Teaching fifth grade means that I must prepare twenty-six children to write as if they were prolific and published authors.  The writing test is coming.  I hear its heavy, rubber boots stomping down the hallway.  This test looms over me and follows me around.  It flicks me in the head and taps me on the shoulder.  It waits under my bed to wake me in the middle of the night.   Pure writing comes from that magical place in our brains that knits the imagination into the written word.  The results are cable-knit stories, beautifully crafted from brilliant minds.

I will digress to explain that the knitting metaphors are inspired by my neighbor and dear friend.  She knits like a crazy woman-very impressive.  She can knit in any given situation.  I have seen her knit and carry on a conversation during pedicures and while watching T.V.  I think she can knit and juggle eggs simultaneously.  I realized that the gift of writing is just as fluid as her skill with those knitting needles.

It is a sick moment when watching my friend knit makes me obsess over my writing instruction.

I love when children can describe an event with velvet words and small pieces of their hearts splattered on the page.  There is nothing more sublime than an entire class writing with the world blocked out.  The cadence of pencils scraping on paper is calming.   This point in writing instruction has proven to be my “happy place”.  I scan the dimly lit room.  I see small heads feverishly looking up words in their thesauri.  They highlight, use editing marks, and discuss plausibility and wording.  I hear angels singing.  Somewhere, someone is playing a harp.

Teaching writing is a purely subjective arena in education.   I have been in as many writing seminars as years I have been alive.  Each presenter has contradicting ideas of what effective writing looks like. I am expected to bring back sage words of writing advice to the staff.  But, it seems that all I can muster is to encourage teachers to do what feels right.

The non-negotiable area of instruction is GRAMMAR.  I have always been an avid writer.  The grammar part is just a hindrance to me.  In college, I remember being shocked out of my mind when my mythology professor gave me A’s for my essays.  In my confusion and delirium, I brought him my writing to make sure he had not made a mistake.  He told me my grammar was fine.  I kept wondering, “What about the commas, comma splices, and (EGADS) the elusive semicolon?”

At the ripe old age of forty-two, I realize that one reason I majored in Italian is because of the wisp of the wind grammar rules.  I could write an entire essay discussing the neurotic psychosis of Dante without using any punctuation!   I hit pay dirt!!

Back in the eighties, in high school-a conjunction TOOK THE PLACE of a comma.  (Notice, I used a comma and a hyphen-for emphasis.)   Now, we teach students to put a comma before the conjunction ALL OF THE TIME. The comma can be redundant when paired with a conjunction.  Yes, so this blog is specific and grammar laden.  Sorry, but it is just bugging me.

What is the ‘Oxford comma’?

I haven’t sent the essays to my A.P. friend.  I believe I need to drink chamomile tea and do two hours of Yoga before this happens.  She will red-pen it like a seventies teacher with a tight bun and polyester pants.  I have waited because I found a split infinitive in my essay today. I bet there are others hiding from me.   I don’t want her to see my split infinitives and dangling modifiers!!  I feel so exposed.

When I teach writing, I try to make the writing experience somewhat pleasurable.  I know grammar is important and I will succumb to the mafia comma rules.  I will even teach them to my class.  There may be a moment when I encourage them to assess whether the comma is necessary.  I believe this is considered literary license.

My students are smart.  One of my biggest pet peeves is beginning a sentence with “and”.  Well, C.S. Lewis and Tolkien do it!  And that is what you get when your 5th grade class is well read. Humph!

Until the test, I will focus on keeping their hearts in the writing while jumping through the grammar hoops.

I will teach writing, love my students and they will be fine.  (NO COMMA!)

K

Have you seen or read the Alone in the Wilderness story? It is about Dick Proenneke who retired in 1967 and decided to build a log cabin in Alaska.  He lived alone in the log cabin for 30 years.  His only companionship was the wildlife thumping and scurrying by each day and frigid night.  My smallest child watched the entire PBS special last year.  She was amazed by the fact that he never went to the grocery store.  From time to time, he sent his friend, Babe, to procure some food items and building materials.  Other than that, he lived off of the land.

As day three of the official Georgia “snow-in” begins, I think of Dick in his cabin.  What would he do if he were stuck in Suburbia?

