FALLING (SOLS #24)

I just spoke to my sister, Kathy.  She just informed me that my 11 month old niece is now walking and talking.  Yes, little Gracie (Grace) is walking and talking.  Grace is my great niece and my sister's first granddaughter.  Last night, Grace was no longer content with holding her Granddad's hand.  Instead, she was anxious to let it go, to take off, and to run!  Not walk, run!  Soon Grace will experience the pain of falling down.  She'll eventually obtain her first boo boo.   When I reminded my sister of that, she became immediately sad and protective.  "Oh no, Grace will have to fall soon." she repeated.

That's when the thought struck me.  Yes, we all have to fall down now and then.  That's how we learn.  We fall down in many different ways, not just physically, but emotionally, socially, professionally, and when we are learning something new.  It's a part of life.  I remember when I was a teenager, I was learning to roller skate backwards.  I could skate forwards, but desperately wanted to skate backwards.  I fell many times, and a lot of those times I fell hard.  People who were watching told me I was going to get hurt.  Of course, I didn't listen.  I'm the kind of person that becomes more determined to do something when people tell me I CAN'T do it.  So, I fell down, but I got back up.  Each time I fell, I got up and kept trying.  Eventually, I learned to skate backwards, and I was pretty good at it.  Ask my sister, Kathy.  She was there, and she'll back me up.

Falling down is not fun.  It's not something we even want to do, but it happens.  What's important is that we get back up.  When my students are learning to read, they have to be willing to take risks.  Sometimes they are more successful using one strategy over another.  They don't stop reading when they make their first attempts or an unsuccessful attempt at applying a strategy.  They may fall down several times in the process.  However, what's important is they get back up, they keep reading and trying.  When my students are problem solving during math exchanges, they make mistakes.  They fall down.  They try solving the problem one way, and when that way doesn't work, they try another way.  So, they get back up.

My sister knows that Gracie is going to fall at some point.  She also knows that Gracie will get back up.  The falling will make her stronger, smarter, and more confident because Gracie will learn how to get back up.  It's okay to fall now and then.  Just make sure you get back up, dust yourself off, and keep trying.  DON'T GIVE UP!

By the way, today (March 24th) is Kathy's birthday.   Happy Birthday, Kathy!

Three Questions (SOLS #23)

One of my favorite picture books is, The Three Questions (Based on a story by Leo Tolstoy) and written and illustrated by Jon J. Muth.  In this book, the three questions are worded slightly differently from the way they appear in Tolstoy's original story.  I thought I would use these three questions as a backdrop for my slice and also to reflect on this challenge.

When is the best time to do things?
Who is the most important one?
What is the right thing to do?

When is the best time to do things?
Everyone knows the answer to this question.  The best time is now.  For many of us "Now" started on March 1, 2012 when this year's Slice of Life Story challenge began.  Initially, we may not have been sure if this was going to be the best time to join this challenge.  But, we knew the time was "now" because we felt deep within, that the time was right.  We may have been nervous, apprehensive, or just plain overwhelmed, but we jumped in with both feet, resolving to do it, committing to give it our best shot.


Who is the most important one?
We all are!  Every person participating in the Slice of Life Challenge has a voice.  Writing styles vary from slicer to slicer.  Yet, every one's stories are of value.  While we think of Ruth and Stacy as our mentors, they seem to think of us as partners on the same writing journey.  Ruth and Stacy write daily slices along with the rest of us.  They identify with our struggles as writers.  I know this because they tell us so when they comment on our posts.  They encourage us just when we seem to need it most.  We may put them on writing pedestals, but they have placed themselves right besides us.  Thank you Ruth and Stacy for your encouragement, motivation, and support.

What is the right thing to do?
The right thing to do is to keep writing.  The right thing to do is to complete this challenge.  The right thing is to keep writing and living writerly lives long after this challenge ends.  The right thing may be something different for each of us.  The right thing is to do all those things you've desired to do with your writing, but until now, didn't have the time, confidence, or motivation to do it.  You have what it takes, and you've had it all along.  Just Do It!  We all have this challenge to thank for opening our minds and hearts to believe it.

