Saturday, May 4, 2013

What's Your Superpower? A Reflection on the Day in the Life of a Literacy Specialist

There are a lot of requirements when you're enrolled in a Literacy program in graduate school. Papers, case studies, readings. As a student and current teacher, I apply my new-found knowledge as best I can in my classroom and to course assignments. The problem with this, however, is that it isn't preparing me for what my degree will be inevitably give me the option to become: a literacy specialist. So, when one of this semester's requirements was to spend the day shadowing a literacy leader, I knew I had to get the most out of the experience.

I wasn't prepared for what I saw. Sure, literacy specialists are responsible for working with students. Of course they offer support to teachers. Naturally, they work with administrators. I knew this (I read about it, heard about it, prepared theoretical projects around it). But to do all of this IN THE SAME DAY... EVERY DAY!? Again, I wasn't prepared.

Our morning began with administrative work. The leader (this was her job at this moment) was reviewing a survey she had created for the school's staff to complete. It had already been through the hands of a "higher-up" who offered some suggestions. Where I would have probably slaved over the alterations, this leader had changed, spell-checked, and sent it off within five minutes. She then glanced over the daily bulletin and off we went- time to get the kids!

We flew down the hallway and picked up our first group. Without wasting anytime the group was reviewing vowels and digraphs. She seamlessly transitioned to reading, where each student whisper read while she went around and did a running record on select students. STOP! Time for word work, where students tapped and blended root words and added suffixes. Back to the books! The students went on a hunt for suffixes in their texts. GREAT! Onto the dictation, where neatness earns stickers and all of that tapping and blending is put to use! Finished early? No problem, here's a book (made by the teacher, no less) to find even more suffixes! Everyone is done? Time to write sentences! And then...time is up. My class spends 80 minutes doing this...she did it in under 20. Did you get that feeling?

I saw four more groups before 11AM. Each one was fast-paced. Each one offered new activities for the needs of the students. This super teacher knew just how to engage each student, whose attentions may or may not have been on the task at hand. For instance, a group of two students decoded six words and then played a clues game ("Which can you wear?" [cap] "Which you can wipe your feet on?" [mat]). Later, a group of three students played, "What says...?" with vowels, consonants and digraphs. Who knew that flashcards with sentence starters and stick figures on them were so motivating to get students to write a sentence with a suffix? And a reward for hard work? Show-off reading! In one minute you can make a student the star that will inevitably have him shining all day.

There was a break in "reading club" (another secret weapon used by this hero) at 11:00, but that didn't mean she got a break. Time to put on your coaching cap and have a last-minute conference with one student's teacher. Talk about knowing your students! She brought whatever formative assessments she had to the conference, but she didn't need to look at them. She knew right away what the plan for this struggling reader was going to be, and was willing to fight for him and the teacher to get the plan approved. We moved from the table to the computer, where the coach sat right next to the teacher and provided her with support and opinions for completing each students' IEP. I didn't know that teacher, but those 30 minutes had an obvious impact on her comfort and stress level.

11:30: Time for another group! It was at this point that my observation ended, but my reflection really began. (I found out later that the afternoon was filled with surprise observations by "higher-ups" and their "higher-ups"...does it ever end!?)

After my visit, the only term that seemed appropriate for this woman's occupation was superhero. She could fly down the hallways (without a cape). She was a mind reader when pinpointing a student's struggles. She obviously has super-strength to carry these struggling readers through from level to level as they progress. Super-speed is another power, whether in completing administrative tasks, moving through a lesson, or conferencing with teachers. She doesn't wear a red suit or a mask, but it appears that everyone knows who to turn to when they need a little (or a lot of) extra help with their literacy learners. I challenge you to think of a better term for this woman and all she does, because "specialist" "coach" and "leader" do not seem like strong enough descriptors, do they?

Now I sit here, a relatively new in-service teacher, who is eager to receive her Master's degree in Literacy and begin to change the lives of struggling readers and writers. I cannot help but wonder if I will ever be able to do what this one teacher does, day in and day out, making it seem easy and having the success rate to prove it. And while I'm sure it is difficult to juggle all of these roles, one thing was powerfully clear: this teacher, mentor, colleague, organizer, leader, hero LOVES and is PASSIONATE ABOUT what she does. And I suppose, in the end, as long as you have those two things, you really can save the world. In teaching, at least. 