I thought of the pictures of the grocery section of Target my friend posted on FB:

Apparently, there was a mad rush for bananas, onions, and all bread (except for pumpernickel and rye).  I guess in our fear of starvation, we can’t ignore our taste preferences.  It also made me wonder if there is some amazing recipe that calls for those ingredients.  Banana and onion casserole with a breaded topping?

Yes, I spent much time at the grocery store on Sunday afternoon.  I could not find bananas.  I don’t even like bananas.  But as soon as I saw there were none, it became a quest of some sort.   When I began asking around, no one I knew was able to find bananas.  But, someone has to have them!

I remember when my mother-in-law lived with us.  She had a banana obsession.  She would easily buy two huge bunches so we wouldn’t run out.  One bunch was green and the other would have to be ripe and ready to eat.  My theory is that the elderly community has bought them all.  That is the only hypothesis that makes sense.  See, I have all of this time on my hands and I must have answers!

My teacher friends and I are now complacent in the potential of having to make up 5 days.   The roads keep icing over and the temperatures won’t give us a good chance of a thaw until Friday afternoon.  So what do we do?  I got an email from, The Avenue, our local outside mall.  It told me they were closed so basically, I can’t go shopping.  My gym emailed me and encouraged my  not to drive on the icy roads. Nothing. We do nothing.

The most resourceful nothing-doers are the teenagers.  I’m amazed at the ready-made adventures they create on a mere moment’s notice.  They sled, walk, take pictures, download 42 movies on Netflix (and watch them all), and make every conceivable sweet, baked item left in the house.  I am waiting for them to find the Halloween cupcake mix that sits lonely and unloved in our pantry.  I believe they could all survive on a remote island with only a Dance Party Wii game and cheese and crackers to keep them alive.  They don’t even need to shower while they are stuck in suburbia.

The even smaller people must be dragged in from the wilderness.  They have this Dick Proenneke-like tenacity to build the perfect snow walls, houses, etc…  I thought my neighbor’s child was  fending off a grizzly yesterday as she searched for sticks and other natural building materials.  They tried with all of their might to sled on a trash can lid.  I took one step outside, felt the wind whipping in my face and went back in.

I believe my unease has been in the uncertainty of the days.  So, like Dick, I’ll take each day as it comes.  The snow will thaw and we will be back to our routines.   I’m learning that each minute in our lives cannot be planned.  When I let the stress and worry go, life happens.  Suddenly the impromptu pizza parties and neighborly visits occur!  Unplanned fun…what a thought.

When my control freak rears her nosy little head, I ignore her.  She isn’t happy when I do this. I tell her not to worry, she will have plenty to do next week.

Enjoy the day.

K

I love the shuffle option on my Ipod. Somehow, it decided that the theme to Rocky followed by I am Woman Hear me Roar would be a good combo. Yes, I know this is hokey. There are some days we need something to motivate us.

Watch how Rocky begins his morning jog. His Italian-American hair flowing in the wind. His snug gray sweat suit keeping him warm. Notice how his sweatshirt stays tucked into his pants, amazing, simply amazing. People calling his name as he passes his neighborhood. Suddenly, the entire city is following him and cheering him on as he approaches the steps. Children have left school and it seems that everyone left their houses and jobs to follow him. I also believe time stopped. What about the steps? Can he do it? YES!!!  Rocky does it!

Rocky is one of my favorite movies.  One of the reasons I love it is because Sylvester Stallone wrote the script. He then insisted on starring in the movie. This underdog of a movie and screen writer became a small part our  cinematic history. What motivated him in 1976 to do this? (Note, I am referring to the first Rocky movie, only). Was there a teacher who encouraged him along the way? Hmmm…..

Teachers hold the key to motivating students to take that extra step (pun intended). When I am teaching something difficult and it seems like I am getting NOWHERE, and the tile floor is sucking me in; I go to my mental Rocky clip. That ONE child needs all of us cheering her on. She leads the way as we follow behind calling her name!

