Publishing party

       Who wouldn't love the  excitement on kids' faces when they come to the classroom and see the snacks on the table. The carrots and cookies were there for a reason. We had a picture book publishing party.

The students had a choice to read their books out loud themselves or let me read. I love reading the student writing out loud, playing with the expression, making the characters come alive.
Pride and joy, a bit of timidness, all mixed together, when the authors introduced their creations or heard their own story with my voice. A fox and a pink beast, a bear saving animals from a forest fire, ants on an adventure, space dogs, mermaids and sharks, race cars, a panther and camels, fish escaping from the belly of a big fish, purple sheep and volcanoes - we got to know new characters.
Seeing the listeners as attentive and engaged as with any read aloud made me smile.

The student had shared their stories with their parents during the student-led conferences already. This party was for us, our small writing community, safe and with treats. Next week we will get together with Grade 1 who also recently published their stories.  Sharing and celebrations matter to writers.

Today is a publishing party here too. Writing a slice of life for 31 days in a row is a magnificent reason to celebrate. Finding time to write on busy days, not quitting, sticking mostly to writing narrative slices form my day - I am happy. I played less than previous years, the texts are mostly with similar structure, I didn't improve my writing quality as I had wished, I wasn't as light and humorous as I had planned, I did minimal revision, but this is ok. I have collected meaningful moments from school and home, showing what matters in my life, and looking back I can see what a wonderful month March was. Reading other slices touched the strings of heart and inspired. And every day when you, my dear reader, visited me and left a comment, your kindness made my world lighter and warmer.  Thank you!

 Let's celebrate! 

Day 31 of March Slice of Life Story Challenge

Huge thank you to the team at Two Writing Teachers for creating this opportunity and building such a caring and creative community!

What was the award for?

Day 30 of March Slice of Life Story Challenge

Some of you may remember how excited I was for my "one sentence' writer when he showed interest in writing. He wrote a sequel to his Polar Bear story and it's nicely displayed in the Library.
While the writing was improving, he had a continuous trouble with keeping his shoes on. Every single morning and after outside break I had to remind him to put his shoes on. I felt like a shoe police. He sometimes lied to me that he had no shoes. And every time I checked, his shoes were in his school bag. Once he refused to put his shoes on and decided to miss his lunch instead.
Why such a big deal about shoes? Why not let him walk around in the socks? Our school hallways are old and it's easy to get splinters. The cafeteria and bathroom floors are slippery. Just for his own safety he needs the shoes on. One morning, when he walked to the classroom, he stuck his foot forward as a hello to show that he had shoes on. Shoes on, shoes off, shoes on. The time of shoes off lessened.
After writing his Polar Bear stories, he made a picture book about ants who went on adventure when a dog knocked down their ant farm. He struggled a bit with writing and revising, but didn't give up. I felt he had shown the attitude of commitment and wrote him an award. Unfortunately he was absent during the assembly.
When he came back to school, I said I had an award for him and asked whether he knew for what, he answered, "For wearing my shoes?"
Has anyone ever heard of an award for wearing shoes?

When words go hiding

Day 29 of Slice of Life Story Challenge

You probably have seen:

61 everyday page titles
or
Daily prompts for each month of the year
or
365 words that inspire
or
52 week gratitude prompts
or
47 journal prompts
or
14 Days of courage
or
April love letters


Photo, scrapbook or journal prompts - there are plenty of ideas for more than a year.
You can write about people and places, things and thoughts, reading and food, questions and answers, not to forget writing about writing.
Walking down the memory lane adds writing ideas.
Lists can become to a rescue. Gratitude list is probably my favorite.
The day is 24 hours long. This should give plethora of slices to write about. Fine, you sleep eight hours, but then you could still have dreams to collect. I don't know about you, but I sometimes have more than one dream. Plus there are waking up moments in the middle of the night when thoughts invade the brain. Just grab a pen and write.

And during the month of March there have been more than hundred slices each day to inspire with topics and structures.

So how come that with all the possible ideas to write about the daily writing is a challenge?
I feel silly to sit down and stare at the white screen, write and delete, close the laptop and walk away, return and continue staring.

Could it be that the words go hiding on some days? I know they are there. For free. For everyone to use. My shelves are packed with words between book covers.
Is it their entertainment to hide and laugh at me seeing me fidgeting and frowning?
Are they offended that I have not written anything in my notebook?
Or they get hurt when I try to write in a hurry without giving them the time to flow and play?
Do they have favorites they prefer to help out?

With years it has become easier to find the words in the daily hide-and-seek writing game. Some of them are more forgiving on the busy days. Or maybe they just feel sorry for me after some time. It could of course be their loneliness that brings them to sit next to me. I wish to believe that some words are playful by nature and are ready to skip on anyone's keyboard.