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Procrastination Nation

Welcome to Procrastination Nation,
Where you don't work when you should
And you often wish that you would
have listened to your friends
when they said:
"DON'T PUT IT OFF UNTIL THE LAST MINUTE!"

But you can't help where you live
Or the curveballs that life gives
to you
on a weekly basis.

So here I am now,
Sitting under the flag of my country
And thinking, "Holy cow!"
10 PM and so much to do!
If my professor only knew
That I didn't mean to wait so long
To type up these last 2 entries that belong
Behind a bullet-proof case for all of the work
I have put into them.

I pledge allegiance to the flag
of the nation that makes me gag.
Here's to you, Procrastination Nation.
You win again.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Did you know...

Reflections from today's writing lesson...

Did you know

that your students

know more than you?

Did you know

that you will never

know everything?

Did you know

that by thinking you're

the smartest person in the room

you are cheating yourself

and them?

Did you know

that you can learn

more in one lesson from them

than in any professional development course?

Did you know?

Saturday, March 30, 2013

My Golden Girl

"Thank you for being a friend
Traveled down the road and back again 
Your heart is true your a pal and a confidant."


You scratch and bark
And make me carry you home from the park.

You used to be full of energy (and thin!)
You now eat garbage and my dirty napkin.

You hate when I dress you up,
But you're such a good lil' pup

That when dressed as a hippo for Halloween
You didn't even make a scene.

Your feisty moments make me laugh
Like when you know you're about to get a bath.

And you give me that look like, "Mom, don't you touch me,"
Even though afterwards you know you'll feel as good as can be.

To me, you are more than 'man's best friend'
You are worth more than any amount of money I can spend. 

You're presence is always there to carry me through,
Gracie, I love you. 

Peeping Tom

Through the window: Boo!
"I see you," taunts the peacock.
Can't complain 'bout Tom. 

IFA Villas Bavaro Resort & Spa, Punta Cana, Dominican Republic

Closure With a Capital "C"

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green was recommended by some of my classmates as a "MUST READ." So when it came time to decide which books to bring with me on vacation, it was my first purchase. 

On the connecting flight from Atlanta to Santo Domingo, I turned on my Kindle and began to read. 

After the first page, I looked to Mike and said, "This is a cancer book." 

"Turn it off," he said, without hesitation. 

Now, none of my classmates were aware of the fact that the Big C is a pretty (very) fragile topic in mine and Mike's lives. A brief timeline: September, his mother was diagnosed; October, my cousin lost her battle; November, my grandmother stopped fighting; December, his grandmother was taken unexpectedly. 

Not that we are in avoidance of the topic altogether. Heck, we even watched 50/50, knowing it was a C movie, because we thought Seth Rogan would give us a humorous take on much a traumatizing subject. Well, once we got to the scene where the camera focuses in on a half-empty bag of chemo being pumped into JGL, we turned it off. No laughs. Just horrible memories. "Too soon," we both agreed. 

It was still too soon. I knew that vacation would already bring about a few moments of sadness on Thursday, what would have been my cousin's 35th birthday. But it came so highly recommended that I thought, "Hey, if it gets too rough, I have others to choose from." On I read...

I finished the book the next day. I had to stop, frequently, because Hazel's journey required thought. But I couldn't keep myself from reading. The book, in fact, wasn't "sad." It was undoubtedly depressing, but Hazel never lets you feel sorrowful for her or the other characters. For them, cancer is just something they have, not who they are or who they will become. And that is exactly the way I saw it as it was happening around me. These brave women, like Hazel, lived their lives the way they wanted to. Sure, some days were better than others. But they kept going, if not for themselves, for their families and friends. And when the end would come, though grief-stricken and heart-broken, their wishes for us to be happy and celebrate their lively spirits was a true testament to their strengths and characters. 

Hazel's story helped me more than I ever could have imagined. It sounds silly, that I've had months to recover from such loss and a book, read over 2 days, was what ended up putting everything into perspective. But it did. Hazel's voice, for me, was the voice of the women I lost and the one still fighting (and winning!). I will never know what my angels thought before they left this earth, but I can imagine it was something like what I read. 

It is all still so unbelievable and despairing, yet for the moment I have Closure from Cancer. For the moment, there are no "what-ifs" or "I wonder...". In this moment, I am at peace. 

