Disorderly Conduct--My Personal Writing Challenge Challenge

"I found her like this, Dad." Tommy's voice drifts into my consciousness as he gently lifts my hand off the keyboard and shuts the laptop.  I open my eyes and he's leaning over me in full Boy Scout regalia.  There is a smile twitching in one corner of his mouth and his hazel-green eyes are soft with affection. They are striking, like my mother's.  My heart melts twice every time I see them. "Mama, you were sleeping at the computer again."

I struggle to surface to full brain power, eyes fluttering heavily, as Chuck wanders in to the living room, the same twitching smile in the corner of his mouth, blue eyes bright and piercing even in my drowsy state.  "Up to bed, Jen."

I must be hallucinating.  Is Chuck dressed in a Scout uniform?! While he is a fantastic leader, he has always refused to conform, consenting only to the t-shirt.  I croak, "What are you wearing?"

He poses like a JCPenny underwear ad.  "You like?  I'm very stylish."  I'm not hallucinating, but now I wish I was.

I was looking forward to the mental space of a couple hours to write while Chuck and Tommy were at Boy Scouts.  And I promptly fell asleep around 7.  Before I could even start the entry.  Tommy woke me up at 9:30.

Once I was finally upstairs in bed around 10, sleep eluded me.  I tossed and turned, writing in my head, fingers itching for the keyboard.  So I snuck back downstairs to the computer around 11 and started writing this.  And the record of my falling-asleep-typing is below as Exhibit A.  I don't know why I am compelled to save it.  Perhaps because it says, "I came, I wrote.  It was gibberish because I have a sleep disorder.  See?"

You may have thought I was exaggerating in my last entry--a little hyperbole perhaps--by leaving in the gibberish.  You may have thought I was manufacturing it for effect.  It's honestly what I typed.  I have two sleep disorders.  It makes it hard to function as a teacher, much less mother and spouse.

So, it is a beautiful Saturday morning.  And I'm finally finishing this entry.  This week, I hope to write every day without falling asleep.

Photo Credit: http://www.conecomm.com/sleeping-at-the-internet-wheel

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Exhibit A

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Observations: Sketchy

Well, it's day 7 of the blog challenge, and I'm only on topic 3.  I'm letting go of any anxiety I have about this delay.  Every attempt to write will be a victory.  For the first time in nearly ten years, my desire to write burns at blazing levels.  I am DYING to tell so many stories that I snatched a half hour of my lunch time in the silence of the horse show office yesterday just to get the one about the tattoo out of my head and on the page. Clicking POST was a relief.

There were so many moments to savor on Thursday and Friday, so many observations I wanted to capture and then examine.  Yet I fell asleep in the recliner on Thursday night at 8:30, laptop perched on the right arm, fingers of my right hand still pressing the keys.  I woke up around midnight and my blog post literally looked like this:

 ;;;;;;;;;; Kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkhk; lk; oiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ihhhhhhhhhhhhhhllllkbljljbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbr

(Profoundly revealing, I know.  But it shall remain on record for the sake of honesty.)

So, I slid the laptop to the floor, rolled over in the chair and slept until 6:00 a.m. 

I packed for the horse show, dropped Tommy off at band, fixed my hair in the school bathroom,taught a full day, worked with a UNI student,  posted grades, got home at 5 p.m., packed Tommy and all our stuff in the truck, and flew off to Cedar Rapids to meet my husband who was already at the horse show.  As secretary of center ring, I was busy tracking results kkkkkkkkk;kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk'

See my dilemma.

So, in order to keep this short & finish-able, in order to get a few things out of my head and onto the paper dddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkbh, (is a comma appropriate here?)  I want to blast some content onto the page for exploring at a later, more leisurely date.