What the words want most of all is your attention,  giving them a lot of time everyday, listening to them, playing with them, showing how valuable they are, appreciating each line they form.

When words go hiding, you can't give up and quit. Well, of course you can quit if you want to. But do you? Or would you rather get started and trust that the words will come?

a bookspine poem with e-books

Day 28 of March Slice of Life Story Challenge

I thought of skipping writing a slice today. The thought crossed my mind when I was reading school's self study standard B7, the lunch time had already passed, I had three more sections to read, I felt I was getting an allergic reaction to all the criteria and evidence and sneezed five times in a row, there was a likelihood of missing my train, and I couldn't see the writing time fitting neither before making dinner nor after the dance lesson in the evening.

What a silly idea to skip writing with only four days left of the March Slice of Life Writing Challenge. I realized this when I had sat down in the train (after a very brisk walk through the old town, the sun and movement making me hot, forcing me to unbutton my coat, so the flapping wings of the coat making me look like a large black bird), calmed my breathing, and took out a small book of vignettes a friend gave to me, looked at the colorful teacup and read the sweet note my other friend gifted to me, still felt the after taste of a halva and sour cream cake a third friend had made for me. Self-study aside the day had had so many great moments - the birthday hugs and wishes, and the fact I had caught the train.

My plan was to create a small book spine poem. The only problem being that I couldn't find enough English books at home.  At least not the ones I could stack up. My Kindle hosts several books. Screen shots and cropping make up the e-book poem making process. This is the best I was able to create between the dinner and a dance lesson. Not perfect but enough for a day when I thought of skipping writing.

Love you all, my dear readers. I appreciate your visits and comments.

Book covers used for this poem. Most of them I have read earlier. Still Writing and Make Just One Change are from this month. Doesn't our reading shelf tell a story about us too? You can see more of my bookshelf on Goodreads.

Birthday

Waking up on a birthday morning nothing has changed but a number.
I am still in my body. Ten toes to wriggle, two arms to stretch, two eyes to splash with cold water.
No new wrinkles nor aches.
No new wisdom either.
I'd like to think that sun shines today for my birthday. Yesterday it didn't.
Having a birthday on Sunday is special. Wouldn't it be great if you would always get a day off on your birthday? Staying home is a gift for me.
Having everyone home makes me happy.
Tulips and daffodils brighten up the living room
Left over cake from yesterday made great breakfast.
Google surprised me with a birthday greeting.


Yesterday I had my parents, sis, nephew and cousins over. Lots of food and laughter.
The children drifted off to different rooms. The adults nested comfortably on the three sofas in the living room.
"Stay in place," Mimm suddenly appeared on the doorway, 'Wait."
She had hinted earlier that there would be a surprise.
We waited, and soon four Mimm's friends, all dressed up, walked in with a plate, scissors, yellow yarn and an umbrella. The same group of fourth grade girls had won the schools Play Box competition with a funny parody of the mayor of Tallinn that had gone viral from one humor show on TV. 
Mimm turned on the music and the girls sang and acted with the seriousness of professional actors. The lead singer in the role of the mayor kept her double chin and stoic posture. The other girls butterflied around him, holding the umbrella, handing him the scissors to cut the yarn as if opening new places. They stayed true to the parody video. It was obvious why they had won the competition.
The adults in the room laughed to tears.

How did an 11-year old even come up with an idea like that? Or how did she manage to organize all the girls over on a Saturday? How did she get them in without anyone noticing? The last one we found out - the girls climbed in over a balcony! (This made me think that I should move Mimm away from her room if going in and out secretly is so easy.)

Honestly, this is the best surprise gift I have ever received in 44 years.

Celebrating: right now

Right now I am

::sitting on a kitchen sofa in my purple PJ-s, a laptop open in front of me, a glass teacup with raspberry flavored Oolong tea on a table close by, several cookbooks open next to it

::feeling wide awake and alive, my body stretched from the sun salutation and hair wet from the morning shower

::listening to the peaceful sleepiness of my household, and blue tits chirping outside my kitchen window
 
::trying to avoid any thoughts of school related tasks. The student led conferences are over (went well) and I still have three more days to read the whole school self study report analysis of ten different standards from eight different committees. (I'll start reading tomorrow)

::hoping to get the writing done before others wake up and the day gets busy

::planning in which order to make the Vietnamise salad, lentil pomegranate salad and salmon puff pastry pies for today's party

::thankful that my hubby did all the shopping yesterday, that my daughters baked almost into midnight to have less to do today, and that cocoa rum balls, Rice-Krispie treats and almond cheesecake are in the fridge already
 
:: looking forward to the arrival of my parents, sis, nephew and cousins, and the chit-chat and eating and walking (fingers crossed it won't rain)

::celebrating this calm moment on a  Saturday morning, the right now


*Previous "Right now" posts 



Writing as part of:
 
Day 26 of March Slice of life Story Challenge

Week 132: Celebrate this week

How to make happy

When the gray clouds hang low,
hiding the sun form your heart,
you could let the darkness wrap you,
get drunk with the self pity,
you can be selfish if you want to.,
if that's what you need.

