Thursday, March 31, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 31 : Hello/Goodbye

For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22: Day 31/31
Hello/Goodbye

When my kids were little, each time we crossed a border from one state to another, we would yell goodbye to the state we were leaving and hello to the state we were visiting. 

Although my children are now teenagers, I cannot resist our hello/goodbye tradition. As we arrived at the bridge connecting Wisconsin to Minnesota on Monday, I yelled, "Good bye Wisconsin, hello Minnesota!" My son, who was sitting with me in the front seat, briefly looked up from the Nintendo Switch, but my daughter did not look up from her book. 

"Come on! Join me!" I pleaded with my kids.

"Don't you remember when we used to do this?" I inquired.

"Yeah," Isaac said, "It was kind of fun. But we were like five."

"Do it with me? Please?" I again pleaded with my kids. It's a good thing that I was concentrating on the road so I could not see my daughter roll her eyes.

"Let's do it once we get to the middle of the bridge. Like old times." Isaac replied and then added, "You have to do it too, Alaina!"

"Fine," said my sulky teenage daughter. 

"On the count of three!" I yelled.

"One. Two. Three!"

"Hello Minnesota! Goodbye Wisconsin!" The three of us chanted before we officially entered Minnesota. 

Once again, this little tradition made my heart happy. 



Wednesday, March 30, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 30: A Visit to Grandma's

 For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22: 
Day 30/31: A Visit to Grandma's 

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Grandma's familiar, welcoming voice greets us as we enter her small room. With the assistance of her walker, she lunges forward to meet us. Before I can say much, she leans over her walker to give us each a hug.

"Hi Grandma! It's Trina, Kathy's youngest and my two children." Throughout the visit, I will share who I am and who the children are several times. I feel a twinge of sadness each time I make introductions with Grandma. At nearly ninety-eight years old, often Grandma's Alzheimer's robs her of her clarity.

Since Grandma gets easily tired, we spend a little less than two hours visiting with her at the assisted living center. However, the short time we spend with Grandma is rich in conversation. She asks her great-grandchildren what's keeping them busy in school. She's curious about what my sixteen year old son wants to do beyond high school. She reminds both of her great-grandchildren how much she loves them. A few moments later Grandma tells us a vivid story about when my mom was small and ruined her white dress after picking strawberries in the neighbor's garden. Next, she tells us that she met my grandpa when she was just four years old, and he lived at the neighboring farm. She talks about how much she misses Grandpa.

Just like each time I talk to her, Grandma wonders when she will get to drive her car again. Although she hasn't driven for years, she is focused on getting her car back. As a distraction and persuasion why she wouldn't want a car, I share how much gas is and how busy the traffic is. No matter.  She reassures me that as soon as she gets permission to drive again that she will hop in the car and drive the four plus hours to visit me and the kids. 

For a good part of our visit, Grandma's tender hand holds mine. It is my favorite part of the visit. If I could bottle this tender exchange, I would. 
 

Although Grandma knows that I am one of her eleven grandchildren, she doesn't call me by name. No matter. Being by her side and holding her hand is enough for me. I feel fortunate that I got to visit her. I am grateful that my children got to visit her, too.  

Tuesday, March 29, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 29: Rambling Autobiography of a Pastor's Kid (PK)

 For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22: Day 29/31:
Rambling Autobiography of a Pastor's Kid (PK)

As a child of a United Methodist minister, I was a PK - that is, a pastor’s kid. I grew up in parsonages. This meant that we lived in a house owned by the church my dad served. Most of the homes were nice and well-maintained, but we had to go through a church committee to make changes (for even simple things like painting walls). For this reason, I couldn't tack Bop posters of stars like Kirk Cameron on my walls like all of my friends did. Mom and Dad were insistent that we took care of the parsonage as best as we could and to leave it nicer for the next pastor and their family who lived there. We moved about every five years, and I forever felt like the new kid. 

In church, we usually had to sit towards the front of the sanctuary. As a kindergartner and well through third grade, I was often told to sit like a lady and to stop my incessant chatter. I was scolded not to turn around and look at others during service. As Dad delivered the weekly sermon, my mom kept me occupied by handing me a church bulletin and a pencil. She would select a letter. Next I circled as many of said letter that I could find. Later she taught me the Dots game. When I got to be around fifth grade I was able to help out in the church nursery during the church service, which I gladly accepted.