Quick Brain Spill of Moments I Don't Want to Forget since Thursday:

• Power of Observation during timed, on-demand writing
• Interactions with Sunshine, Model Paper, Sheltered Girl, Technophobe, & Writing Avoidance  ("I called my friend and ...).
• Area of improvement for evaluation:  observational record-keeping & written reflection       
• Singing Diercks Bentley's "What was I Thinking"  in the truck with Tommy on the way to Cedar Rapids
• Watching Chuck work his intensity showing the colt in the Futurity
• Tommy's Roadster Pony Driving Medallion win and his win on Max.       
• The sudden surprise of Chuck delivering me lunch.  Twice.
• My technological triumph over Aunt Marilyn's printer.  After I tripped over the electrical cord and unplugged it.  And knocked off the paper feeder on the floor.  Thus ddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd delaying the show a few minutes
• Why this blog about reflective teaching is really is about reflective living

As a career veteran, I tend to keep a lot in my head, relying on memory to keep track of plans.  I am often strong in my intentions, but rarely record what ACTUALLY happened, much less reflect about whatddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd

why it happened or what to do next time, or simply two savor a moment like kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

a jewel worth examining in more detail the facets of the experience, if only I could stay awake long enough to ponder it
                                                                                                                                                           

Temptations, Tattoos, Technology

I gave a student a tattoo today.  Sounds inadvisable and illegal, but hear me out.

So my agreement with young William is that he can sit in the rolling black chair at the table with me as long as he obeys my only classroom rule: Make wise choices.  (Really.  That covers it all, doesn't it?)

But we all suffer from temptation, am I right?  And today, as I bustle around troubleshooting student problems with their book blog post on Weebly, I hear him call his best friend's name. His best bud, who sits all the way across the room. "Nate!" (Not his real name, of course.)

I was a few feet away, so I closed the gap between us and said softly, "One of the costs of sitting in that chair, is not talking to Nate or other friends across the room.  There will be other future costs, but that is today's price."

His dark eyes widen, he smiles in surprise.  There, I see hope again.  He must be wondering when I'm going to assign him to sit somewhere else.  "I accept your price," he says quickly, before I change my mind. He settles in to the chair and tucks his nose back into his book, the latest by Cassandra Clare, The City of Heavenly Fire, which he was waiting for his sister to finish, so I lent him my copy.  (He mentions his sister to me at least once a day. I'm wondering about this and what he is trying to tell me.)

I continue working around the room, getting everyone writing.  The humidity is high today and the temperature is in the nineties.  My room is usually comfortable, but I've been feeling feverish, so I slip my sweater on the back of a chair, forgetting my shirt underneath is sleeveless.  I remember when I hear the sudden intake of breath behind me.  "You have a tattoo? Why?" To his credit, he whispered his curiosity.  The other students, buzzing away on their reading blogs, take no notice of the little butterfly on my shoulder.

"It's a pretty long story, William.  I guess I thought I needed it."

He nods as if this makes complete sense.  "Like the runes the shadowhunters wear."

"Absolutely," I say, delighted he's made this literature connection, as I wander over to a group of waving hands and solve the mysteries of navigating the Weebly web design environment. When there is another brief lull in the activity, I rummage around in the drawer where I keep all those freebies from book companies at conferences like NCTE: bookmarks, reading guides, buttons, chapter teasers, and--you guessed it--temporary tattoos.

The shadowhunters in Cassandra Clare's books, part angel and part human, draw these runes onto their skin as protective and healing spells before battling demons and other darkness.  I slip the tattoo on top of his book, wondering about the demons and darkness he is fighting, the deep purple shadows under his eyes.

"I can keep this?" He meets my eyes after studying the tattoo carefully, rubbing the shiny surface of the plastic covering.

"It's the one I thought you might need most."

His lip curls up on one side, Elvis-style, in acknowledgment of an undeniable truth. There is a softness in his eyes, a vulnerability I haven't seen before.  My heart melts a little that he let me see.

"Thank you," he whispers.

And I leave him there pondering the magic of a temporary tattoo, tracing the lines over with his index finger, the symbol for angelic power.