It happens to many,
the not enough,
the too much,
the can't,
the lonely,
the lost.

If you think of it,
you are a mass of atoms,
a chemical compound.,
a complicated system.

Think again.
You are a miracle.

Now list all that is well:
your heart beating to a steady rhythm,
your body ready to walk and dance,
your senses enriching your experiences  
your mind keeping you sane.

You are alive, alive, alive.

Look at a delicate flower.
Tiny, pure, beautiful blossom of promise.
Take a bite of an apple.
Fresh, juicy, sweet taste of now.
Give a hug to someone.
Warm, soft, safe feeling of together.
Open a book.
Rich, inviting, mysterious connections across time.


You may borrow my list.
Or make your own.



*If anyone worries about me, don't. I had a moment of "nothing to write" today, a long to-do-list I didn't know where to start with, a plan that didn't exactly work, a grumpy almost teenager whining, so for a moment I let my guards down and silly thoughts and negative emotions crept close. I listened to my daughter, changed my plan, took small steps to tackle my to-do-list, flipped through my photos for inspiration and wrote what came to my mind. The sun isn't out yet, but it has to come eventually. If not today, then tomorrow, or next week.

student led conferences

Day 24 of March Slice of Life Story Challenge

The classroom looks horrid. All that I had left neatly ready for the student-led-conferences is messed up. The student writing - drafts, illustrations and picture books - are tucked between dictionaries, slid under the cupboards and thrown on a high shelf. The pattern blocks and wooden 3-D shapes are dumped on the floor, mixed up with tissue paper pieces and clay, Sawdust covers everything. The sofa is moved to a different corner. Overwhelmed with the hopelessness of cleaning it before the parents arrive, I sit on the floor and start sobbing.

The shaking shoulders and pulling a big breath of air wake me up. Realizing it was a teacher nightmare, I breathe out with relief. My phone shows that it's only 3:49 a.m and I have two more hours to sleep. The night continues on and off with some other bizarre dreams involving rain, mean shop clerks, strange streets, and a red haired witch. All of what provides a good laugh for my colleagues in the morning over a bowl of porridge and boiled eggs - free breakfast served at school.

Before nine o'clock I stand at my classroom door, smiling and ready to greet the first three families.
The classroom is ready. On the left, right next to the entrance, are tables with student writing. On the right is a round table with magnatiles, cards with line and angle vocabulary, and papers, pencils and dice for computation games, On the left side of the room I have two bookshelves turned around to hold energy posters on and above them, student-made musical instruments - banjos, panpipes, xylophones and  a zither - on top of them, and a chair with prisms, mirror, squares of various materials, and a flashlight for light demonstrations next to them. On the right far corner of the classroom is a sofa, in front of it a small oval table with books that students plan to read to their parents. In the middle of the room is another round table with I-Pads for showing the portfolios.
The students have half an hour in our classroom and then another half an hour to tour the school to visit the specialist classes.
When the families arrive, I give them the schedule, remind everyone that this is the student's show to share what they have learned and created, how they have learned, and how much they have improved.
I will be around to help out when needed.

I am so happy to say that all my students showed up, some with mom but most with both parents. One of the families signed up this morning and one arrived in the morning without registering, but this was ok, because what really mattered was that they found the time to be with their child.

The children - some spoke with confidence and pride, some suddenly became shy, some shared only half of what they had practiced yesterday, some wanted to speak more than the thirty minutes, some kept looking for approval from me, some asked the parents questions to check their knowledge of energy and geometry.

The parents - mostly smiling, some positively surprised, some asking more than the child was ready to share, some trying to teach the child instead of listening, some being attentive listeners, some nodding, some patting the child on the back, some getting excited to win a math game.  

I - mostly listened and observed, few times reminded what more the students could explain, described the sawing, drilling and hammering that happened while making instruments, helped out with some of the math vocabulary, thanked the students, thanked the parents for coming.

