4-4-4 #SOLC25 23/31

This evening, after several false starts (possibly because I’m still a little tired from whatever illness got me down yesterday), I decided to do a 4-4-4: write about four things within four feet of you for four minutes. I set the timer & wrote, then went to have dinner with the family. Now I’ve spent another minute editing/ tidying. (And probably another minute writing this.) It’s a pretty good way to get writing when I’m feeling stuck. Special thanks to Elisabeth Ellington who used this form earlier this month and to whomever mentioned Saffy’s Angel (maybe as a book her mother liked? Can’t remember.)

***

On the other side of the bookshelf, Mr. 14 is on the computer. What is he doing? I don’t know. I do know that earlier today he let me add him to my Google Classroom to check out a quiz I made. Then he commented on my quiz (“interesting, but hard”). He’s awfully fun to have nearby; one of the many reasons I appreciate having his computer in our main living area.

My feet are up on the arm of the love seat in front of me. Just beyond them, our black lab mix, Max, is snoring lightly. He prefers being near me whenever possible; even better if he can be near me and in a soft space. If I stir, he’ll wake up, but for now, he sleeps peacefully.

Beside me on the couch are two blue yoga balls in a small mesh bag. They are calling me, reminding me that some mobility work will be good for my body, even if I’m not quite done being sick, even if I would rather just sit and read my new book, James by Percival Everett. It’s open and just next to the yoga balls. So far, it is amazing. I finished The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store just in time for book club on Friday night; that one was a slow read for me. Then, yesterday, I read Saffy’s Angel – a middle grade novel recommended by Elisabeth Ellington – because I spent most of the day in bed. It was a great half-sick lie-in-bed read. Last night I started James, and I’m tearing through it – making much faster progress than I did on The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store.

Time’s up.

When an English teacher is ailing #SOLC25 22/31

This is not the post I had planned for today. The plan was to write early, comment liberally (catching up on the blogs I’ve missed this week – so many) and take a nice long walk. Then, I was going to grade papers, maybe craft a little and generally be productive. Instead, I’ve spent most of the day in bed, sleeping off and on and generally feeling miserable. Super frustrating.

Since I’ve taken to my bed and am feeling sorry for myself, I’ve been thinking of Jane Austen – as one does. Have I caught a violent cold? I have not been coughing, so I don’t think so. Do I have a putrid tendency? I’m not 100% sure what that is, but I doubt that’s my primary ailment Rather, I find I have feverish symptoms and my head aches acutely. Oh! And I’m definitely languishing a bit, but my sleep brings me rest, not delirium, so no need to send for the apothecary… yet. Finally, while I am discontented at the moment, I do not fancy myself nervous, which is good because darling Jane has little patience with people’s nerves. Luckily, I am no fanciful, troublesome creature!

I will acknowledge that I am nowhere near as sick as Marianne Dashwood after the horrid Willoughby uses her so poorly, but I may be nearly as sick as Jane Bennet after she walked to Netherfield in the rain. Either way, I am missing a devoted sister to nurse me back to health. I shall have to send my sisters a letter to let them know that they have failed in their duty to attend to me in my time of need. Luckily for them, Andre has returned from his afternoon outing, and he is coddling me (a little), though no possets as of yet. Perhaps he is courting me. As a result, I suspect I will recover – though perhaps I will consult a physician to see if he might prescribe a trip to Bath. No doubt that would restore my good health.

Until then, I’ll settle for reading a good book in my own bath.

Say it again #SOLC25 21/31

Inspired by Sherri’s post with the same title. Things I say on repeat…
(And if you were here yesterday: I FINISHED THE BOOK!)

Good morning! You awake? Time to wake up! Hey, kiddo, if you don’t get up your brother’s going to get the first shower.

I’m leaving! Have a good day!

No, I don’t know who has the Chromebooks. Have you checked Richard’s room?

Books and notebooks out and open! Make sure you have a pen or pencil available.

You know where the pencils are. The pencils are where they have been all year. I’m sure you can find a pencil. Yes, that is where the pencils are.

Please make sure your phones are away. Headphones and air buds, too, please. Away means in your backpack. Your pocket is not a backpack. I see a few phones out. Make sure your phone hasn’t accidentally snuck into your hands. Phones are sneaky like that.