What are the old or new possibilities this challenge has opened your heart and mind to?  Please share.

Get It Right (SOLS #22)

My daughter is the typical teenage girl is some ways, yet she is so unlike other teenage daughters in other, good ways.  Rachel is kind, respectful, and affectionate.  She never lashes back with a wicked tongue when I have to reprimand her.  She never ignores me, and she never murmurs huffy inaudible words behind my back.  I hear that other teenagers do that.  I'm so fortunate to have a sweet and sensitive, teenage daughter.  How often do you hear those words used in the same sentence?  Sweet-sensitive-teenager. 

When Rachel goes on a borrowing spree, is when she acts like a typical teenage daughter the most.  She goes into my bedroom and helps herself to whatever she needs.  Everything from socks to nail clippers.  Of course she owns the same items, but there is always a reason for borrowing mine.  When she was about six years old, I noticed that some of my pajama tops would go missing.  When I would ask her about it, she would confess to having borrowed them.  "WHY do you keep taking my pajama tops?  I would ask.  "Because they remind me of you, mom." would be her reply.  Awe...how could I be angry about such a sweet sentiment?

Just last week, I was looking all over the place for an item.  When Rachel told me she had it, I was miffed.  In my anger, I didn't kiss her goodbye.  She acted as if she didn't notice, but I'm sure she did.  I immediately felt ashamed of my behavior.  I would not repeat that behavior again.  No matter what.  Regardless to the circumstance.  Life is way to short, and way to precious to sweat the small things.  Even the small teenage things.

Today's another day.  This time, I'll try to get it right.  My daughter deserves nothing less.

MY BAG... (SOLS #21)

Tonight, like so many others, my guilt runneth over.

My bag...
Full of books, papers, information, and notes.

My bag...
Heavy, cumbersome, ponderous.

My bag...
Full of good intentions.

My bag....
Comes home with me night, after night, after night.

My bag....
Still sitting in the car.

My bag...
Waiting for me.

To remember...

IT!

Letters No More (SOLS #20)

Writing about a slice of my life was not at the top of my "to do" list this evening.  Perhaps, it's because I've had a long day.  My daughter and I had dentists appointments after work, and I'm finally home and settling in for the night.  Now, what to write?  Writing.  Letters.  When was the last time I wrote (not on the computer) a letter?  It's been so long that I can't even remember.


I do remember writing lots and lots of letters when I was a child.  I must have been around 5th grade.  I used to write letters to a favorite cousin who lived about 30 miles away.  There was no cell phone, Internet, or Skype at that time.  Of course, my parents would never allow me to make a long distance phone call.  I may have rebelled a couple of times, and called my cousin without their knowledge.  If I did, I'm sure I only stayed on the phone a few minutes, otherwise they would certainly have found out.  So, my cousin and I did the next best thing, we wrote letters to each other.  I recall how excited I would be to find a letter in the mail, addressed to me.  I would run to the mailbox, find  the letter, and rip it open.  I probably read those letters over and over.  Then I would sit at my desk and write a letter to her in return.  In my letters, I would answer questions, give her updates, and share secrets.  Not family secrets, I didn't know any of those (none that were interesting enough to write about), but secrets that would be shared between the two of us.  I would send  my letter off, and wait for one in return.  I remember spending an entire summer writing letters to my cousin.

Letter writing seems to be a lost art.  I remember my grandmother writing lots of letters to family and friends who lived far away.  I remember my older sister buying scented stationary to send love letters to her boyfriend.  All of which it seems, is becoming a lost art.  I know that letter writing is still taught in schools.  Yet in the real world, outside of school, how often are kids exposed to the fancy penmanship of a handwritten letter?  Perhaps on occasion.  Maybe not at all.  Don't get me wrong, technology has it's place, and I can barely function when there's a problem with my computers, or there's a power outage, or the $300 bulb on my Smart Board goes out, in my classroom.  However, I feel a bit of sadness at the idea that letter writing may become a thing of the past.  So many boys and girls, will never know the thrill of running to the mailbox in anticipation of a letter   J-u-s-t   F-o-r   T-h-e-m.

