Autumn

Autumn. 
The air chills.  

Leaves turn and fall.
Summer passes.

We celebrate the passing,


Draping mantles in ginger leaves and

Piling tables with golden pumpkins,

Final crops of summer bounty.

Even in autumn, though,
Not everything passes. 

Some things live.

Even thrive. 
Stand out.

And other things sleep, renew.

Resting until spring.

And, as in all nature,

those that sleep and live

Survive with scars.

Scars that show surviving

Despite hardship

Despite pain and grief

Despite loss.

Autumn. 
A season of change. 
A season of surviving.  

First day of school

I love the first day of school. I always have, ever since my own first day of school. (I guess it's a good thing I became a teacher!). I love the anticipation of the day. All the new clothes and binders and paper! I have to say that I was kind of nerdy when I was a girl (probably not a shock to people who know me.) On the first day of seventh grade, I was so excited that I put ALL the notebook paper my mother bought me in my new binder. It was heavy. And when I was standing at the bus stop with all the older kids, who had a few sheets of paper in a folder and looked cool with their light loads, I realized how nerdy my lugging that huge bundle appeared. I removed almost all the paper that night, but there was no way to take back that first impression!

I still love the smell of new pencils--sharpening them renews the smell and makes me feel like writing. As I've gotten older, I've been able to indulge my love of writing utensils. I don't have to use the cheapest (which made sense for my parents when I was growing up). Now I can buy my own--and who knew that pencils and pens made such a difference? There is nothing like a Palomino Blackwing pencil for smoothness. And, although I don't use them anymore, I will never forget the scratchy feel of a fountain pen moving across paper.

So, yes, I am a nerdy teacher who still loves the first day of school. Because of that, I am extra happy when my children start sending first-day-of-school pictures of my grandchildren to me. Look at these cute faces, at the new shoes and combed hair! What's not to love?

 


But I was really tickled by this one of Anya. below. She's not just standing in front of the door--she's jumping for joy! She loves school, and she is excited to be heading back. She lives her life at top speed, putting everything she has into everything she does. What a way to start the school year! I want to emulate her enthusiasm for life. And I want that energy for the start of my own school year. Yes! (Fist pump inserted here.)

night time

A part of me longs to be inside my home when the sun sets and night comes on. A part of me likes the idea of being tucked in, settled down. I like being in the light with the darkness beyond the windows.

But sometimes, I am still at work when night falls. And when I look from my window, I can see the city beyond the practice field and school buildings.

I love the way the lights of the city glitter. I love that being in my office also feels a little like I'm tucked in and the world is "out there." I love looking into the night knowing that I am in the light.

But sometimes I am in a car at night, driving by homes where the people who live there are tucked in and I am the one on the outside, in the night. I am behind the car lights that glitter and flash in windows as we pass. I like the idea of seeing the windows of light, seeing families at a table, talking, or on couches, watching tv. I like to think of them tucked in and glad to be inside during the night. I like to imagine their lives. I always imagine them safe and happy, safe from the dark. Settled.

If I had my wish, I'd be inside, tucked in for the night, eating dinner and reading or watching tv, and imagining that the cars driving by were envying my being the one in the light, out of the night, and settled.

writing in the real world

Gabe's letter to Santa, complaining about his mom

We spent Christmas with our son and his family in Arizona. As part of that visit, I was able to see my grandchildren use writing for meaningful purposes in their lives--and I couldn't have been happier! On Christmas Eve, Tatum (5) wrote a note to Santa's elves. She wanted to make sure they wouldn't eat the gingerbread houses she and Gabe had made. Her note says: Dear elves: Please do not eat our gingerbread houses. I don't want you to eat it so you should not eat it. Love, Tatum. (spelling corrected).
Gabe's was written around the same time, to Santa. I had heard the exchange when he was asking his mom about why Tatum got to stay up as late as he did (he's 10). In exasperation (and humor), she said something like "I must like her more than you." A little while later, the letter pictured above appeared on the counter: Dear Santa, Today my mom told me that she likes Tatum more than me. I really don't think that's fair. I do all kinds of stuff for her. I babysit, do chores, make breakfast, make dinner. I also make my sisters happy. Please write back telling my mom not to have favorites. The good boy, Gabe.
Now, I know that Gabe is secure in his mother's affections, so I can see the humor in the situation. I also think that it's telling that both of these children see writing as a way to make things happen in the world. How cool is that???
As a writing teacher, I had to notice the different argumentative moves made by the two: Tatum was pretty much saying don't do it because I don't want you to do it--assuming that her desires carry weight with the elves, I suppose. Gabe, however, used evidence. He listed all the things he does to be a good, productive member of the family--to have value--and ended with a call to action: a letter back from Santa reprimanding his mother.
I know I love these two kids, so I find everything they do cute. But I also look at this experience from the perspective of someone who writes and who teaches writing and writing teachers. I love that these two see power in writing. And that they turn to writing to accomplish their own purposes. To me, that is the goal of my teaching--to help writers feel that power and that desire. I am not their teachers, but I am a proud grandmother who is glad someone who believes as I do is teaching my grandchildren!