dad is a hobby photographer. He speaks seldom and he speaks slow, but he tells stories through his photos. When I was little, he took so many pictures that my mom gave up fitting them all in albums and instead organized them into paper bags with labels. I loved (still do) pulling them out and spreading the photos  over the living room floor.  I remember the days when he had set up his photo lab in the kitchen, and I waited patiently until he opened the door, invited me in and I sat next to him when he showed me the magic of images appearing on paper. My home is filled with my dad's photos - nature photos on the walls and photo stories of special events and everyday activities in albums. 

Today's morning was a bit busier than usual. Mimm went to gymnastic training, my hubby drove our middle daughter to the city, I had a cake to bake. A stick of butter softened on the counter overnight. Amazing how beating the soft butter and a cup of sugar, and adding eggs to the mixture combines it all into a smooth and soft cream. I look at it and think about calm, happy, light.

My dad is a calm person.  He has more patience than anyone else I have ever known. My one memory of him being a bit impatient was during my last year of high school, when I wanted to study in the living room and he wanted to watch soccer, instead of having an argument, he just huffed, unplugged the TV and carried it to his bedroom. The second time to make him frown and shake his head was when Mimm, being small and not speaking clearly, cried because he had peeled a banana from the wrong end.  I have never in my life heard dad yelling at anyone, or seeing him being bad tempered, or hurrying anywhere. He always has time. He starts his mornings early with a cup of coffee. I remember when I was younger, my dad used to grind the coffee beans with an electric coffee grinder. The soft buzzing of the machine and smell of freshly grounded coffee woke us up softly on the weekends. 

I ate my breakfast while baking the cake. Too many things on the kitchen counter left no room for the flour bag. I washed my little red teapot. It's roundness and redness of it contrast with the falling snow outside. Seeing the read and thinking of cold, I change my mind. Instead of adding cherries to the batter, I take frozen raspberries. Raspberries are from our countryside. Wild raspberries, a gift of nature.

My dad is a man of nature. When we are in the countryside, he wakes up first and walks for hours before others have breakfast. On some days he can go for several walks, on other days he can stay in the garden and watch birds and bugs. He is a hunter. Not the kind who hunts for sport, fun and pride, but one who brings food to his family and at other times, cleans the forest and feeds the animals during cold winters. He hasn't shot any animals for years, but the others still take him along when they go to the forest and share the meat with him. I believe that the long walks and fresh air have helped my dad keep a straight back and make it hard to read his age from his face.

Before mixing the flour and raspberries in, I prepare the pan with a baking paper, take out the last ingredient, a cutting board and a sharp knife. The cake wouldn't be perfect without some white chocolate in it. Chocolate is sweet.

My dad is sweet. He has always been trusting, kind and supportive. I had friends who felt they had to prove something to their fathers. Even as successive adults they still felt that they were not god enough for their fathers. I had friends who were afraid of their dads because of punishments and harsh words. My dad has allowed me to make my choices, learn from my mistakes, celebrated my successes. He has been there whenever I have needed help. One cold snowy winter, when I was pregnant with my second child, and I had to go to a doctor with my firstborn, I pushed the carriage through the snow, worried, tired, wind throwing wet snow into my eyes, and suddenly my dad appeared next to me. He had seen the snow, remembered about the doctor's visit, hopped on the bus to come to my place, seeing the closed door he had simply followed us fast. My dad. 

On our living room shelf: My dad with Mimm about 7 years ago.

While the cake was in the oven I wrote this slice to celebrate my dad.

Today is my dad's 80th birthday. 

80!

Happy Birthday!

My mom was in a newspaper

A whole page about my mom was published in a weekly teacher newspaper. The only teacher newspaper in Estonia. The title is: Fifty Years as a Kindergarten Teacher. My mom. How cool is that?

This morning I read the article online before going to school, and during my first break hurried to buy the paper. I paraded around the school with it. I posted the article on Facebook. I am so happy that she was noticed and now people can read about her.

About a month ago my mom called and said that a journalist had called and wanted to meet and ask what she thought about changes in kindergartens over the years. Originally it was supposed to be just an opinion story. After meeting my mom and hearing her stories, the journalist found that a personal feature story would be more interesting.  My mom tells stories with a twinkle in her eyes and a healthy laughter in the end. The journalist included my mom's story of how a guinea pig had escaped from a cage during her demonstration lesson and mom ended up climbing on a chair and screaming from top of her lungs. My mom is also honest and doesn't hide her opinion when things aren't right. Over the years the duties and paper amount have increased immensely in for Estonian kindergarten teachers, but their rights and pay don't match the demanding workload. She said so to the journalist and it was included in the article.

My mom retired last fall after fifty two years of work. She will be seventy next year. She has spark. She is living her life fully: meeting friends; going to theatre at least once a month; exercising in gym twice a week; visiting her brother in the country side every weekend; taking long daily walks; reading, reading, reading. (I haven't been able to convince her to write yet, but I am working on it.) 

My mom.

Awesome!

create your own slice - happy

More than two hundred slices to read every day during March at Two Writing Teachers.

Yesterday after school my to-do-list almost suffocated me. I fought back, vanishing tasks one by one. Giving up my weekly gym lesson was a mild sacrifice. Today, when I had my planning period, the sunshine spelled 'take a break' on my window. I took the hint. Escaping school grounds made me feel ridiculously free and happy. I may have appeared walking respectfully but inside I had a little child joyously skipping, noticing and greeting the world around me.


Break, planning period
I love break
Choice, go outside
I love choice
Idea, leave school
I love ideas
Sun, bright and warm
I love sun
Birds, chirping and tweeting
I love birds
Walking, down hill
I love walking
Bookstore, place to go
I love bookstore
The Goldfinch, Donna Tartt
Book love
Happy


Wishing everyone some sunshine and a break from the ordinary!

Mark all as read

"To slice or not to slice. That is the question," Mary says out loud facing her laptop screen, realizing how far her question is from the philosophical dilemma of a Danish prince.

"Silly question indeed," she thinks, leans back in her chair, crosses her arms on her chest and surveys her classroom. 

Mary had been so sure of herself this year, when she started the monthly writing challenge. Three years of Tuesday practice, and recently added Saturday writing, had improved her writing muscle way more than the weekly exercise in gym had impacted her abs and biceps. Enthusiastic, prepared, playful, and encouraging to others she had joyfully written her first post on the first of March. And she had had a good start. She had her ideas ready the night before, she wrote during the writing workshop and her planning periods, she wrote fast with minimal hesitation, she published before she left school, and had time to read and comment other slices at home. She had many slicers on her bloglovin reader, and she made sure to comment on several newbies every day. "Yay, yay, yay" the imaginary crowd cheered to her.

Now, on Wednesday, two hours after school finished, Mary sits and stares at the screen, looks at the pile of student work, makes every effort to ignore the mess on the shelves, flips the Literature Circle book to see how far she has to read for tomorrow, hides her unfinished conference presentation notes in her laptop case, acknowledges the blinking reminder in her brain to update her planners and assessments on Managebac system, lets the worry over MAP test poke her just a bit, and dreams of the dinner her husband promised to cook.

"Fine, I'll slice. But it's going to be short," she starts typing, "But on my bloglovin reader I have to press 'mark all as read' button on the toolbar. Sorry, friends. Forgive me for not being there to listen to your stories today." 

Mary story 1

Mary story 2