If the teacher writes it on the board… you should write it in your notebook.

Is anyone else hot or is it just me?

You can’t read and talk at the same time; that’s not how brains work.

Listen first, then move.

Ok, you know the drill: SLANT! Sit up, lean forward… look, even if you don’t ask questions you can nod your head and track me when I’m speaking.

Ok, but you need to be back in five minutes or less. Five minutes is reasonable.

No one else is hot?

Bye! Bye! Nice work today! Bye! See you tomorrow! Bye!

Hi! How was school? Has anyone walked the dog? Ok, I’m going to walk the dog. Did anyone feed the dog? Have the cats been fed?

No, dinner’s not for a little while. Try a healthy snack. It won’t be long.

Please make sure your dishes end up in the dishwasher. Do you have any homework? I’m just going to mark a few things. Please make sure that plate ends up in the dishwasher.

Goodnight, my love. See you in the morning.

Pressure #SOLC25 20/31

Thursday, 7:51 pm

Book club meeting tomorrow at 7pm. I’m on page 284 of 381.

Cheating Cheater #SOLC25 18/31

He was shamelessly cheating. While the “big boys” (my teens) and my spouse splashed around the small pool, calling loudly to each other, my cousin’s 7-year-old ducked underwater every time he heard the dreaded cry, “Marco!” Others might give away their position by replying, “Polo!” but he was no fool. You’re a lot harder to find if Marco can’t hear you.

Of course we called him on it, tickling him and dunking him. “You’re a cheating cheater!” my sons teased, and he didn’t deny it. Seven is the perfect age to check out what happens when you break the rules. Turns out, if you cheat long enough, we’ll change the game – and we’ll love you anyway.

***

After school, my child tells me that one of his teachers has accused him of cheating. “The worst part,” he says, “is that I did it: we wrote that section together – but only because we thought we were allowed to.” He takes a deep breath. “I tried to explain. I tried to tell him that we obviously thought it was ok because we used the exact same words. If I was trying to cheat I wouldn’t be so dumb about it, but he wouldn’t even listen.”

My son is upset, and rightly so. The idea that someone thinks you have intentionally been dishonest can be devastating. Worse, he likes this teacher and this subject; he’s worried about the ramifications of this incident.

“Will you write to him and tell him I’m not a cheater?” he asks. I counsel him to send an apology email, even though he’s still upset about the accusation itself. He pulls out his phone and shows me the email he’s already composed. “Is it good enough?” he asks. “Can I send it?” It is and he does.

***

We all knew that the 9th grade Mythology test was nearly impossible. Senior students recounted horror stories. “No one passes,” they assured us. “It’s killer.” I studied and studied, and worried so much that I made myself physically ill before the test. I vomited and got sent home at lunch.

My teacher announced to the class that what I had done was a form of cheating. She gave them the “easy” version of the test and “saved” the hard one for my return. Then, she told me that she assumed I had lied about being sick. I cried while I took the make-up test – which I aced, even though it was very, very hard. I’m still not sure if she ever thought of me as completely honest after that. I know that I never quite trusted her again.

***

I don’t know what to write to my son’s teacher, but I know what I want to say. I want to say, even if he did it, even if he intentionally did the wrong thing – and I don’t think he did – please remember that he’s a child, not a cheater. Please don’t do to him what my teacher did to me all those years ago.

I’ll find the words for the email, but before I do, I’m going upstairs to give my child an extra hug. I can’t change this particular game, but I’ll love him anyway.

27 #SOLC25 16/31

Twenty-seven. I have twenty-seven “This I Believe” essays to comment on, ideally before tomorrow morning. And that’s just for one class. It is 6:17. Wait, let me be clear: it is 6:17pm.

Y’all. This is not going to happen.

I would like to write “How did I end up here?” but I’ve been teaching too long to pretend I don’t know. These were due before March Break and I should have been done before I even left. But some people wanted extensions and some students were late, and I put things off, and here we are.

I would like to pretend that this is because our flight home was delayed yesterday, but I’ve been teaching too long to believe it. I was never going to get through these in one day. Getting home earlier would have made no difference.

I would like to think that the students know how they did or that it won’t matter to them or that this isn’t a big deal, but I’ve been teaching too long to fool myself about this, either. They want their essays back, with a grade.