Being able to witness the children explaining what they do at school - the learners being in charge, the learners reflecting, the learners celebrating - makes my heart leap with joy.

a problem solved easily

Day 23 of March Slice of Life Story Challenge

I could see that N was upset. Sitting by herself at the lunch table, away from other girls, eyebrow tightly furrowed, she chewed on her chicken pieces. Third grade girl trouble. In all honesty, the sight of her sent me mental pictures of the upsetness escalating in the afternoon. Not something I ever look forward to, especially not today, when we had to practice for the student-led conferences.
"Is there something I need to know. Would you like to tell me something?" I checked before sitting down with my colleagues.
A head shake.
I have learned that with this little girl I need to be patient. Give her time and space until she is ready to talk.
After lunch, when everyone else returned to the classroom, they immediately continued from where they left off, pairing up, pretending being with their parents, explaining the energy posters,  trying out the musical instruments they built, demonstrating how light works, using magnatiles to show geometry knowledge, reading their stories and revealing their writing process, sharing their favorite books and thinking.
Where was N? Under a computer table. Obviously still not ready to talk.
About ten minutes later she came out, walked over to the math table, and started building with magnatiles.
"Ready to talk?" I touched her shoulder.
"Not yet," she replied without looking at me.
Another thirty minutes passed until she came to me.
We went out of the classroom and sat on a couch.
"When I was sitting on a bench outside, M. came to me and said that she didn't want to play with me because I was mean," N told me what had made her upset.
"I understand why you are upset. Did you try to solve the problem yourself?" I asked the standard question.
"No, because she ran off and then I was upset," N explained.
"How would you like me proceed now?" I let her to come up with the solution.
"You talk to M, and then we talk," she suggested.
"Ok. Go back to the classroom, I'll talk to M" I agreed to her idea.
When M is seated next to me, she looks up with expectant eyes.
"Do you know why you are here? Wat might be the issue that happened outside and got N upset?" I asked her.
A head shake.
When I share N's side of the story, M listens, not showing any emotions.
"Might this be true?" I asked.
A nod.
"But when we asked her to play with us so we would have equal teams, she said no, that she didn't want to play with us. We couldn't play," M added to the picture of what happened.
"We have talked about choices. When someone does something that makes you upset, you can address the person or ask for help from the teacher. Making someone upset in return is not a choice. You know that, don't you?" I tilted my head and looked her in her eyes.
A nod.
"I will now invite N back here. Even when you have thoughts that are not positive, please let only the kind words cross your lips. Ok?" I smile.
Another nod.
When N and M were sitting next to each other, my hand was already on the door handle. I looked at both of the girls,  lifted my hands to my chest level and wiggled my fingers as if spilling fairy powder, "I will leave you out here. Make magic."
They both smile and nod.
In less than a minute I had two giggling girls walking to a classroom, grabbing their fresh picture books from a table and returning back to the bench.

Yes, it took more than hour until the problem was solved, but we successfully avoided the vicious "but-she-did" cycle. We have moved away from students blaming each other and looking for some sort of punishment form me. They have learned that it takes listening to both sides and then everyone having good will to acknowledge their part in the problem, apologize, forgive, leave the problem behind and move on. I wish all problems were solved so easily as the one today.

Oblivious

Day 22 of March Slice of Life Challenge

In the middle of our long school hallways, on my way down to get the student-led conference schedules from the printer, I meet the Music teacher. We are not the only ones still in the building two hours after school. We smile and remind each other to go home. Enough is enough. 

Driving home, I focus on the road, trying to empty my mind of all school related thoughts.

It's great to see lights on when I arrive home

Hubby is home before me, peeling potatoes already. 

After greeting him, I change for comfier clothes, nest myself on the sofa and try calling my youngest who is at grandma's today. Her phone is busy so I call on my mom's phone. Apparently my daughter is chatting with her friends. Mom shares about her trip to a library, retells parts of and recommends Pamela Druckerman's book Bringing Up Bebe and a book by Pavel Sanaev. By the time we finish, Mimm is ready to tell about her day in detail - about a movie making workshop she participates in, the writing exercises they did there, the cute guys who also participate, the cafe visit with granny, the new PJs she got, about the color of nail polish she plans to use in the evening. 

Not a minute after I hang up with my daughter, my sister calls.

I tell her about my long day, she shares what she made for dinner, we talk about the plans for the upcoming weekend.

"Did you hear about Brussels?" she asks me.

"No. What about it?" I ask.

"Are you serious, you haven't heard the news?" she sounds surprised.

"I just got home and haven't seen the news, yet. What happened? Not bombs," I ask, but even before she says it, I know the answer.

"Three bombs, two in the airport and one in the metro. Thirty dead," my sis reports, "I called our cousin as soon as I heard. She and her family are ok. They were in the airport's parking lot when the bombs went off. Lucky that they were a bit late and didn't enter the airport. They returned home."

While destruction and death shocked the capital of Belgium, my biggest worries were the unfinished reflections and the printer running out of paper. 