Sister's Ring (SOLS #19)

This is a fictional piece I've been playing around with.  I'm not sure where I'm going with this story.  I'm not even sure that this is the beginning.  It could very well be somewhere in the middle.  For now, I just want to see where the story takes me.  Thanks for coming along.

They were not twins but she had always dressed them alike.  The older girl was two years older than her younger sister.  She had never really wanted children, yet she had given birth to six of her own.  The two girls were the last of the lot.  There were two older daughters and a son.  The other boy would only grace this world a few months.  It had almost broken her.  But she managed along for the sake of the others.  Being the eldest of nine siblings, she had grown up being nurse mate to her younger sisters and brothers.  That was when she had secretly decided she would never have children.  Why should I? she thought.  Mama is too busy nursing the new baby to worry about any of these.  These meaning the younger siblings she had helped to raise.  They never went to mama when they scraped a knee or had a cough.  They came to me!  Why do I keep going over this in my head.  It's like ancient history now.  "Ma? Why do we have to dress alike?  We're not t w i n s, you know."  the older girl protested.  "I know, but it keeps down confusion."  she said.

She had come to this town at 19.  Just married and far away from home.  She hadn't wanted to marry him.  But they gave her no choice.  They, meaning her parents.  They would rather have her marry a man she didn't love, than to risk the chance of embarrassment.

The Dry and Dreamy Days of Writing (SOLS #18)

If you are reading this post, you are reading my 18th Slice of Life story.  "Yay!"  When I began this challenge, I didn't know what I was really in for.  My biggest concern was finding an extra bit of time, in my already too busy life, to write.  Well, so far so good.  I have found the time to write, to read slices written by others, and to comment on at least three other posts written by others who have joined this challenge.  I don't know about you, but for me the story doesn't always come easy.  I call these "dry days".  These are the days when I can't seem to think of anything interesting enough to write about. Every story that comes to mind, seems like a story I've already told.  Sometimes, I attempt one or two story ideas, but abandon them for lack of inspiration or desire to write them.

I also have "dreamy days" for writing.  These are days when the story finds me and the writing comes easy. This happened to me on the third day of the challenge. I was dreaming about people holding hands. When I woke up that morning, I had developed most of the story in my head and excitedly ran to the computer to write it down. I love when this happens and I can't wait to see the story unfold before my eyes.

What I enjoy most of all,  is this writing community.  This is a community where it's safe to share your story, to put yourself out there, or try something new.  In this community, writers are boldly telling their stories and sharing slices of their lives, trying out new craft moves, and inspiring others.  Let's not forget the comments.  The comments that are left on your posts are supportive, encouraging, and compassionate.  It feels like...A Community Of Writing Friends.

I have learned a lot about myself as a writer since I joined the Slice of Life Story challenge.  Most importantly, is how this challenged has impacted my teaching.  I teach first grade students who are just beginning to write and live writerly lives.  As I work with my students during writing workshop, I have a new appreciation for how difficult it can be to get started or to come up with ideas for writing.  So, I started reflecting on the Slice of Life challenge.  What was it that helped me?  It was reading stories that other Slicers had written and the comments that were left on my posts.  I started thinking about writing workshop in my classroom.  I must admit, there are days when we run out of time, and my students don't get a chance to share their writing with classmates.  This was something that I NEEDED to correct.  If reading stories written by other writers in my writing community was important to me, it must be important to my students in our classroom writing community.  I'm happy to say that in my classroom I now make time for sharing stories in the Author's Chair on a daily basis.  I'm not saying I found some extra time, but now I "MAKE" time for sharing our stories.  The benefits are worth it and are listed below:

• Inspiration:  Students get story ideas by listening to stories written by classmates
• Audience:  Students enjoy having an audience and sharing their stories
• Craft Moves:  Students attempt new craft moves they saw boldly used by a classmate
• Comments:  Students are encouraged and supported by the comments of their classmates
• Motivation:  Students are motivated to finish pieces so they have something they can share

In my classroom we comment on the stories we hear.  The writer chooses three classmates to share something they liked about their story.  Additionally, they choose three more classmates who have questions about their story.  The questions often help with the revision process.  They remind the writer of details that need to be addressed in their story.  It's similar to what happens during the Slice of Life Story challenge.  The process motivates, encourages, and provides ideas for future writing. 

