Tuesday, June 29, 2021
Tuesday, June 22, 2021
I am participating in the Chippewa River Writing Project, and the "write out" prompt for the day required that I write a "Story Only I Can Tell."
In my response I used the line "Only I can tell the story of...".as a refrain, beginning each thought.
So, I have decided to use that line in a Golden Shovel that I wrote for a different writing opportunity.
Saturday, June 19, 2021
I have been thinking about this prompt most of today, and I could not come up with one thing that feels/felt big. What came to mind was several things that feel big in my life right now.
So, I created a list...
1. Teaching in today's political climate feels big.
2. Teaching in today's social climate feels big.
3. Letting my 22-year-old, college graduate, who will always be my baby girl, figure out her life feels big.
4. Trusting my 14-year-old, black son to be safe in this world/country/state/anywhere feels big.
5. Starting the school year in a new school with a new team of teachers who I am expected to lead feels big.
When I think about the weightiness of my list, it is not hard to feel small and insignificant. I understand, however, that feelings don't always equate to reality. As I lean in to the big-ness of my feelings, I'm confident I will learn and grow, and maybe others in my sphere will learn something, too.
Tuesday, June 15, 2021
I am currently taking the workshop in the image above. Cherylann Schmidt is an amazing instructor who is helping me make sense of Practioner Inquiry and the stories that can be gleaned from the work we do with our Scholars.
At the beginning of each session, we spend some time in our notebooks responding to a question related to the data we have collected. This past week, she asked two very simple questions.
- Where did we come from?
- Where are we going?
- We came from a place of questioning...our practice, our effort, our impact, our purpose.
- We are headed toward understanding and revelation. - toward the ability to identify the stories our Scholars tell.
Thursday, June 10, 2021
Tuesday, June 8, 2021
I have read the first 3 lines (of Alan's poem) several times, and I can think of several instances in which I experienced "the stormiest of days". The most recent being May 22- May 31 when Rodney was in the hospital (in Austin) with a collapsed lung.
In the midst of the confusion around how it (could have) happened, the frustration surrounding when he would (actually) be released, and the discomfort of sleeping in a hospital ("window") bed (me, not Rodney), there were "pieces of sanity" through it all. It has taken a few days for me to get back in stride now that we are home, but I think I am finding "jeweled fragments" of calm.
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