Image: http://weheartit.com/entry/group/26123080

The Lesson of the Kitchen Table & Rolling Chairs

I can't see. Without my contacts or glasses, I feel helpless. I can't see the kids waving and yelling my name at the end of the hall without contacts.  I can't see details, much less read 12 point font, without magnifying lenses. So, it takes two different devices to properly improve my view.  Bifocals? Uncomfortably fuzzy either way.  And if you know me well, you know I can't judge what's behind me with contacts, glasses, side and rearview mirrors, and a fancy backup camera.  Multiple poles, garage doors and my husband's truck will testify against me.  So even my hindsight is in question.

I shouldn't even be writing this blog entry right now.  I should be reading student work.  Actually, it's after midnight, so I should've been asleep hours ago.  But I've been working the swim meet though I'm fighting a vicious cold, fixing the Swiss Army knife, smarter-than-a-smart-phone copier in the school office, so the fans can get their programs.  Someone changed a paper setting and didn't change it back, I think.  At least, that's how I got it working. I rescued the principal from it after our 9th Grade team meeting.  And then I rescued the swim team.  Teaching is not for the faint of heart.  I never finished writing the mentor text of a one-pager on Langston Hughes "Theme for English B" beyond a proper heading because I was busy making change and rescuing people from technology.

After the meet, I fed some hungry sows in the barn. Also not for the faint of heart.  My husband had picked up our son in my classroom, which I had locked while I was in the meeting, momentarily forgetting that Tommy would be walking over from the the grade school next door, like he does EVERY day.  Luckily, the custodian has a soft heart and let him in.  Five minutes of apology and $1.25 in Dr. Pepper bribery mollified his indignation at my forgetfulness somewhat, and he was swept off to football practice and then First Lego League practice by hubby, Chuck. Tommy walked out of the room with the iPad in one hand and a bag of Cheetos from my secret classroom goody stash in the other, wondering aloud about when he'd get supper. They were still not home at 7:30 when I arrived. Thus my necessary appointment with the barking mad pigs and scolding sheep.  The dogs were happy to see me.  Small favors.  And then they wandered off looking for their absent master.

Around 8:00, I collapsed in my recliner tucked in a corner of the living room.  I hopped on my laptop determined to finish, and because I am being honest, START my mentor text.  My Kindle perched on top of my iPhone, both hanging on to the arm of the recliner by gravity alone. I remember why I sat down with the computer now that I see my cell phone was on Square Market when it fell asleep.  There are ICTE conference registrations to process.  It is nearly one. I haven't moved. Because I am being honest with you, dear reader, and more importantly with myself, I have been on Facebook and Twitter.  I have fiddled with Symbaloo and Photoshop.  And Weebly. And, for the love of God, Blogger.  I have NOT written my mentor text.  I just realized that I also have not eaten since lunch.  Because I have been busy online.

Are you sensing what my goals are?

So, I started the Teach Thought Blog Challenge a day late (now technically two days late), because it is about reflective teaching.  And my friends have been posting their entries on Facebook.  Peer pressure: Classic excuse.  But truthfully, my friends, I have been wanting to tell you a story all day. My fingers have been itching for the keyboard.

So, a list of my goals, then a story.  And then food and sleep.  I will write the mentor text tomorrow while my 8th graders write their on-demand narrative.

Goal #1: Focus. Slow down and pay attention.  Look.  SEE.  Using any and all tools necessary. 

Goal #2: Record your work and reflect on it in writing.  Get it out of your head!

Goal #3: Tell the truth, to others and to yourself.  (Even when it means admitting that you nearly walked out of the house for work without a shirt last week.  NEARLY.  I WAS wearing a lovely scarf and exquisite jewelry. It's not as bad as--okay it is.  Honestly.)   

Goal #4: Prioritize, woman! And stick to it!

Goal #5: Risk. Don't gamble. Except when you need to gamble because there's no time to calculate risk. 

So, the story.

I took a calculated risk this year and replaced my gigantic, L-shaped desk with a small round table. I found new homes for the detritus that nestled in its drawers. I tracked down a bright plaid table cloth, pulled up a few rolling chairs, and presto, magic kitchen table!  I imagined we would have fabulous conversations about books and writing there as I pulled a few kids over for enrichment or intervention.  In all truth, to look at the table makes me smile.  It has been a happy change.

