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Showing posts from February, 2015

Last week, I taught for 2 days with no voice. Why?

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(I wrote this a week ago while recovering from the strep throat that my students gifted me. I suspect that I became sick while I cleaned up the snotty tissues that they left on tables. No worries, though. They also gifted me warm tea and chocolate to help me feel better :) ) I’m trying to teach class today with no voice. Why? Because I’m sick, but I’m also stubborn. I figure that even on a bad day, I’m probably better for my kids than a last-minute sub. Because I didn’t want to leave “busy work,” and we had something we absolutely needed to do today. Most of all, because I felt too lousy this morning to wrap my mind around creating sub plans and calling in. Too sick to call in sick : is this just a teacher-thing? I wonder. My 7 th period is (mostly) completing their collaborative and self-evaluations as instructed, so I thought I’d share my observations after a day of teaching with no voice. Here’s what I found: If you have successfully created a collaborative learning en

Perception is Everything.

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I hadn't been to the nursing home that housed my great-grandfather, Pappy, since I was a small child. As I left his daughter and my grandma there today, I noted just how much smaller it seems. Once cavernous rooms and long corridors have, through the magic of time and perspective, become cramped and confining. This place that once evoked feelings of freedom and exploration now seems more warehouse, hospital, prison, waiting room. I often credit that nursing home with teaching me the patience that has come in so handy as a wife, mom,  friend , and  teacher . Visits there meant visiting not just Pappy, but a variety of other personalities as well. While Grandma gave her dad a haircut and a shave, Dorothy and I played ball. She dropped her arm down next to the wheel of her chair and rolled her soft, pink therapy ball to me. Sometimes, its trajectory was so far off that I would dutifully run down the corridor and fetch it before rolling it back to her. We played until I wore Dorot

Funkytown

“Gotta make a move to a town that's right for me Town to keep me movin', keep me groovin' with some energy Well, I talk about it, talk about it Talk about it, talk about it Talk about, talk about Talk about movin'” I can feel the sweat pooling in the small of my back, but the breeze created by sheer speed blows my hair back from my face. A whistle sounds. “Slow down!” I keep skating, slowing my pace just slightly – enough to keep the skating rink monitor from making me sit in time-out again for moving dangerously fast through the other skaters. I won’t run into them though. This is what I’m good at. This is my domain. Here, I escape the outside world. Music and movement meld together to create a euphoric high. Rollerskates are natural extensions of my legs. They make me taller, faster, and more coordinated. No one can catch me when I’m on skates. I’m invincible. Incredible. So, so fast. I secretly enter races with the older girls because I know I