The people on the metro and in the airport started their day with plans and worries, and maybe with a funny tune on their lips, or a silly argument with their family, maybe they were annoyed by a coffee gone cold or someone stepping on their toes, maybe they were in the middle of reading a heart tugging book, maybe they were excited about finally going on a trip or meeting a long lost friend. And then. That was it.

Maybe it would be easier to be oblivious to what the news brings. Live the life without knowing. Wrapped in a bubble. But it wouldn't undo the evil, and sad, and unfair.
Scary to think that the so far seemingly peaceful and safe Europe experiences so much horror.

The mind struggles to understand how is it possible that there are people in the world who believe that killing others, many innocent people, could be a solution to anything.

*News about the Brussels attacks

At the end of the day

Day 21 of March Slice of Life Story Challenge

At the end of the day, when the kids have gone home, a lonely eraser and three markers on a table speak of activities from the day. On a tray lay folders with drafts of texts and illustrations for picture books. On top of a shelf a line of four I-Pads rests and charges to get ready for more reflection writing tomorrow.
At the end of the day I have to admit that not all goals were achieved. We have student-led conferences on Thursday.  The students have been writing reflections in various subjects. One would expect that it gets easier and the students become increasingly more independent. I have done what I can to support the students - discussing the purpose and audience of portfolios, giving guiding questions, showing reflections from previous years, listing the learning activities, suggesting the possible photos to include, providing time, even acting as a secretary for some.  Yet, even with breaking the process down to small steps, listing them on the board, I still received some reflections that were two lines. Thinking of those reflections of course I was a bit disappointed, and equal measure worried. Will they ever get their reflections done? What will the students show? What will the parents think?
At the end of the day, sitting down to reflect, I know that the students eventually have to take the responsibility, and if two lines is what they are able to write now, this is what they will show. Since it is not just a portfolio conference, and they have different stations to rotate, they will have ways to show their learning, creations, attitudes and growth.
At the end of the day it is important for me to turn my look form the undone to the done. Some students have been pouring words on the page, their voice loud with pride. Many have been willing to go back and revise their reflections, adding more detail about the what and how and why of learning, choosing their best, showing process, noticing improvement, highlighting ideas, knowledge and skills.
At the end of a school day I know I still have many hours of the day left. I need to turn off the worries of what might be tomorrow or on Thursday and focus on what is right now.  I have packed my schoolbag, ready to lock the door and go home. My family waits for me.

Finding spring

A bit more light in the morning.
Leaving my hat at home,
Taking off the gloves,
I pretend it's spring.
More snow. More ice. More cold.
Wrapping myself in a shawl, 
Drinking a hot cup of tea,
Staying in,
I wait for spring.
Where are the buds on the trees?
Where is the fresh green grass?
Where are the flowers?

"Mom, I saw snowdrops under the bush outside," my daughter brings news.

I rush outside.
Out from the small patch of unfrozen ground,
in the midst of last year's brown grass,
two tiny white heads look up.
Spring is here!

 Hello Spring!

A sweet slice for Saturday morning

Day 19 of March Slice of Life Story Challenge

 Whipping eggs with sugar, stirring in flour and cocoa, chopping pecans and chocolate, mixing, tasting, wiping some chocolate powder from his chin - my hubby makes a delicious sight to watch when he bakes. 

Since both of our baking princesses moved out, and the evening baking sessions became rarity, my hubby grabs for a whisk and spatula himself. 

On Thursday evening, when I was out enjoying a ballet, he and my youngest messed around in the kitchen to bake chocolate-pecan brownies with chocolate frosting. This was for us only to see, because yesterday evening Mimm, a backpack over her shoulders, a sleeping bag and a pillow tucked into a bag in her left hand, carried the collaborative sweet result to a sleep over at school.

Not a bite left at home, my hubby decided to fix the mistake. 

Not hard for you to guess what I had for breakfast this Saturday morning.

Have a sweet Saturday!

a teacher mistake

Day 18 of March Slice of Life Story Challenge

Writing conference gone wrong. All I wished was for A. to consider her audience and revise a bit of the story ending. From my point of view a dad killing his daughter and stuffing her into a doll is inappropriate for third grade readers. When A. heard my suggestion to change the ending, a shadow crossed her face, eyes darkened, mouth tightened, she threw her draft on the floor and stormed out of the classroom
I peek out of the door and see her sitting, hands crossed on her chest, on the couch in the hallway next to the classroom door. Checking that the other students either draw illustrations or revise their drafts on I-pads, I slide out of the classroom and sit next to A.
"I am not going to change my story. I like it. You don't like my story," A. announces crossly.
"It's not about whether I like or don't like your story. It has great characters, you speak to your reader, use active verbs. What I am saying is that the violence is not appropriate for children, especially when we plan to publish the story and share with the first graders," I explain.
"Then I am not publishing. I don't care. I like my story and I won't change it," A. turns away from me, indicating that she has finished talking or listening to me.