Positive comments, questions, and demonstrations of new craft moves, help to infuse our writing community with enthusiasm, which encourages writers to continue in the process.

Love Gifts-Straight From the Heart! (SOLS #17)

Have you ever gotten a love gift?  It's a gift from the heart.  The cost is not important.  The size is not important.  The coolness is not important.  Love gifts come in all sizes, colors, shapes, and categories.  The only requirement.....It Must Come From The Heart.

I get several love gifts on a daily basis.  By the end of the week, I have a pile of them.  These love gifts come from my first grade students.  They are sometimes cards, often drawings, and frequently airplanes.  (B.B. is really fond of airplanes and trains.)  Whenever, he makes an airplane for me, he throws in a demonstration for free.  He's always surprised when I say, "But B.B., you forgot to put your name on it. How else will I remember it's from you."  He smiles, and quickly writes his name on his love gift.  Sometimes he remembers on his own and says, "Oh, by the way, I put my name on it for you."  By the end of the month, my counter is running over with love gifts.  Why don't I hang them up? you ask.  Well, I do.  I've run out of both room and wall space.  My office cabinets are covered with these love gifts.  Yes, I have an office in my classroom.  I know, I'm very fortunate in that way.  I love, love, love my office.  I realize they are a rarity, even in my district.  How did I get an office in my classroom?  That explanation could be the topic of another slice.  Thanks for the idea!  Hey, am I talking to myself again?  I do that occasionally :)

These love gifts are so important.  They are not just pieces of paper.  They are tokens of love.  I did the same thing when I was a child.  I recall picking dandelions for my mom and presenting them with pride like they were exotic flowers.  Mom was so nice, accepting them graciously and putting them in water to keep them alive for as long as possible.  Those dandelions were love gifts.  So, I cherish the love gifts I receive from my students.  I know they come from the heart...full of love. 

What love gifts have you gotten lately?

I Need A Band-Aid! (SOLS 16)

My, oh my.  I think I have opened three or four boxes of Band-Aids in the last week.  My first graders can't seem to get enough Band-Aids.  They need one for this, they need one for that.  I can't tell you how many times a day a little one approaches me with an extended finger, showing me a tiny mark that I can barely see.  I've been bombarded with fingers, elbows, ankles, knees, arms, and the list goes on and on.  Mind you, none of these places show one sign of blood.  None the less, they still need a Band-Aid.


It occurred to me that all of us need a Band-Aid from time to time.  After all, Band-aids are for protection.  We place them on cuts to protect them from dirt and germs.  There are lots of things that need protecting.  We protect things that are vulnerable, things that can't protect themselves, and we protect our emotions and feelings.  When it comes to things like feelings, we don't use a literal Band-aid, we use a different kind of Band-Aid.  We protect our feelings with sarcasm, defensiveness, laughter, avoidance, and honesty.

My first graders don't always need Band-Aids to protect their cuts.  Sometimes they need them to feel better on the inside.  A Band-Aid is a relief, a comfort, a soother, a reassurance, it's a "hug" in a tiny strip.  It's a visual reminder that I'm hurt, and an emotional reminder that I have a "hug" on my finger and everything will be okay.

Have you needed any Band-Aids today?

I'm Grateful For... (SOLS #15)

This picture was taken on my drive into work this morning.
As I stopped at a traffic light, I looked up at the sky, and started thinking about some of the things I'm grateful for.


I'm grateful for the morning sky, 
Of streaks of gold,
And sapphire blue.

I'm grateful for the early sounds,
Of Wippoorwills singing,
barely visible among the trees.

I'm grateful for another chance
To make a difference, to teach,
To learn, to discover.

I'm grateful to God,
For family, for friends, for me,
And for the chance, just to be....