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Rise & Shine

There are two beautiful benefits to leaving for work before dawn and coming home after dusk:

Sunrise



and



sunset.

British author Jo Walton said, "There's a sunrsise and a sunset every single day, and they're absolutely free. Don't miss so many of them." 

Lucky for me, I get paid to experience these priceless moments. 

Monday, March 18, 2013

Salted Stress

Salt and stress.

Stress and salt.

Vacation is in 5 days.
Skip the chips.
Go nuts with the nuts (pistachios, that is).

2 cups later...
Shells.

And still stressed.

Ahh!

FYI: Pistachios are just as unhealthy as chips.
Now they tell me.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Perceptrain

As I tried to overcome my sugar hangover on the train ride home this evening, I closed my eyes. As I sat there, I listened to the noises around me. The rattling of the wheels on the track, the creaking as the train rocked side to side, the shrieking of young children and the moans of St. Paddy's celebrators.

When my eyes opened, I stared out the window into the gray landscape of the Hudson. The sky: gray. The water: gray. The bare trees and charcoal rocks jutting out of the shore were all incredibly eerie. I couldn't help but think how this would be the perfect setting of a horror film.

As I pondered all of this, I wondered how I could blog about it. I use this space to write about the sweet take on things, so surely writing about horrifying sights and sounds would not do.

And then I began to wonder, if I had my iPod with me and was listening to soothing music, would this view still seem so ghostly?

This link will show you how changing the music can change your perceptions of a visual experience. Watch the first 30 seconds or so and then fast forward to 3:15. What do you think?

Proof That Music Changes Everything is a bit different. It takes scenes you have probably seen before and plays a Coheed and Cambria song that can make even the Teletubbies seem epic (and terrifying).

It's interesting that what we hear so drastically affects how we perceive things. I wonder how my take on things would be altered if I listened to various music genres at different points in the day? Have you ever noticed this phenomenon?

The Sweetest Things

Sweetest Thing #1: Girlfriends

What you should know: The Corps 4 (ballet reference) have been best friends since about 2nd grade.

What made today sweet:

a) This: 

Sweetest Thing #2: Desserts

What you should know: A 2 hour, $20 Living Social deal for a cupcake tour in NYC came our way. 

What made today sweet:

a) Mango gelato from Amorino

b) Cookies n' Cream cupcake from Crumbs Bake Shop

c) Chocolate cupcake with brown butter frosting from Molly's Cupcakes (p.s.- the inspiration for the store was the owner's 3rd grade teacher who always made cupcakes. The tables are desktops and the walls are adorned with lunch boxes from the 60s. There's even a bookshelf with children's books. Heaven!)

d) Milk and Cookies' Salted White Chocolate Oatmeal cookie

e) Magnolia's Red Velvet cupcake


A Counted Thought

As I strolled through the $1 bins in Target, I came across packs of these charming greeting cards. Never one to say no to a sensible deal, I scooped them up. 

Two days ago, I entered the bathroom at 5:30 AM to begin my daily routine. There, waiting for me on the counter, was a bottle of Argon oil. I had briefly mentioned to my mom weeks before that I had wanted to try this miracle oil out on my hair. My whole morning was brightened now that I had this new product to try. 

I decided to share this feeling with her in a note. "Just a note," to be exact. I expressed my gratitude and awe at all she managed to do for my family. I left it leaning on the coffee maker- something for HER to discover in her morning routine. 

Yesterday, I was required to observe a second grade classroom as part of my new teacher training. Now, it was mandatory, but I still felt it was kind of that teacher to take me in and show me the ways of a second grade Language Arts class. When I got home, I reached for that pack of $1 cards to say "thank you!" to the woman who, on top of teaching eight squirming children, found the time to explain her lessons to me. When she receives the card on Monday, I hope it lightens her day the way small gestures sometimes can. 

The moral of the story: You really can find happiness in a good deal- or something like that :)

Thursday, March 14, 2013

The Real "To Do" List

Days like this
remind me that it is not good to stress.
There are far better things
than checking everything
off your 'to do' list.

Today, I heard my students
speak French
for the first time.
Bon jour sounded like banjo.
It was amazing.

Tonight, I sat in bed
with my mom
watching HGTV.
We drank
tea
and downloaded apps
to our phones.

Right now, I am writing
on my blog
When I should
be lesson planning.
Oh well. I'm
content.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Day 10: Just the Beginning...