Our family sometimes had church members over for dinner. It was not unusual for my parents to host a church meeting in our living room. On those occasions, my siblings and I were required to be on our best behavior and made polite conversation with folks decades older than we were. Sometimes I was asked to play the piano or flute for guests. 

I was raised on huge potluck dinners and ice cream socials following service in the church basement. At least once a month we stood in a long line that snaked all the way back to Sunday School rooms. We began nearly every potluck dinner with the Johnny Appleseed Grace. I particularly enjoyed all of the marshmallow jello salads, homemade breads, and tater tot casseroles. 

My dad was rarely home on weeknights since it seemed like he always had meetings at church. By the time I was school age, if my mom had something going on, I was sent to church with my dad. This meant that I got to play hide and seek or race with my siblings or friends in the sanctuary, trying not to get scolded by the elders. When I was asked to hang out in my dad's office, I loved looking at the collection of Bibles, crosses, meaningful gifts and handwritten notes from parishioners. An assortment of stoles were always hanging in the corner of his office. I liked to feel the heavy fabric against my skin. 
This was a cross that hung in my dad's office, a cross his mother gave him soon after he was ordained.
It now hangs in my house. 

From about second grade through eleventh grade, I went to church camp for at least one week every summer. By far, it was my favorite week of the year. I loved camp fires, swimming in the lake, singing songs, and taking hikes. Each year I returned home with tons of mosquito bites, sunburn, and religiously themed crafts. From the summer after my senior year of high school to the senior year before college, I worked at the same church camp as a summer staff member. I still have the best memories of spending my summers on staff. 

There were definitely times that I didn't appreciate being a PK. I didn't love that most people made unfair assumptions of who I was. I was often held to a higher standard than many other kids who went to the same church. I didn't love that nearly everything was influenced by the church schedule. However, both of my parents were (and still are) loving and generous people. I was surrounded by kind families and easily saw what being a part of a community meant. 

Monday, March 28, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 28: Coffee Date

 For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22: Day 28/31: 
Coffee Date


If we were having coffee, I would share with you that I have only gone out for coffee a handful of times during the pandemic, most of them when it was nice enough to sit outside. Even though I am fully vaccinated and boosted, I still feel odd when I am at a cafe, bar, or restaurant. I wonder when this feeling will go away. 

If we were having coffee, I would tell you how grateful I am to be on Spring Break, even if that means that I am not traveling on any fancy vacations like many of my friends/colleagues are doing. I am enjoying time that is not so rushed and stressful. Slowing down is something that I constantly need to work on. 

If we were having coffee, I would tell you about how I got my haircut last week by a former student. She is learning how to cut hair, so it took a long time. However, it made me feel such joy to see her so confident and happy in this new role. I was so proud to see her thriving. I would tell you that one of my favorite parts about teaching is seeing former students thrive beyond high school.  

If we were having coffee, I would tell you about Words Hurt, an annual event at our school that I was a part of organizing. I would share powerful student responses before and after the event. I would tell you how my friend Jesus spoke about his experience being queer and biracial in a not always accepting community. I would share how I was blown away at how many of my students shared their daily stories of what it was like to identify as LGBTQ+ at our school. I would share my thoughts on the importance of giving the most marginalized individuals a safe space for sharing their stories. 



If we were having coffee, I would share how stunned I am that I have kept up with blogging during the Slice of Life Challenge. Prior to March 2022, I hadn't published one blog post all year. Slicing has made March pass by quickly and reminds me how much I notice when I am blogging. 

Thank you to Elisabeth, who first introduced me to this format of writing. 

Sunday, March 27, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 27: Tech Support

 For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22: Day 27/31:
Tech Support 

"Why are your notifications silenced?" Mom texts me.

"They are?" I immediately went to the phone settings on my iPhone, perplexed. I didn't recently update any of my notifications. Nothing seemed off. How did THAT happen? 

Ugh.

"Go to settings. Then go to Focus." My mom texts again. I nearly dropped my phone. My tech support is coming from my mother, who is in her mid- seventies. The same mom who thought that her Apple ID was the same thing as her Gmail account just a few months ago. The same mom who could not figure out how to open a document on her iPhone. 

"It also helps to completely turn off your phone." Mom continues. 

"Haha! You are giving me text support?" 

My mom responds back with ðŸ¤£.

I giggle some more and take a look at my settings again, this time looking at Focus. My mom was right. I didn't expect that she would teach me something about technology today. 