Here, you can look at it.  I bet you're smiling!  Who wouldn't want to sit there?

On the first day of school, my first calculation paid off.  It is inviting. A new student struggling to log on to his shiny new Chromebook, plopped down right next to me at the table to show me what was happening.  We put our heads together and fixed it. He went to lunch. I rejoiced. It worked!  No student would've sat down at my desk if I was already sitting there. They would've sat across from me, perhaps.  Because that's the territorial nature of desks--a barrier that clearly defines whose room it is. Mine. A new student especially might have been reluctant to approach me, had I not been sitting at a table.  Where people gather.  To work together.  The room, and table, are ours.

Today, the table surprised me.  (Secretly, I adore that sentence.)

But first, a disclaimer, I have a student I'm not sure I like.  In fact, there are several.  This is a dirty secret of teaching.

They are all in one class, proof that random computer assignment is an epic fail.  No one in their right mind would put two of these kids together, much less five of them!  But someone with NO mind would... but I digress.  All are struggling to focus. I have been frustrated because I have fifteen minutes of down time in my other three sections if I stop the lesson to keep everyone at the same point. Writing and reflecting seem like pretty hard work to these guys.  They don't want to get down to business. They are amazingly creative with procrastination and distraction.

THEY are ME.   Yes, they are.

Not the me I was in school, but the me I am right now. This is a revelation I had to write my way to discover.  Or perhaps it was brought on by my lack of sleep and sustenance.  Regardless, it's the truth.  One I will ponder in more detail in days to come.

One young man, we'll call him William, is bright and charming.  We have bonded over The City of Bones series. The others follow his confident lead.  In the last two weeks, I have moved them all around, trying to find the ideal seating arrangement, so that we can all successfully work. There have been warnings and parent emails and an unexpected outburst resulting in this young man sending himself to the principal's office in tears.

So, what about the table, you ask?  Focus, you beg.  Here it is.  As everyone was settling in to reading time, checking out books, asking for recommendations, I turned around across the room and saw William sitting at the table.  In my black rolling chair.  Another student had handed off A Clockwork Angel to him at the beginning of class, and he was leaning over the table, with the book pressed flat, nose buried well into Chapter One. Did he realize he was sitting in my chair? Or was he so absorbed in the book that he didn't notice?  He felt my eyes on him and looked directly at me, smiling.  He knew.  It was a friendly challenge.

I gambled. And smiled back.  Challenge accepted, young William.

I got the last student settled in to reading, picked up my Kindle, and pulled up another rolling chair next to William.  The one I secretly prefer because it is a bit worn, a bit soft, and just the perfect height.  I got in five minutes of the seventh book of Outlander, asked him how the reading was going, and we had a fabulous conversation about the author.

I'm kidding.

About the fabulous conversation.  He did share that he was liking it, even though it was Victorian, and checked it out.  Small victories.  I left him there at the table while I got the class down to business blogging on Weebly about their reading. And they prioritized, and they listened, and they followed my directions. Honestly. It was a good day.  Because I saw that his challenge was playful, if a bit cheeky. Because I slowed down and spent five minutes in companionable silence with another avid reader. Because I trusted the power of the kitchen table to bring people together.

Tomorrow, and by tomorrow, I mean later today, I will savor some time with my husband and my son at our kitchen table.  Because it is a priority.  And I will follow through.  Balance can only be achieved one moment at a time, rather than all at once. It's not a destination of arrival so much as embracing being in the moment.

And vision is imagining as well as seeing.  I did not imagine the hope I saw in William's eyes that I would let him have my chair for the day.  Because I respect the power of the rolling chair over 8th grade boys. Because I respected and honored his hope, I imagined a new possibility for seating arrangement. Together.

I am looking forward to this class for the first time since school started.  Pull up a chair and join me, won't you?  The room and table are ours.