This will not be my last post in March. 

Yes, I've reached the end of the Great Grad Writing Project, but I have not reached the end of my writerly experience (I never will)! In fact, this is only the beginning...

I've mentioned (in one forum or another) that writing has become an escape for me; something to free my mind of the day's chaos and just reflect, relax. I don't think I could ever give that up now. 

I've also so enjoyed getting to know my peers through their own posts. Everyone has such different writing styles (Amanda, so honest, Kristen, straight and to the point, Jessica R.,whose limited words offer deep insight, Megan, whose posts can get anyone to nod their head in agreement, Katie, whose words get you thinking, Jessica B., whose blog is filled with optimism, and, of course, Dr. Ferreri, whose posts inspired us all to be writers this month) through which I've grown to know them on a different level. And through which, I hope, they have gotten to see a different side of me. 

At this point, I may not be able to write EVERY day. But, a few times a week, it would be nice to sit down and write something to share with others. Who knows, maybe I will even become part of a professional network of bloggers?!

Until that time comes, though, I will be thankful that (through moans and groans) Dr. Ferreri insisted we engage in this activity. I really have seen myself grow as a writer (less writer's block) and begin to actually ENJOY the act of writing. 

So, to end this 10-day journey, I leave you with a haiku (my new favorite form of poetry, thanks to 6004 & this blog):

Write your hearts out, kids
Your thoughts: Worth their weight in gold
It's never too late

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Day 9: The Substitute Dance

You get the call in the morning.
A tap dance emerges as you pitter-patter through the house getting reading.
This is your happy dance.
Today, it is your day to teach.

On the way to school
It's the jitterbug.
Will they listen to me?
Can I do it?

During homeroom
It's the cha-cha.
Chirping "Good Morning (cha, cha, cha)"and
"Have a great day! (cha, cha, cha)"

In reading
It's the tango.
Legs stretched out to walk to the next desk
As your eyes linger over the reading of another.

Math. Math.
The charleston is a song and dance routine.
Are you listening? (hands are waving back and forth)
Isn't this so EASY? (low leg kick) You can do it! (high leg kick)

In Social Studies
We do a waltz.
Gliding from row to row to read from the textbook.
It's slow. So slow.

It's all a dance. And I perform, gladly.







Day 8: A Peek Into Unique

This week my school is celebrating Unique Week: a period of four days where we celebrate all that makes us different and special. We read books (such as People by Peter Spier), have discussions, and write about all that makes us unique.

After I read People to my class, I asked, "Why do you think it's important that we celebrate being unique this week?" Of course the student had a variety of responses, all of which were heart-felt and demonstrated their understanding of the topic of uniqueness.

At the same time, I couldn't help but think about the wording of my question: "Why do you think it's important that we celebrate being unique this week?" 


Shouldn't we embrace our uniqueness throughout the year? Does only allotting one week (actually, 4 days) to this topic, in a sense, make IT unique? And, as a result, remove some of its significance? Does that, in turn, remove some of the significance from being unique in itself? 


I know, it's a spiral of 'What-if's'. But I do think that it's important to consider those what-ifs. We are different, special, and unique all year long. Mr. Geisel wrote, “Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You." So, why not embrace it a bit more in morning meeting, read aloud, and writing? Why limit our capacity to be EXCEPTIONAL to only four days? It seems silly, doesn't it?






Sunday, March 10, 2013

Day 7: Retail Therapy?

March Madness is right! It had only been 9 days into March and I was already SO overwhelmed by the race to Spring Break. Between observations and professional development assignments at work, projects and case studies for grad school, finding time to do my taxes, plan for tutoring, and make arrangements for vacation, my world was literally a kaleidoscope of TO DOs whirling around me. So, what's the one thing I knew would slow everything down for an afternoon?

Retail therapy. 

Off my mom and I went to the outlets. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze; Mother Nature had given us a perfect afternoon. We weaved into one store and out another, gaining pounds of baggage as we went (forget about therapy, this was turning into a serious cardio and strength training session!) With every blouse I picked up I imagined myself wearing it in the spring, when the tulips start blooming, the grass is green and plush, and the whole world has that smell of morning dew. These thoughts pushed out those "right now" stressers and allowed me to focus on the cheery future that is to come. I might as well have been sitting on a couch, because this sure was therapeutic. 

But then...