I leave her be. No point in pressuring a child who is upset. I know that no matter what I say or how I say falls to closed ears.
This incident is followed by A. trying to avoid going to French, ignoring her classmates during the break, walking past me with turning her head away. I feel asking her to change her story is the right thing to do, but I also know I made a mistake, a fundamental mistake in giving her the feedback. Maybe I can still fix the situation.

During the break she plays with a fourth grade girl, and later sits with her during the lunch. I can see how A. is melting slowly.
When the kids line up to go to PE, I ask A. whether she is feeling better.
She nods.

After PE, when others are settled comfortably to reading, I invite A. to the couch again.
"First of all I wish to apologize. I made a mistake. I should have started with what was great in your story. I started with what to change, and as soon as you heard it, your brain closed tightly, and you didn't hear anything else I said. May I, please, start over?" I say and wait.
A. visibly softens and with a high girlish voice says, "Ok."
"First of all you have written more than ever before, you have unique characters, You describe them with interesting detail like the crack in the doll's head, you use dialogue with verbs like scream and whisper, and you speak to your reader. Like Kate DiCamillo in our read aloud The Tale of Despereaux," I list her strengths as a writer.
'I was inspired by her," A. smiles.
I lift five fingers, "Can you see how many good things are in your writing? The only thing that worries me is the ending. You can keep it and when you are older you can publish it as it is now, but, maybe this time you can find a different way to achieve your result, maybe a witch uses some magic or a spell."
"Nah. I already now what I can write. I have a really good idea," A. says, stands from the couch, walks to the classroom, gets her I-Pad and writes.


Always start with the positive - a basic rule of a conference, yet I completely forgot it. It may have been because of being tired, or maybe because I thought that yesterday's positive comments counted today too. I am glad that I was able to open the conversation and make up my mistake.

Gifts

M. scoops up all the little pebbles with student names and returns them to the small basket, and plops a knitted blue owl on top of it. We have finished our round of "Good mornings" and now it's M.s turn to share. He quickly walks out form the class and returns with one large paper shopping bag and a smaller plastic shopping bag.
Everyone watches in anticipation. This week's sharing theme is "Gift week" and from other students we have seen a purple fan from Italy, a palm sized tree twisted from wire and decorated with amber leaves, a small purse with a miniature poodle inside, a  doll in Bulgarian folk costume, a fluffy brown stuffed puppy - gifts from parents, friends and relatives.
What has M. brought that takes two bags?

First he pulls out a paper and reads from it something that sounds like a wikipedia entry.
"A gift or a present is an item given to someone without the expectation of payment. Gift can refer to anything that makes the other  happy or less sad. Gifts are  presented on birthdays and Christmas. Gift is an expression of love or friendship."
As an ELL student he has prepared some texts at earlier times too.
With a big smile spreading over his face he opens the plastic bag and pulls out two pencils, one with black plastic moustache on top and the other one with red thick plastic lips on top.
"The boys will get the pencils with moustache and the girls will get the ones with a mouth," M. explains. 
Others sit up straighter.
M. looks questioningly at me.
"You can give these out when we finish the morning circle," I answer him.
Has he misunderstood the sharing or is this a deliberate choice to give gifts instead of talking about them?*
He puts the plastic bag aside and reaches for the paper bag.
"My mom made chocolate cookies for everyone as a gift," he brings out a white cookie tin with Christmas ornaments on them. I nod, he opens the box, and soon we all have our mouths filled with home-made cookies.
While we eat, M. continues.
"This picture is for you," M. hands me a design of a flower in a pink frame.
"Thank you," I feel sincere gratitude for the interpretation of this week's theme.
The bag seems bottomless.
M. pulls out two paintings in a wooden frame.
"These are my gifts to the class. These are my paintings," he shows a colorful picture of a city with a dinosaur in the middle and another one of  boats floating on waves.**
"Wow" the class says in unison.***

* Mom later told that they talked about the theme at home and decided to make gifts.
** We know M. is an artist. He has shared some of his incredible art pieces with us before.
***In a primary classroom you have charts and student work on all walls- the math , the reading, the writing, the unit of inquiry- and sometimes it feels like the classroom should have more than four walls, and there isn't exactly space for paintings. I decided to empty one wall between two windows, called our school's handyman, and now the paintings are the first thing you see when you enter the door.

Found poem in the comments

Day 16 of March Slice of Life Story Challenge

It is funny how we read our world.

We always want so much and want it now,

And, sometimes, there is only so much we can do.

I would like to join you on the search for a day of no plans,

Turn the corner and see the possibilities blooming.