Saturday, March 26, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 26: Metaphor Dice

For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22: Day 26/31:
Metaphor Dice

Lately I've been playing around with Metaphor Dice, a game designed by Taylor Mali. Metaphor Dice comes with a set of twelve dice with words on it. The red dice are concepts. The white dice are adjectives or short descriptive phrases. The blue dice are objects. The order is usually a red dice, white, and a blue dice. However, the order can be reversed or rearranged. 

The game instructions describe the object of Metaphor Dice as, "roll the dice until you formulate a metaphor that speaks to you, one you think that you could explore for a few minutes in writing." 

See below for what I rolled. I played around with combinations until I came up with four different metaphors. 

Out of all of the metaphors, this phrase spoke to me the most.

I set a timer and did a quick write about the metaphor:

Some people say poetry is a bright mirror.
In that, poetry invites noticing
insights about yourself...
revealing beauty
you didn't know existed. 

I used Metaphor Dice with one of my ninth grade classes last week. We played with the dice as a whole group using the document camera. Based on a metaphor we came up with, I wrote with my students in a quick write based on one of the metaphors. Later in the class I split up the dice so that students could play with a smaller set in small groups. They seemed to enjoy it, but it was a little clunky to play with as a whole class. I need to do some more brainstorming of how to make Metaphor Dice as a more effective writing tool with writers. 

How would you use Metaphor Dice with students? 

Friday, March 25, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 25: Spine Poetry

For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22:
Day 25/31: Spine Poetry

I love libraries. I love bookstores. I love being in a room with bookcases filled with books. I love how books are arranged. I love how the spines of books feel on my fingertips. 

I can easily get lost in books in the best way. 

In our school library on Thursday, I spotted a random pile of books that made the perfect spine poem. It was like book fate! Check it out:

The Silence Gathers
Are you listening?
Keep Holding On

 
 

Thursday, March 24, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 24: Making Pierogi

 For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22: Day 24: 
Making Pierogi

"Want to make pierogi?" I asked Isaac, my teenage son. 

He eagerly nodded a yes. 

"Pierogi are sooooo good." 

I smiled. Until that day, he had only had pierogi, also known as Polish Dumplings, from the frozen food aisle. In my opinion, frozen food is never a close comparison to the real thing.  

"I bet you will love pierogi that isn't frozen and processed, Isaac." 

Our cooking day was a frigid Saturday afternoon back in January. It was a quiet and rare day, just the two of us - the perfect day to try a new recipe.

"I'm a little nervous as I have never made it from scratch before. I guess we order pizza if it's a flop." I offered. 

I handed him my tattered copy of Leanne Brown's Good and Cheap and instructed him to search for the pierogi recipe. Next I reminded Isaac that the biggest cooking mistakes have been made when I have not taken the time to read the entire recipe before getting started.

Isaac read the recipe and slyly remarked, "we can handle this, Mom." 

In the next few moments I placed the flour, yogurt, salt, and eggs on the counter. I handed my son five Russet potatoes to peel and cube. 

As he boiled the potato pieces, I made the dough. 

Throughout the process, we continued to return to the recipe, occasionally reading aloud the instructions, "What does it mean to have a floured surface?"  

"It's like when we make cut out cookies," I explained. "That way, the dough doesn't stick so much to the surface." 

That Saturday I taught him how to flatten out the dough with the rolling pin. We used the top of a water glass to make dozens of circle shapes. Inevitably, flour was everywhere. 

He spooned in a teaspoon of the potato mixture inside each dough circle. From there, I folded the dough over the filling, sealed and pinched the sides together with a fork. We created an assembly line. 

Plop. Fold. Seal. Fork.  

Plop. Fold. Seal. Fork.

Plop. Fold. Seal. Fork.

We continued the process until all of the ingredients were used up. Isaac and I counted up the pierogi. We made over seventy! 

The final step was to boil the pierogi. By the way, pierogi are done when they float to the top of the lightly salted water! 

Although you can eat pierogi after they are boiled, I like to sauté pierogi with a bit of butter. They tasted amazing with a little bit of sour cream.   

"You were right, Mom. Homemade pierogi taste SO much better than the frozen stuff! It was fun to make, too." 

That night we both went to bed with full bellies. Most importantly, I was so grateful for this experience of cooking pierogi with my son.