The crowds grew. Suddenly, there was no time to look at an article of clothing and daydream. I was pushed into racks of clothing to let people pass me before I could even take a shirt off of that rack. Forget about looking at accessories- unless you didn't mind that someone was constantly looking over your shoulder to see what else that table had to offer. There's no time to browse the impulse buys when the woman behind you is demanding you, "Go!" every time the line moves up 3 inches. Even getting an iced tea turned into a 20 minute experience, with people cowering at you to make sure you don't cut them in line. What happened to my serene shopping Saturday? 

At this point, I needed therapy for my therapy. Retail was stressing me out. It was time to go. 

At home, in the tranquility of my own house, I was able to decompress from the tail end of my day. I unpacked my bags, and, once again, started to imagine cool spring mornings that turn into warm afternoons. Ahh, this was sweet...


Saturday, March 9, 2013

Day 6: Tax Rap

Taxes, taxes,
Pay me for my classes

CPA's got the know-how
Don't need days to file now

Independent
Dependent
Independent
Dependent

What's the best way to file?
Can I go that extra mile
And be solo, solo?
Yea I've got to go, go
Out on my own

Mom and Dad
Don't be mad

Wallet doesn't feel the burn
I just got a huge return.

Success.


Friday, March 8, 2013

Day 5: Sounds of a Snow Day

Ching ching ching! screams my alarm,
I reach across and press snooze as my arm
Buries my bead even more under the pillow,
Outside I can hear the welcome flag billow.

A rumbling in the distance awakes me now,
And I think to myself, "How
could I have ever forgotten to peer
out my window for weather, severe?

Zzzzzzziipp go my blinds,
Cast before me is a stupendous surprise!
A thick, white coat covers the ground,
And I recognize that once faint sound. 

Zoom goes the snow plow down my street,
Now to find out if morning will hold another treat.
To the computer I quickly go, 
to find out if White Plains is affected by the snow.

Clap! go my hands as I press them together to pray
That my school will have more than White Plains's 2 hour delay.
Finally, at 5:36,
My phone lights up (please don't be a trick!)

Yipee! I exclaim, filled with glee,
The prerecording just said, "No school for me!"
Now, what to do with all of this vigor?
Post on my blog, bake a sweet cake, and maybe, something bigger. 


Zoom goes the snow plow down my street

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Day 4: Character Traits

In tonight's grad class we spoke about the significance of having our students identify and discuss character traits as a part of Think & Search questions from Raphael's QAR strategy. So, when I walked in the front door and was greeted by a long awaited package, I quickly knew what I would be posting about tonight!

Now, those of you that know me from work, school, or other professional arenas may not immediately understand how this shirt possesses the three character traits that are used most often to describe me. However, those closest to me can easily explain to you why classy, sassy, smart assy are THE terms that define who I am. Let me try to break it down for you:

Classy: It began during my days as a ballerina in a pink tutu and tights and transitioned to my time as a teenager with more pearl jewelry than I wish to count. I was raised to sit like a lady at the dinner table, on the couch, and at the theater. Saying, "please," and "excuse me," were more than manners- they were a necessity- like breathing. My clothes always matched and I was never NOT put together. Most importantly, I was a friend to everyone- being a caddy girl was never part of my agenda. Sure, some may say I was (am) just a polite goodie-two-shoes, but I believe that all of these things have given me the right to warrant myself "classy".

Sassy: Behind the manners lurks a sass machine. My parents will tell you I have always had the sass in me, but I've only realized it in recent years. With age and wisdom has come sarcasm, an unlikely friend. Luckily I can control when I let that beast out of the cage (hence the "classy" label) but when I do, it is typically welcomed by those around me. I think people enjoy hearing my sassy remarks because they would never expect them to come out of my mouth. I'm not being a narcissist, I'm just saying...

(a bit) Smart Assy: I've ALWAYS had this trait. Nobody taught it to me and I don't think I can really control it. I think the best example comes from a trip to New Jersey with my family. I was in charge of the GPS (as the only one in the car who knew how work it, mind you) and my dad was driving. The GPS lost its signal during the exact moment we had to turn off an exit. Well, my dad was very unhappy with my copilot performance and told me that my ONLY job was to read the directions. Well, you better believe that I told him the directions, every 10 yards, for the rest of the trip ("Turning right in 200 years, 190 yards, 150 yards,..."). I mean, don't blame me for technologies imperfections!