These unexpected moments, I believe, are gifts.

Take time for the small moments.

Those are the moments we will remember –

Simple, pure, and connected

Go with the right side of things.

It makes life so much grander.

You have to do what makes your heart happy.

I'm just happy to be writing.

This daily writing,

That day to day of seeing and living,

Helps us

To notice the good in our lives,

Be more mindful and aware.

Would sure like to sit by you anywhere and tap away on the keys.

Sitting together over a red teapot seems very good to me.

It is no small thing to give yourself the time for writing.

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Thank  you Elsie, Michelle, Judy C, Margaret Simon, Carol Varsalona, Andrea, Clare, Linda, Tara, Amy Rudd, Jennifer Laffin

reality check

Day 15 of March Slice of Life Story Challenge

Smooth and glamorous, my hubby and I lightly flow across the dance floor.  Imagining dressed in a romantic gown I feel like a fairy tale princess in a ballroom. Quick step music lifts us off the ground and we are eternally young.

We pass a window and I get a glimpse of an awkward middle aged couple dancing in a warn out school gym. Pop. The magic is broken. Reality kicks in. Who am I kidding. Yes, we know some steps, yes, we remember some routines, yes, we have practiced, but it's nothing like what you have seen in a ballroom. I think our teacher has to be permanently on painkillers to endure how far off we are from what she knows is a beautiful dance. We are like malfunctioning characters. When we remember toes, knees and hips, we forget the frame. When we get the frame and the steps right, we don't let the music bother us and dance to our own beat. It seems that we have limited dance memory and something is always erased when new information is added.

But whose there to judge? We are not competing. We are not aiming for a trophy. We are not planning to show our dance to anyone. 

Dancing, dancing, dancing. The two of us. For the fun of it. Let me live in my fairy tale.

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Like with dancing I am millions years off from what I wish I could do. And again, whose here to judge?

All I write are small snippets of my life, usually raw, composed in the head while walking to a train station or chopping carrots or washing dishes; typed between a dinner and evening news; rarely revised because revision time is luxury. I can honestly say that I don't have writerly agonizing pain from searching for the perfect idea, nor hour long battles with my inner critic, nor torturous headaches from chiselling delicate words. I can't afford it if I want to show up every day.

I am not trying to change the world. I don't strive for a Pulitzer prize.

I am not writing a book, not a short story, not even an article. 

My writing is for me and the small circle of friends in a writing community. My words send small ripples. Maybe a smile, a thought, an encouragement, a bit of inspiration.

Writing, writing, writing. For the fun of it. Let me live my creative life.

World has plenty of room for dancers and writers of all kind. 

My favorite question

Day 14 of Mach Slice of Life Story Challenge

What are you reading?

This question is sweet like chocolate, fresh like spring breeze, exciting like unwrapping presents. 

The books read and recommended are like invisible emotional threads connecting people. I love to hear what people read and gladly reveal what is on my bedside table. I passionately share my love of reading with the people around me.

"I know this is impossible, but I still wanted to check, one of the students said that you have read all the books in the Literature Circle cupboards," a young colleague asked one day.

"I wish, but no. I have read many, but not all. I guess it is like kids believe that librarians have read all the books in their library," I smile, feeling flattered by the idea. 

I wish I could I read them all. I wish I could read all the books recommended by my friends and daughter and Goodreads and newsletters. Knowing the impossibility of the task I carefully choose and select what to put on my to be read pile. I recently added 15 new books to my Kindle. Oh, how challenging it was to decide which to start with. I have read six of them already. I'll share three

Surprise structure:

This was unexpected. Through encyclopedia style entries the author shares her memories, emotions, beliefs, observations, and life as she sees and experiences it.

"It is so much easier to not do something than to do something"

"We use these defining truths to help us stay in lines of ourselves. We think we have to hold on to these labels, we feel comfortable holding on to these labels, but it turns out the labels are removable, you can peel them right off."

~ Amy Krouse Rosenthal

About writing:

An invitation, an encouragement, a reminder - a book you can return to, open anywhere and think along, and when you close it, you open your journal and write.

"Our tender hopes and dreams, our joy, frailty, grief, fear, longing, desire - every human being is a landscape."

"Anchor yourself somewhere - anywhere - on the page. You are committing, yes - but the commitment is to this tiny corner. One word. One image. One detail. Go ahead. Then see what happens next."

~ Dani Shapiro

Love, books, and life:

I didn't know what to wait from this book. It surprised me. The choices, the longing, the search for love and life, the varied characters, tango, and all the books given out to heal the souls kept me reading even past my bedtime.

"He wanted her to sense the boundless possibilities offered by books. There would always be enough. They would never stop loving their readers."