Wednesday, March 23, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 23: Murals

For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22: Day 23/31:
Murals

“Art is too important not to share.”
Romero Britto

My classroom is tucked in the back of the building, sandwiched between art classrooms. Although I lack windows and natural light in my classroom, every day I am greeted by vivid murals as I walk to my room. Each mural was created by an advanced high school art student. As explained to me by one of our art teachers, each piece represents significant meaning and connection to a student artist. 

I have had the opportunity to observe the process of how the murals are created. First, students project an image using an old school overhead projector. Next, they trace lines of the image using light pencil marks. Finally, students use acrylic paints to color their work. Students often spend class time, free periods, and lunch hours to work on this. It's fascinating to watch this process unfold. Students put everything into these pieces. 

Below are a few of my favorite murals: 




I love that concrete walls can hold so much beauty. For me, passing these murals each day brings me delight. 

Tuesday, March 22, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 22: The No Good Very Bad Day

For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22:Day 22: 
The No Good Very Bad Day

Yesterday was an awful Monday. Without going into many details, several things occurred at school that were completely out of my control. No one was hurt, but there ended up being snag after snag involving an organization for an event that I have put a lot of work and time into. 

When I left school last night I felt so defeated and exhausted.

******************

On my early morning walk today, I reflected on all of the events that went awry yesterday. It reminded me of the following:
  • I got through a yucky day
  • I dealt with all of the bumps in the best way I could without acting in a way that I would regret later 
  • I arrived home and received hugs from my teenage children and snuggles from my three felines
  • My boyfriend patiently listened to me share all of yesterday's mess and was encouraging
  • Today is a new day

As like in the Shirelles song "Mama Said," "there'll be days like this." 

Sometimes all you can do is keep going. 

Monday, March 21, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 21: I Spy Robins

 For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22: Day 21/31:
I Spy Robins

Yesterday was the official first day of spring. As I took my early morning walk yesterday, it sure didn't feel like spring. There was still some snow remaining from Saturday. It was still icy in spots. I was still searching for flower shoots, but so far all I saw was dirt. Nothing seemed to indicate spring will come any time soon...until I had my first robin sighting. 
Icy sidewalks

Where I should see daffodil shoots


Can you see that robin? 

Wisconsin Spring Haiku
First day of spring, yet/
snow remains here. Icy spots./
Look! I spy robins!

What kids of spring signs have you seen? 

Sunday, March 20, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 20: Cinnamon Rolls and Chili

For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #33: Day 20/31
Cinnamon Rolls and Chili

When my children were much younger, we used to get together often with another family, who were native Nebraskans. Throughout the year, our kids played together and the adults all enjoyed each other's company. I especially loved it when we were invited over to their house in the winter months. They always made chili and served it with cinnamon rolls. Apparently, chili and cinnamon rolls are a Nebraska thing. A quick search on Google revealed that our family friends weren't the only ones who loved the combination of chili and cinnamon rollsMaybe Nebraska is on to something. The sweet taste of cinnamon rolls definitely compliments chili. I would have never thought of combining the two foods together.

Yesterday morning we woke up to snow on the ground. It wasn't just the kind of snow that melted as soon as it hit the ground. In fact, to my dismay, there was enough that I had to shovel. All day this put me in the mood for chili. Having the awful sweet tooth that I have, I thought that it would be fun to try to make cinnamon rolls from scratch instead of buying rolls from a can (and it would fulfill a small goal of mine).

For years, I have been so intimidated to make cinnamon rolls from scratch. It's something about using yeast and dough rising that makes me feel so nervous. There are also a lot of steps to follow. 

I found a recipe online and discovered that I had all of the ingredients. I enlisted my teenager daughter, Alaina, to help. We carefully studied the recipe, returning to it again and again while we baked. 

To our delight, our cinnamon rolls turned out just fine. Each of my kids had two of them with their bowl of chili. Not bad for our first try. 

Here's a few shots of our first attempt:





Do you ever eat cinnamon rolls and chili?






Saturday, March 19, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 19: Ten Things I'm Trying to Get To

For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22: Day 19/31
Ten Things I'm Trying to Get To

Recently, I was inspired by Elisabeth's list of things that she is trying to get to. I decided to create a list of my own things that I want to get to this year, not in any particular order:

traveling outside Wisconsin
creating and tending a small vegetable garden
using my sewing machine again 
exploring new-to-me Wisconsin State Parks
painting the walls in my house
removing old carpeting in my living room
getting better at crochet 
catching up on writing pen pal letters
visiting my ninety-eight year young grandma
making cinnamon rolls from scratch

I tried to select items that were manageable to me, both from a cost and time perspective. 