I will wear my new shirt with pride (and some modesty around the bottom- the word "Assy" is not very classy!) for I love my quirky traits. They describe where I came from, who I am, and what people can expect from me. I hope this post doesn't make anyone begin to see me in a negative light, and if it does, well...I'm sure I have some sassy comments about that!

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Day 3: Summer's End


Chapter 1

It’s a cool, summer morning. We don’t get much of these here in Terry. It’s usually so hot that even the mosquitoes slow down, resting their petite wings on the trunk of my 100 year old oak tree. I stare off into the distance, letting the wind catch my hair and gently lift it off of my face. My head is resting on the worn ropes of my tree swing as I teeter forward, back, forward back. I am overlooking the lake in our backyard. The pale blue morning sky is reflected in its glassy surface. I am at peace here among the trees, the birds, the stillness.

My daddy hung this swing up for me when I was just a little girl. I remember the day it happened- it was the best day of my life. We had just come home from church when Daddy called up the stairs to me, “Hey, Ger, come on down. I wanna show you something!” (Daddy started calling me Ger, short for Geraldine, when I was four. It’s become my permanent nickname). As I ran down the stairs I saw him gripping an old piece of wood and some rope. Daddy’s always up to something! I thought. We walked to the old oak and stopped. Daddy climbed a ladder to reach one of protruding branches, where he tied the ropes using one of the knots he learned back in his sailing days. Then he strung the ropes through two holes at either end of the cedar plank. I jumped for joy, gave Daddy a huge hug, and hopped onto the swing. I haven’t left since.


I don’t know how I could ever say goodbye to such a glorious place. As my thoughts begin to wander, I am abruptly brought back to reality.

“Don’t you get any ideas about being lazy today, Ger!” taunted the boy with sandy, blonde hair, a faded red t-shirt and cutoff denim jeans. “Remember we’re going to Ol’ Stevie Klein’s place to sort through all that junk in his garage. Gotta be something valuable in there.”

Scotty has been my best friend since, well, forever. Mama has a picture of the two of us in diapers hanging on the fridge; mouths covered in tomato sauce, chubby fingers gripping short strands of spaghetti. Even though it’s 10 years later, we’re still pretty much the same. Scotty and I (and Maxie, his yellow lab) do everything together. When school’s in we walk to Dogwood Elementary every morning, swap lunches in the afternoon, and talk about grumpy Ms. Daniels and how if she would just find a husband she wouldn’t be so miserable and, in turn, wouldn’t make our lives so miserable by assigning so much homework.

Now that summer’s here, Scotty, Maxie and I stumble upon adventures as they come. Today, Scotty wants to go to Stevie Klein’s house and “help him” clean out his garage (and by “help” I mean try to find hidden treasures).

Stevie and his wife, Bertha, are moving. They’ve lived in Terry for just about as long as anybody. They got married here, raised their kids here, and even donated a bench in park that has their names on it: This Bench Donated By S & B Klein, 1995. How could anyone who built a life in Terry just up and move? It’s a question I’ve been asking myself for days. A question I’ve been keeping to myself for what seems like an eternity.

“Helloooo? Earth to Ger! Let’s get a move on! I don’t want to miss any of the good stuff. I heard Bobby Denver and Tim Riley might show up and we don’t need them taking what could be ours!” rambled Scotty.

“OK, OK, I’m ready!” I exclaimed. “You know, Scott, sometimes I think Maxie here has more patience than you.”

“Of course he does! He’s a DOG, Ger. His entire life is spent waiting to see what we do, so let’s entertain him by getting going!”

I breathed a deep sigh as I slid off of the swing and my feet sunk into the warm, soggy grass below. How many more times would I experience this feeling?

As Scotty and I strolled down the cracked sidewalks, Maxie panting behind, I struggled with myself. Should I tell him? How do I do it? When is the right time? How will he react? Can this all just be one, big nightmare?

Sadly, it was reality.

Chapter 2

As soon as we reached the Klein’s house I knew we were in for trouble.

First, they had all of the contents of their garage spread across the front lawn. And not just lawnmowers and old paint cans from 1975. There were trophies from bowling leagues (the kinds with gold figures of bowlers glued to the top) jutting out of brown boxes. Framed posters of Charlie’s Angels and unicorns (probably left behind by the Klein’s kids- Tam and Clyde) were leaning up against tree trunks. It was all useless, but I’m sure it had meaning to Bertha and Stevie.