Ok-So another Italian-American reference. TEACH:TONY DANZA. I was sucked into this show. My favorite episode is where he makes all the kids sanitize their hands. He even promises extra credit if they keep their sanitizer bottles by the end of the semester. Now, this is motivation! He cries quite a bit and makes me feel validated  for a few minutes. He teaches some things incorrectly. He doesn’t follow the rules because they don’t make sense. He was called to the front office because he didn’t sign in correctly.  There were many times, I turned my head and cringed a bit. However, I kept watching because he kept showing up. He continually self-reflected  and sought out help.

Today, I was motivated all day. I was motivated to sing in the car with my kids. I was motivated to clean out my closet and donate purses and shoes. I was even motivated to sit at my computer and write this blog. I began thinking and wondering what is the spirit of motivation? More specifically, what does that mean in education?

When I wrote my thesis, I attempted to quantify student motivation. I was told that motivation could not be measured in numbers. I did it anyway. The work was accepted and noticed. We all know when kids are motivated in our classrooms. They work independently. They ask for guidance not answers. They evaluate their work and feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. Rocky? YES!!!

I often think of that one teacher who motivated me. I had to write a response to a story we read about the Vikings. I decided to write it from the Vikings’ perspective. How they were tired, hungry, and rank. That teacher asked me to “read the essay to the class”. She encouraged me to refine my writing because I had “something”. She noticed me. SHE NOTICED ME! From that day forward, I wrote and shared on a regular basis. The high-school invisibility cloak was removed.

Last night, I spent a wonderful evening with dear friends. We rang in the New Year and talked to all hours of the morning. I was encouraged to made lasagna! I  learned that too much flour in white sauce is bad.

The White Tree is packed away and has begun  the annual holiday decor hibernation.   The remnants of the festivities are packed neatly in boxes. The crazy fiber optic tree is gone from our window.

I am ready for this year. I’m motivated to run my steps.

Happy New Year.

K

I have been inspired to begin this blog in order to reach out to other educators who guzzle coffee, keep all hours planning, and sacrifice time to be a relevant presence in the classroom. Maybe this can be a place for lesson ideas-failures and successes. Of course, there will be discussions of kids vomiting on us and random lice checks.  I find that without the humor of the job, it can be quite a dark place that I often compare to Dante’s Inferno. I just wonder which level he would put us? I spent 4 years studying Italian; one of which was in Inferno. So, many of my DANTE references are part of my literary DNA. There may also be some Shakespearian analogies. It would be impossible to blog about education without these inspirations.

I have been in education for 10 years. Maybe this is the catalyst for my interest in blogging. I also feel that my middle-aged status puts me in a place where I feel what I say and feel has more validity than it did ten years ago. This is not to say that I do not second guess each and every move I make in front of all of those little faces. I’m just not sure that the “non-educator” has any clue what we do every day. If you think about it, education is one area in which most people North America have experience. Either they attended school, have children in school, or are part of the misunderstood world of education.

The title of the blog came to me during the days where I wish I were a mere few words or numbers sporadically scrawled on a dry-erase board. These characters are easily erased and re-written. As a teacher, we are continually erasing what we do and “re-writing” the plan. Some days, I wish that I could seek refuge under my desk with the lights out. I haven’t done this, yet. The funny thing is that I think most of my friends in the school would know where I am trapped.  The search and rescue team would find me clasping a mug of coffee in one hand and my new progressive glasses clutched in the other. I would be buried under an avalanche of colorful pens, sticky notes, and rubrics. I would surely be muttering something about my lesson plans not being color coded and the fact that I didn’t get lunch count in on time.

The thing is that with most passionate teachers, we LOVE what we do. The fascination of how those minds work mixed with the onus of being responsible for reaching each child can be enough to keep us up at night. When a lesson goes bad, it is like a stale comedian drowning. We need to know when to stop and quit beating the rotting horse. The comatose stares are usually a clue that a new plan is in order. We need to know when to re-group and lose all of our pride. I assure you that as soon as we feel that we have done a good job, something will smack us back to reality.

I have been very lucky to have had amazing parents and administrators who have been part of the community necessary to “raise a class” each year. I have had powerful mentors and other teacher friends who took me under their wings.

This blog is not meant to be a complaint forum or a place where we discuss specific children, since we must honor confidentiality. If you are a teacher, what are your hopes, dreams, or concerns? Are you planning on a big project? What gets you out of bed on a cold, Monday morning to go to work?

K