What are you trying to get to this year?

Friday, March 18, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 18: Hmong Egg Rolls

For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22: Day 18/31
Hmong Egg Rolls

Many people do not have the opportunity of eating Hmong egg rolls unless they are involved in Hmong culture. However, in the Fox Valley (where I live), we have a large Hmong population. Therefore, you can order Hmong egg rolls from many local restaurants, at local farmers markets, or outdoor festivals. As an added bonus, on parent teacher conference nights at my school, our Hmong Club makes Hmong egg rolls as a fund raiser. 

Students in our Hmong Club take orders for egg rolls, prepare and cook the egg rolls, and then they deliver them on conference night. They arrive hot for the time that you request them. They taste amazing, and I love helping our Hmong Club. 

Have you ever tried a Hmong egg roll? 

A combination of pork and veggie egg rolls


Thursday, March 17, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 17: Spring Walk

For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22: Day 17:
Spring Weather

Yesterday afternoon was the first time in months that I took a walk outside without a coat on. The warm sun felt so welcoming and inviting. I soaked up as much warmth as I could with a long walk after school. 

Today's taste of spring:
sixty degree day fills park.
Joy follows. Welcome.

Wednesday, March 16, 2022

Slice of Life #22: Day 16: Tuesday Night Writing

 For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22:Day 16/31: 
Tuesday Night Writing

6:30 PM. I've finally finished with the school day, made dinner, put away the dishes, and prepared my lunch for Wednesday. My plans are ready for tomorrow. I am caught up with grading. I even paid some bills. It's been a heck of a day. I'm exhausted but also anxious with all the current things swirling in my mind. 

Writing is one of the things that helps to calm my brain when I am feeling out of sorts. I take out my journal and begin writing.

Herbert, one of my kittens, notices I've sat on the couch. Herbert bounds onto my lap, nearly pushing my journal to the floor. 

I try to pet Herbert as I write. However, he sees the tip of my Flair pen move and begins to bat at it. 

"Herbert! I need to write!" I gently scold and push his paw away. In response, he flaps his tail playfully against the side of my leg. He meows.

I put my pen to paper. Once again, Herbert paws at my pen. This time his movements cause a squiggly black line to appear down the side of my journal.

Sigh.

This game of me trying to write while Herbert bats at my pen continues a few more times until I finally concede. 

I put aside my notebook and hide the pen underneath my leg so Herbert cannot get to it. For a few moments I stop and observe. I marvel in the rhythm of his loud purrs and enjoy his presence. Sometimes he is a part of my self care, too. 

Writing can wait for a few moments. 



 

Tuesday, March 15, 2022

Slice of Life #22 Day 15: Mother and Daughter Walk

For the month of March, each day I am writing and posting a slice of my life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. 


Slice of Life #22: Day 15/31:
Mother and Daughter Walk

"Mom, can we go on a walk?" My thirteen-year-old peeks her head through the doorway. I am just finishing up my nightly FaceTime chat with Steve. My pajamas are already on. I am nestled under my quilt ready to snuggle into my book. The last thing that I want to do is get dressed and take a walk so close to bedtime, yet it is rare that my teenager requests to do anything with me. 

Of course I oblige. 

I pick up my jeans off the edge of my chair, grab my sweatshirt from the edge of my bed, and I quickly dress. My daughter is already waiting outside for me. It's still a bit chilly, so I layer on my jacket and snatch my hat and mittens. 

We walk for nearly 30 minutes around our neighborhood, chatting about all kinds of topics, such as friends, school, our pets, and an upcoming trip to see relatives. We talk about what I remember eighth grade being like and how self-conscious I was in high school. She tells me about a recent book she read. I tell her about what I have been reading. As we return to the house, she thanks me for taking an evening walk with her. 

It's has been a rare, uninterrupted time without any kind of technology - just talk. It is the kind of mother-daughter time I crave the most.  

When I turn in for bed that night, my heart is so full. 


Slice of Life Challenge #23: Day 31/31: March Coffee Date

F or the month of March, each day I am writing and posting  a slice of my life , hosted by  Two Writing Teachers .  Slice of Life Challenge ...