And, of course, it had meaning to Scotty. He LOVES other people’s junk. He lives by the motto, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure... and that other man is ME!” I spotted him out of the corner of my eye, bottom in the air, leaning over an old box of comic books.

The other problem was INSIDE the garage. Bobby and Tim were here. To make a very, VERY long story short: Bobby and Tim do not like Scotty and I. And we don’t like those clowns either. They’re always teasing Scotty about having a girl for a best friend. They make kissy faces when we walk into the cafeteria during school and call out things like, “Hey Scotty Boy, shouldn’t you be wearing a pink shirt? I bet you’d like that better wouldn’t you?” when they have their baseball league on Saturdays. The last thing I wanted was for them to start bothering Scotty today. Especially on a day when what I had to say was even more hurtful than their words.

“Hey Ger, come check this out! I found a reallll treasure in here!” Scotty shouted from the bottom of the box.

As I walked over, I admired my best friend for his ability to see the beauty in, well, everything.

“These comics must be real old. Like, from the 80s! Look: Archie, Peanuts, they’re all here! Imagine how valuable they are? They’ll be great additions to my collection.” 

“Uh, Scotty? You don’t have a comic book collection,” I reminded him.

“Well, right now I have more of a magazine collection. You know, my car magazines and that one Uncle Pete gave me about traveling in Mississippi. Now I’ll have a whole library to choose from! So awesome,” he gleamed.  

“Yea, right, a whole libr...”

Before I could finish my sentence, Tim’s voice rang out over the yard.

“Here to help, lovebirds? Or just shop around for your future love nest?”

“Aw, Tim, leave us alone,” Scotty brushed off as he turned back to his newly prized possessions.

“What the matter, sweetie pie,” Bobby butted in, “afraid we may hurt your girlfriend’s feelings?”

“Guys,” I pleaded, “just go finish whatever it was you were doing before we got here. We’re not in the mood for your idiotic comments today.”

“Oooo, seems like you need your girl to stick up for you, Scotty Boy,” taunted Tim. “Whose gonna fight your battles when she and her family move to Jackson, huh?”

It was at that moment that Tim Reilly, the most insignificant person in my life, shared the most significant secret I had ever kept.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Day 2: Sprinter

Despite my lagging cold, I am back at work today. I confiscated a box of tissues for my personal use and cringed a bit when I realized my hand sanitizer was creeping nearer and nearer towards the bottom of the bottle. As I secrelty swallow two Advil Cold and Sinus pills in the corner, I am thankful for the student that made me appreciate the sweeter side of today.

As we stood on the playground during recess, this particular young girl said, "You know, Ms. Diller, today should be called Sprinter. It's a perfect mix of Spring and Winter."

"You're right!" I pointed out. But it wasn't until after I took a moment to carefully consider her words that I began to appreciate them.

Above me was a pale blue sky, free of clouds. I could feel the sunshine beeting down on my scalp, instantly warming me from the inside out. Above, it was Spring.

From behind, I could feel the cold chill of the wind as it hit the part of my neck that was exposed to its gust. My nose, too, was certainly red from the bitter breeze. Around me, it was still Winter.

There are so many sweet take-aways from this moment in time. Take time to stop and smell the roses is one cliche that comes to mind. Also to be present in your life- be aware of what is around you and appreciate it for what it is. Perhaps most prevalent is to recognize the importance of those small voices around you, whether internally or externally (in my case, it was the voice of a 9-year old). We must not take for granted the beauty of what is around us, even on the most "cold" of days.

Monday, March 4, 2013

Day 1: Ku's About a Cold

It's Monday, the day we weekenders dread the most. This week, Monday greeted me with a terrible cold- the kind where your eyes are swollen and teeth feel as though they are being pulled out. When Dayquil failed to perk me up in time for work, I decided it was best to stay home so I could be twice as peppy tomorrow.

Please enjoy these Haikus that take a "sweeter" look into the eye of a cold.

Dayquil, tissues, tea
A day home from school is nice
Achoo! Back to sleep

Can't breathe, eyes swollen
Chamomile is the best cure
Hot steaming mug: bliss

Runny nose? Tissue
Freezing chills? Fuzzy blanket
All in a day's work

Cherry lozenges
Lemon Zinger with honey
Sweet sides of a cold