"The world's rulers should be forced to take a reader's licence. Only when they have read five thousand - no, make that ten thousand - books will they be anywhere qualified to understand humans and how they behave."

"You have to dance the things you cannot explain," Pedru said under his breath. "Ans you have to write the things you cannot express," the old novelist thundered."

~ Nina George

What are you reading?

happy mom moment

When my daughter is on the dance floor, I have eyes only for her. Graceful and beautiful, magnificent and powerful - her dance takes my breath away.

Yesterday my daughter participated in the Estonian Championship in Standard dances. My hubby, my youngest daughter, my sis and I had come to support her.  The semi-final of Youth 2 had 10 couples. Since she has danced with her new partner only for seven months, we didn't know what to expect. We rejoiced when they got to the finals.

Three hours to wait before the finals. We watched other semi-finals: the little kids, juniors, seniors, youth, adults. Slow waltz, tango, Vienna waltz, foxtrot, quickstep. Again, and again and again. The music is loud, mixed with the clapping and cheering. The light and the colors, the movement can make the head spin. Sitting for hours on a bench during a dance competition tests patience and tortures the body. The whole event is a mixture of high positive emotions and the wish to escape.

When my daughter was back on the dance floor with five other couples for the five final dances, every fiber of my body is filled with hope and worry and admiration. Mostly admiration. Dance is a sport. Hours and hours of practice, sweat and pain, to leave an impression of flying to the music. Five short dances doesn't seem like much, but it takes a lot of strength and stamina. And when the dances are over, the couples smile and bow, walk off the floor, reach for the water bottles, wipe sweat from their necks and breathe deeply. They have done their best and now all is left is to wait for the results.

When all finals are over, everyone awaits for the award ceremony.
The six finalist couples march to the floor. The hosts start announcing the results from the sixth place.
I can feel my heart pounding, I am ready for her to be the sixth but hope for better. The sixth place was not her, the fifth place was not her. My heart speeds up and smile spreads. She has already done way better than she hoped for. Fourth place. Not her. Third place - her name is announced. She and her partner beam with happiness.
My daughter and her partner won bronze medals in Estonian Championship U21 group for Standard Dances. My heart waltzes.

With a different partner she got a fourth place two years ago, and then they won the championship in 10-dances. They danced for one more year and then her partner decided to stop dancing Standard and focus on Latin only. For more than half a year my daughter was without partner. She could have stopped. She did not give up. She did not stop dancing. My daughter has impressed me over and over with her determination and dedication.

Looking for a meaning

Day 12 of March Slice of Slice Story Challenge

The sign informed me that pharmacy would open at 9:30. I checked my watch. It was 9:05. My great plan for a quick run to the pharmacy before breakfast did not happen. I walked back home.
After breakfast I had a second try.
The snow and ice stubbornly hold on to to the ground. I watch where I step not to slip and fall.
On the other side of the road I see my daughter's former teacher doing the same, only walking the opposite direction.
We wave and I am ready to move on, when in a split second, I turn and cross the street.  We used to go for a walk sometimes. We liked to talk about school and children. We haven't seen for a long time.
I saw her in a local newspaper because she had received an award for being an awesome teacher.
We hug. I congratulate her. We chat of school and children. This year she switched schools. From a large mass production school to a small parent initiated school.  She loves it. We say our goodbyes and go in our separate destinations.
I saw he last night when she went to visit my neighbor, her childhood friend. I saw her waving to my neighbor's husband who drove to the driveway, then lifting a bottle of wine in her right hand and waving it with a huge smile towards my neighbor's kitchen window.  Exuberant and happy were the words in my mind.

Walking back I think of  this little slice of my life, and wonder what is the meaning of it. I find three.
It could have irritated me that the pharmacy was closed when I first went. Now I took it calmly. I should mention that when I got to the pharmacy, I discovered that I had left my wallet at home and had to go back for a thrd time. None of it made me upset. Kind of good to know I can keep my calm.
Yesterday I wrote about Friday night choices of going out or staying in. At some point in my life I used to be sad that I didn't have a busy social life, nothing happening on Friday. The little scene that I had seen from my window last night did not make me jealous. I was able to smile and then return to my sofa. In this part of my life I can handle school and family, some after school educational events, and occasional days out but friends are a bit neglected. I accept it. You have to make choices because it is impossible to fit everything in. I think it was Clare Landrigan who introduced me to the concept of rotated neglect.
The pharmacy being closed at first altered my plans. Thanks to this I had a very positive encounter. This unexpected meeting left me with light and smiling feeling.

When you choose a slice to write, there are many that go unwritten. I wrote a celebration of my unwritten slices here.

I hope your Saturday brings something unexpected and positive to you.