The good thing about “teaching too long” is that I have learned to forgive myself for this. Am I a fast grader? Sometimes. Thorough? Pretty much always. Right now that has to be enough because there is little I would change about the past ten days, even knowing where I am right now. I loved my March Break – I loved travelling, seeing family, learning to scuba dive. I loved swimming, walking on the beach, and hanging out with my kids. I loved writing and reading in ways that were not completely focused on work (although anyone who knows me knows that I am pretty well always half-thinking about teaching). All of those bits – plus a few hours of lesson planning – mean that when the bell rings tomorrow morning I will be ready to teach again, focused and interested and excited for what each student brings.

After all this time, I’ve finally realized that teaching is an impossible job. There are not enough hours in the day or days in the week for me to learn and plan and teach and care and mark. I could work all day every day and still there would be more. In fact, sometimes the better I get, the more work I have to do. This doesn’t mean that I don’t feel guilty about work I haven’t finished, but it does mean that I handle it better, and I have a much stronger understanding that I am responsible for taking care of myself.

So here I am, reminding myself – and all the other teachers heading back to work – that it’s ok not to have everything done. Tomorrow, we will show up in all our imperfect ways, and the essays will (sadly) still be there on Tuesday.

P.S. And this is why I don’t assign homework over breaks. Everyone needs time off.

Locked out #SOLC25 9/31

We are locked out of my aunt’s house. She and my spouse left about an hour ago to go see my nephew (really my cousin’s son, but big families get confusing) in a swim meet. My boys and I stayed behind, too happy in the ocean to go with them. Eventually, I traded the Caribbean for the heated pool, and soon my kids followed.

While they roughhoused in the pool, I made my way back to my aunt’s place to write today’s post – only to discover that the key she left behind didn’t turn in the lock. So here I sit, poolside, writing on my phone and watching my teens. They’ve had me film them in slo-mo as they do various wild tricks; now they’re playing something akin to baseball with a pool noodle and a beach ball. My writing keeps getting interrupted by gales of laughter and giggles.

The sun is starting to set, so I have finally texted to admit that we can’t get in – but we’re in no rush. When we left this morning it was snowing and gray; we can stay here, locked out together, and be happy for a long time.

Day one, one day #SOLC25 8/31

The thing about the March Slice of Life Challenge is that it always happens in March. Another thing that always happens in March – at least if you’re a teacher in Ontario – is March Break. Every year I tell myself that this is great because I will be able to write SO MUCH during March Break. I will go on vacation and everything will be relaxing and wonderful. I really should know better. I’ve been doing this long enough that I should be realistic about day one of March Break. And one day I will be. But not today.

On the first day of break, physics seems out of whack. Gravity works overtime; the air thickens and acceleration is slowed; every action requires more force to begin and results in smaller than expected opposite reactions.

Today, as in years past, I am sitting on the couch, mindlessly playing games – Wordle, Sudoku, Connections, Strands, Duolingo, even my Castles of Burgundy app – while telling myself repeatedly that I should get up, I should pack, I should write, I should…

Here, I’ll take a page from Sherri and make a chart:

What I’m doing	What I think I should be doing
Sleeping in	Getting up early
Having a second pot of tea	Emptying the dishwasher
Playing games	Writing
Duolingo	Commenting on other posts
Sitting on the couch	Laundry, packing
Talking to my mother	Talking to my mother

This is why it’s early afternoon, and I’m only starting my day – even though I’ve been up for hours. This is why even though I have lots of writing ideas, I don’t know what to write. This is why I wish that physics allowed for teleporters that would function exclusively to take tired teachers to vacation destinations.

Listen, I promise that one day I’ll write more. I will be witty! I will be wise! Today, however, I will accept the reality that today is not one day, it’s just day one.

Calico Capers #SOLC25 7/31

Despite the cold and snow, Tippy insisted that she was going out this morning. She waited in the front hall, yowling, and then, when I opened the door, she fearlessly pushed ahead of our black lab mix and went out into the world – or at least onto the porch. She is a tiny 12-year-old calico who has no business spending much time outdoors when it’s -5C (23F), but she didn’t care. She had plans.

