DC

So I had lunch in the basement of the Senate building today--along with a jillion other people. Then, before my appointment with my Congressman (I got there early), I visited the basement of his building, too. Again, LOTS of people. And hardly anyone on the streets. I know because I couldn't find my way back to the hotel and tried to find people to ask for help. Amazing how few people there were! One of the Senator's chief of staff told us the building was like an anthill. Everything they need is there: food, laundry, gym, mail. . . So I was wondering if being inside all the time makes a person look at the world differently. I mean, it's a grey, misty day here in DC. I have a picture that I can't seem to upload. But it's pretty. The cherry trees are in bloom. Does anyone who works here see?

losing community

I do a lot of reading about online communities: what creates them, how "real" they are, their dangers, and so on. I have not really participated actively in one until this month. And I'm thinking today about the online communities that have been created by the SOLS challenge.
I "slice" with my students, too, and I have noticed an effect from this activity. About half of the class participates--it isn't mandatory--and I see a difference in the way those of us who are participating interact in class. We KNOW things about each other--our fears, our challenges, the details of life that don't usually get shared in class. I feel closer to my students, and I think they feel closer to each other because of the online community we have built outside of class. It's what I always hope for in a writing class--and we've built it. Through writing, yes, but outside of class. Interesting.
In addition, I feel that I have some online "friends" who respond to my posts with some regularity and whose posts I respond to. I have found myself doing some things I never anticipated I would: replying to others' blogs and looking forward to the comments that follow mine, wondering what I wrote that might spark a response in others. I don't know these people in the sense that I would recognize them on the street or that I know what they do or where they live. I only know them because for a few moments in March, we had connections: our lives intersected and were enriched because of the words (ideas) we shared. How cool is that?! I never would have anticipated it. I joined because I needed to get back into the habit of daily writing. I got that. . . and so much more.
A few weeks ago, one of my students wrote that he thought he would miss this SOLS connection when it ended. I am feeling that way today. I am flying to Washington D. C. to try to talk to legislators about funding for National Writing Project. I don't know what my online access will be in the next two days. I hope I will be able to "slice." If not, I will miss it even sooner than I intended.

blushing

Yesterday in class, I did something quite embarrassing. After most of the laughter quieted, one of my students said I should "slice" about it, and since it still is making me blush to think of it, I guess I will.
I currently teach pre-service teachers in a private religious university. Yesterday, in our discussion about grading, I intended to say grade sheets, but I accidentally slipped my vowel from a long "e" to a short "i." First, incredulity--on my part and my students' faces. Then they laughed. And me? Red face. Hot face. Cover your face. Why is that an instinct? Do we, like my grandson, think that if we close our eyes no one can see us?
The problem after that was that every time I attempted to say the word sheet, the other word felt like it was going to slip out! I changed to rubric and paper. This probably isn't a big deal to some people. But that isn't a word I say--and even if it were, it wouldn't be one I would say in this setting. So, like most embarrassing moments, it flashes back into my mind and then my face responds, blushing all over again. Even here, in my office, where no one is watching.

What if?

In addition to Two Writing Teachers :), I also RSS Interesting Nonfiction for Kids (INK), a blog written collaboratively by authors of nonfiction picture and YA books. Today's post was writen by David Schwartz--and got me thinking. Here's part of his post:

I think parents and teachers (not to mention media providers) would do children and our future a great service if they encouraged wondering and the asking of questions rather than simply consuming and accepting information and stimuli. Children need to interact, not just imbibe, what the world sends their way. . . .Case in point: I once met a 6th grade science teacher who had asked her students in a well-heeled public school to put some small piece of the natural world (a few plants and/or small animals) and temporarily transfer it to a contained environment (shoebox, glass jar, etc.) for an hour of observing, speculating, hypothesizing and experimenting. Everyone in the class thought the assignment was too hard. They didn't know what to do for an hour. The teacher lamented that if she had asked them to write a 10-page report on Einstein, no one would have batted an eye.
You might say the whole class -- or a whole generation -- has a "what if?" deficit.
What if we started a nationwide discussion on what to do about it?

In his post, Schwartz lists his own "what if" questions. What a great way to get me thinking! So here is my list of "what ifs" for today (it's actually kind of difficult to get started--but really fun once my mind starts going there!):
* What if we could choose one day a year to live inside our favorite books or stories? What would change--in the book and in our lives?
* What if rain went from the ground up, instead of from the sky, down?
* What if broccoli and cauliflower tasted like chocolate and caramel?
* What if people could run faster or somehow move faster (think my way to a place) than cars or planes? Would we even need them? Would we crash in space as we tele-ported ourselves about?
* What if we were required at the end of each day to list five things we'd noticed in the world that day? Would we pay more attention?
* What if we all had to use a minimum of 10 similes a day? More use of "like" or more effective use???
* What if spring flowers bloomed for 4 months instead of just 6 weeks?
* What if days were 36 hours instead of 24? Would we be in less of a hurry?

Taking time

I keep being reminded: we need to make good choices for how we spend our time. My friend whose husband is fighting cancer went with him and their children to the Jazz game last night (in a special suite to protect him). When I asked her about it today, she said they didn't even realize that the Jazz lost--they were having so much fun. I was so happy for them to have the time together--and I am reminded (again) that being with people we love is what matters. Yes, we have to work and fill the car with gas and pick up the dry cleaning. But when we can pick, we should spend time with the people we love. It won't matter if it rains during the picnic or if the dinner doesn't turn out as we had hoped. It's the time and the memories that will matter.

Writing

Last night we watched the new movie Limitless. In it, the main character takes a pill that let's him access 100% of his brain (under the premise that we normally access only 20%). He is a writer who can't write until he takes the pill--and then he can write. Just like that! The scene where he suddenly begins writing is visually intriguing: letters start falling from the ceiling, just a few at first and then more and more, faster and faster, until he is surrounded by letters. He finishes the book in record time. As if it were that easy. Some days, I wish it were. Not the pill, which is scary, but the words falling around me? That I would like.

imaginary driving

I haven't been home before my grandson's bedtime this week. A combination of work and church-related events kept me away. Last night, though, I got home around 5. He must have heard the garage door opening because, before I could even pull the car in fully, he had opened the door from the house and was running out to greet me. I turned the car off, preparing to get out. Gabe, though, wanted to play IN the car. So I pulled him in and we proceeded to play: we pretended to drive places, to say "hello" and "goodbye" as we went, to push buttons (he loves turning the hazards on and off, on and off), to put the keys in and take them out, to pretend to shift gears, to climb to the back seat (he did, I didn't) and back again, to put on our seat belts and take them off again. There was so much playing to be done in the car, even though it was turned off and sitting in the garage. We played for nearly a half hour, until one of us (I'm not sure which one)turned on the car alarm. I had trouble figuring out how to turn it off again, so we decided it was time to go IN the house and play cars there. I was reminded, in a week with lots of work and lots of tasks, how necessary it is sometimes to take time for imagination. How relaxing and refreshing it is to play and pretend. A two-year-old can teach us that.