Are You The Pain...or the Great One? (SOLS 14)

Have you ever read a book and felt an immediate connection to the story?  As an elementary school teacher, I read lots and lots of children's books.  One of my favorites is, The Pain and the Great One, by Judy Blume.  I have read this book to both first graders and third graders, and the response is the same...an immediate connection.  In the classroom, we refer to it as making a "text-to-self" connection.  This book is perfect for making those kinds of connections because everyone can relate to the characters.

The Pain and the Great One, is a story about sibling rivalry.  The younger brother is "The Pain" and the older sister is the "Great One".  The Pain is like the typical younger brother; the parents baby him, he annoys his older sister by well....by simply being around and in the way, etc.  The Great One is the typical older sister; she can do things easier and better...she IS older after all, and her parents allow her to do more things.

When I read this book to my students, they always identify with either one character or the other.  Even  kids who have no siblings can relate because they have friends or cousins who remind them of the characters.  My students make comments like, "My brother is just like that." or "My sister is the pain in my family."  I always share how I was the "Great One" and my younger sister was "The Pain". 

When I think about my childhood, and how I thought my sister was such a pain, I have to laugh.  I'm beginning to reconsider our roles.  I think that I was the real "Pain" and my sister was probably the "Great One".  It has nothing to do with being smarter or getting more attention.  My sister was the "Great One" because she has always loved me.  Even when I was BEING a pain, because I THOUGHT, I was the "Great One". 

What's your favorite children's book?

Keeping The Faith (SOLS 12)

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
                                                                              Hebrews 11:1

About six months ago, I had thyroid surgery.  I had a large nodule on one side of my neck and two smaller ones on the other.  I was very nervous about having the surgery done, but it was something my doctors told me was necessary.  I'm a pretty healthy person.  I watch what I eat, driving my husband crazy because our grocery bills are quite high, since I only eat organic foods.  I work out regularly, at least now I do, and I don't smoke or drink alcohol.  I had never had surgery before, let alone been hospitalized, except to have my daughter and that was 17 years ago.  With that said, I must admit, I was downright afraid.  Yes, this christian woman was fighting fear and Big Time.

All those negative thoughts started running through my head... the "What Ifs".  What if something goes wrong?  What if they find cancer?  What if I lose my voice?  After all, I'm a teacher...I can't teach without a voice.  Then there was THE WORSE THOUGHT OF ALL THOUGHTS.  What if I die...and never return home?  I couldn't bare the thought of leaving my family.  Of my daughter, losing her mom when she needs me so much.  She's only 17 and soon she'll be entering into adulthood.

So, I did the only thing I could do at a time like this.  I Prayed.  I Prayed.  And... I Prayed.  I got out my bible, meditated on a few scriptures, and little by little, the fear left.  This fear that had been gripping my thoughts left, and was replaced by Faith.  The faith that I have in my God.  The faith that has always kept be moving in the right direction.  The faith that gives me hope during difficult times.  The faith that helped me overcome every obstacle that I was ever faced with.

Thankfully, the surgery went well.  I was back in my classroom and teaching a week later, with my voice pretty close to normal.  The most difficult thing was trying to hit those high notes, but my first graders didn't seem to mind.  That's one of the things I love about teaching first graders-their unconditional love.  There was no sign of cancer.  However, the size of one of the nodules was quite large, and it gave my surgeon quite a challenge.  Part of the nodule was slightly visible from the outside, but a large part of it was hidden beneath my collar bone and was beginning to go into my chest.  I don't want to get to graphic here, but simply stress how important it was that I had this surgery done, and how putting it off could have been disastrous.  I thank God for my faith.  It was faith that got me through this fearful time.  My faith saved my life, where fear tried to end it.  Fear is the opposite of faith.  If there is anything that is keeping you from doing what you need to do, work on increasing your faith.  Faith erases fear.  Just.....Keep the Faith!
Val

May I Introduce Myself? (SOLS 11)

I heard someone say, "Young lady, you should put your coat on before you catch a cold."

 I turned to see a handsome man walking behind me.  "No, way!" I respond.  "I just got over a really bad cold."  He walks over to me and extends his hand.  "May I introduce myself?" There's a short pause.  I reach for his hand, a bit nervously.  "My name is Dennis." he continues.  "It's nice to meet you Dennis, I'm Valerie." I say.