I didn’t see her when I got back from walking the dog, but I was pretty sure I knew where she was, so I didn’t worry until it got close to time for our family to leave for work and school. Then, I texted the neighbours who live a few doors down.

Tippy loves this family. She hangs out with them and their two daughters quite a lot. When all our children were little, she used to follow first our boys and then their girls to the bus stop. Now she just seems to enjoy the extra love.

A few minutes after our first exchange, they texted again.

Which is how I found myself tromping through the snow to our neighbour’s house when I should have been on my way to work. Two workers were sitting in a pickup truck in the driveway. They glanced at me, but didn’t seem to think much of my early morning visit. When I got inside, Tippy was refusing to leave, so I had to take off my boots and head upstairs to help catch her.

Once we had her, I went back downstairs and tried to slip on my boots while holding a squirming calico- but there really is no way to slip on good winter boots and there’s certainly no way to do it while wrangling a cat – so my neighbour tried to help me out by crouching down to help me get my feet in. At this point, a few construction workers poked their heads out from the bathroom they were working on to see what all the screeching and laughing was about.

I imagine they saw something like this, except with more snow and a squirmier cat:

AI generated this for me – it’s not us, but whatever

Within seconds the workers were laughing, too. I handed Tippy to my neighbour, jammed my feet in my boots, and grabbed our now-irate cat by the scruff of her neck to head out the door. There, the two men were still sitting in the pickup. Now, however, they were decidedly staring – I was disheveled, my boots really only half on, carrying a twisting, yowling, tiny calico up the driveway, through the snow, back to our house at 8:30 in the morning. I could hear them laughing as I made it to the sidewalk.

Tippy was extremely unimpressed with my rescue mission and raced up the stairs as soon as I dropped her inside the door. Now running late, I grabbed my backpack and my lunch and scooted to the minivan. I made it to work on time, but only just. And Tippy? When I got home, the little rascal tried to go outside again!

Here she is in her normal cuddly glory:

Community #SOLC25 1/31

It’s snowing again. What purports to be our front yard is currently a pile of snow so tall that shovelling more snow on top of it causes mini-avalanches either back onto the shoveller or over the top and down the other side. Across from our driveway, a snow pile significantly bigger than our minivan looms ominously. To leave home in the car, I have to do a sort of backwards three-point turn, using the snow mountain as a semi-soft reminder of how far I can go – though our recent thaw-freeze cycle means that the snow is a little more compacted and a whole lot harder than it was a week ago. Our street was due for snow clearing *before* the last big dump, but each major snow storm sees the city scrambling to remove snow from the bigger roads while our little residential street slowly subsides under the white stuff.

As I leave my house to walk to a massage appointment, neighbours are already out clearing their driveways. Glenn pauses to greet me, teasing, “Here I thought you were coming out to shovel, but I suppose you’ve got teenagers for that.”

“Ha! They’re only any good if you can wait until mid-afternoon for the driveway to be cleared.” I laugh. Then I realize that Glenn is shovelling Mario’s driveway – and Mario is maybe snow blowing Glenn’s driveway? Unclear. And a guy from the halfway house – someone I haven’t met yet – is obviously helping Glenn.

“Did you all get confused about who lives where?” Everyone laughs, and we banter for a moment before I head on my way, grinning at the way our neighbourhood functions.

***

The massage therapist has a 7-month old and updates me on all the recent developments – he’s rolling both ways now, and he’ll be crawling any day now. I tell him (the father, not the baby) about my own children, and we marvel at the changes in our lives since I started seeing him a few years ago.

After the appointment, we’re still chatting while I put on my coat and boots, and his next client arrives. “I thought I recognized that voice!” she laughs, and I turn around to see a former colleague. Since I last saw her, she moved away and back, had a baby, turned 40. Social media has let us keep up a little, but here in the little office, we greet each other again.

***

And now I’m home, starting my 8th year of participating in the March Slice of Life Challenge. I have already read a few blog posts from friends (though I’ve never met them in person). I write knowing that some of my friends from as far back as elementary school will read my posts, and we’ll reach out and catch up a little. I’m anticipating a month full of moments where we’re all shovelling each other’s virtual driveways and running into each other in the comments section. Once again, I’m looking forward to this community we create with words.

With many thanks to the team at Two Writing Teachers for growing and preserving this community.