It's February, but the weather is mild and spring like.  He continues to explain that he's been watching me for several weeks and wanted to finally meet me.  We exchange a few more pleasantries, and he walks off.  Meanwhile, my mother has been walking a few feet ahead of us.  When he is far enough away, her excitement bubbles over.  "Wow! Where did he go?  Do you still see him?" she says with a bit too much enthusiasm in her voice.  

I just turned 30 a week ago.  I had been hoping to meet someone nice for about three years now, and I wasn't about to pin all of my hopes on this one single introduction.  "I don't no where he went, mother, and I really don't care."  Suddenly, a black car pulls out of a nearby parking lot.  "It's him!" she says, the excitement having returned to her voice.  "He's looking at you through the rear view mirror." she continues.  And he really was.  Now I'm in for it.  It's going to be a long drive home.

The 3 People I would Invite To Lunch (SOLS #10)

Have you ever thought about the three people you would invite to lunch, if you could invite anyone?  Well, I've thought about this a lot lately, and so far my list remains the same.  The order isn't important, but the reasons for selecting them is.  I would invite, Michelle Obama, Oprah Winfrey, and my father.

Why Michelle Obama?  I think the First Lady of our country is an exceptional role model.  In my opinion, she is the epitome of elegance, intelligence, and beauty (both inner and outer).  I admire her values, and her commitment to her family.  The First Lady is fighting to end childhood obesity, and she is an advocate for and supporter of, our military families.  I imagine Michelle Obama and I having a lot in common, and after meeting, talking, and laughing together, we would become fast friends.

Why Oprah Winfrey?  I think Oprah Winfrey is one of the most interesting and knowledgeable women of this century.  Oprah Winfrey has an amazing way of connecting with people from all walks of life.  She interviews celebrities and everyday people with both skill and insight.  She has a way of asking the tough questions, that not only inform, but often teach us things.  Additionally, she has a wonderful sense of humor.  I think Oprah and I would be good friends as well.  In case you didn't know, Oprah and Michelle are friends.  So, as you can see, I'm really on to something here.

Why my father?  Well, I've never met Michelle Obama or Oprah Winfrey.  They're just two people who I find interesting.  My father, on the other hand, was someone I knew.  He passed away when I was in my second year of college.  I knew him from the prespective of my childhood.  However, I never really knew him as an Adult.  He was ill from the time I graduated high school, up until the time that he passed away, which was my sophmore year of college, when I was 20 years old.  I have so many things that I would love to tell him, so many questions that I would love to ask him, and so many hugs that I would love to give him.  I sometimes talk to him even though he is not here.  He is in heaven and I take comfort in the idea that he hears me, even though he can't respond back.  "Daddy, I love you.  I know I haven't told you lately, but I do."

Who are the three people you would invite to lunch?

(SOLS 9) I Remember...

I remember walking barefoot with sand squishing between my toes.

I remember the warmth of the sun on my face, arms, and feet.

I remember Turtle Sundaes on warm evenings.


I remember the morning melodies of the birds singing their sweet songs.

I remember the fog settling over the creek and then disappearing before my eyes.

I remember open windows, fresh air, and the gentle breeze of the day.


I remember fresh corn, green beans, and tomatoes.

I remember picnics, cookouts, and festivals.

I remember long walks, short runs, and just right bike rides.


I remember..... SUMMER!

Rachel's Passion - SOLS 8

My daughter, Rachel, is an artist.  Art is Rachel's passion.  Her love for art started when she was very small.  In elementary school she fell in love with drawing.  As a first grader her drawings were very detailed to include buttons on shirts, knobs on dresser drawers, and the twists of her braids. 

By middle school, Rachel was writing and illustrating her stories.  She'd spend hours after school, writing and drawing.  When she was in 7th grade, she contacted a publisher to inquire about how to get one of her stories published.  Imagine my surprise when the publisher returned her call, wanting to talk to us about the book she had written.

Rachel is in high school now.  She still enjoys writing and illustrating her work.  But, what she enjoys most of all is sketching.  She has even created an Art Blog to showcase some of her art.  This week, our school district is holding an art show.  In each building, in grades K-12, the art teachers choose pieces to display in the show.  One of Rachel's drawings was selected again this year.  Rachel is passionate about her drawings.  When Rachel is creating a piece of art, she is her happiest.  What's your passion?

Wait Your Turn! (SOLSC 6 of 31)

My sister, Kathy is two years younger than myself, but in many ways she has been like an older sister to me.  I make this claim, because she often experiences things before I do.  There have been times when I've wanted to just say, "WAIT YOUR TURN!" 

When we were children, my family attended church faithfully.  We went to a church in our town where my uncle was the minister.  Everyone in my family had a job in the church.  My sister and I sang in the choir.  My father was a deacon, and my mother did all the things that needed to be done behind the scenes.  For several weeks, I had been trying to get up the nerve to get baptised.  One Sunday, as I was contemplating what to do, Kathy walked past me and headed to the alter.  I couldn't believe it!  Instead of saying, "Wait Your Turn!" I marched right down the aisle behind her.  I wasn't going to let my little sister get baptised before I did.  Needless to say, we were both baptised a few weeks later. 

Many years later, when we became young adults, Kathy announced that she was getting married.  My family liked the guy she had been dating, but even I didn't realize that things had gotten so serious, and in my opinion a bit too quickly.  Can you guess what I was thinking?  Well this time I said it to her directly, "WAIT YOUR TURN!"  "Don't you know the older sister is supposed to marry before the younger one does?" .... and her response was, "I can't wait for you."  What could I say to that.  She was right.  How could she wait for me?  I had no desire to marry in the near future and who knew when I would be ready.

Happily, Kathy did marry the following year.  A few months after that she relocated to another state because of her husband's job.  My sister and my best friend ended up living a thousand miles away.  A year or so later they had their first child, my niece.  What about me you ask?  It would be seven years later until I married.  By that time, Kathy would be pregnant with their second child, my nephew.  As it turns out, I would have my only daughter, a couple of years after that. 

Yes, Kathy is my sister, but she is also my friend.  She prayed with me when I finally decided I was ready to meet someone and get married.  She encouraged me when I thought I would never meet that special guy.  After I had my daughter, she advised me when I didn't no what to do.  Although she is my younger sister, she tends to experience milestones before I do.  I cherish her wisdom and her advice.  I no longer needed to say "Wait Your Turn!" but instead she would often reassure me that everything was going to be okay, by reminding me, "Now It's Your Turn."  I love Kathy.  She is my sister, she is my prayer partner, and she is my friend.

Holding Hands

When my husband and I first met we held hands a lot.  When my daughter came along we both held her hands, with her in the middle of the two of us.  I still enjoy those moments when we're walking side by side and he slips his hand in mine.  So subtly, so gently, and so unexpectedly.

When my daughter was learning to walk we held her hands to support those first steps.  Later, we would hold her hands to reassure her and ourselves that she was safe.  Even though she's a teenager, we often hold hands in the car.  She IS after all, my Best Big Girl.  Believe me, you won't see this happen in public.  Just between you and me, I don't think she wants anyone to know. 

When I'm walking with my students in the hallway, a little hand often slips in mine.  This is usually the little one in the front of the line.  Then another decides they want in on the action, and sometimes another.  Once I had a whole group trying to hold my hand at one time.

When my first graders are learning to read, I hold their hands through the process and then I gently let go.  I let go to allow them to try the strategies on their own.  When I read aloud to my students, I'm holding their hands as I model what fluent reading sounds like.  Holding their hands through the reading process is not a crutch, it's a support.

When my students are working on their writing, they hold the hands of other writers through the mentor texts that we use to inspire our writing.  The writers of these texts model organizational choices, inspire ideas, and demonstrate craft moves that we attempt in our own writing.  These writers hold our hands through their books.  It's not a crutch, it's a support. 

Holding hands is such an important gesture.  It provides a scaffold for life and learning.  It's not a crutch, It's a support.  It's often done subtly, gently, and unexpectedly.  How many hands did you hold today?