Roots and Wings
I am in Wheatland, Wyoming, with my writing family. Today we had difficult deep discussions about motivation and assessment and what makes Professional Development for teachers valuable and not so valuable. We started the day writing a poem guided by the digits in our phone number. We ended the day with a writing marathon and a meal together. Tomorrow we will welcome teachers for a day of professional development offered by teachers for teachers. No "sit and get"- this is down and dirty PD with practical application to take back to the classroom. Tomorrow some of our participants will present PD to their colleagues for the very first time. I love watching that happen. Tomorrow our future teacher leaders are born.
Wheatland is home to me. I moved to Wyoming at the beginning of eighth grade. It's where i met my dearest friend. It's where I met my husband. It holds so many memories. Most of these memories are happy ones. Today we had a mini writing marathon that began in the outdoor classroom area of the high school. I expected to spend the ten minutes of writing time reminiscing about the fun had there. I thought I'd write about the time a classmate's car was put down inside the classroom by some burly football players or the time I was running across the mall area and my foot caught in my long coat and I slid across not so gracefully while students in Math class looked on. Instead when I picked up my pen I was facing the door where I remember a teacher walking out in tears after we lost two classmates in a car accident. I remembered the pain of that loss as though it was yesterday and not so many years ago. Writing can always surprise me. Sometimes the pen reveals things that have been locked away.
I went for a run after dinner and while running a new song by the Zac Brown Band called "Roots" came on my playlist. It made me think about my own roots and how the people I encountered in Wheatland and the joys and heartaches experienced here shaped me and keep me grounded. I am rooted here where I worked with a boss who told me I could do anything I wanted to do and could be anything I wanted to be and I believed him every time he said it. I am rooted here where amazingly gifted teachers made me love education and learning and gave me a desire to teach. I am rooted firmly in Wheatland soil.
My writing family and the experiences through Wyoming Writing Project, however, gives me wings. The people I work with and the teachers we meet everywhere we visit help me fly and take away any fears of leaving the ground with my writing and my teaching. We have a community that is safe and supportive and it allows me to take risks and continue to be a learner.
Today we learned about each other through an activity where we identified our directional styles. Norths tend to be the people who jump in with both feet and get things started. Souths are the emotionally intuitive ones in our lives. They want people to feel heard and valued and that's their priority. Easts are big picture people. They are the ones that excitedly exclaim, "I've got an idea!". Wests, well, I'm a West and I suffer from Type A disease. Wests like details and lists and organization. We talked about how we centrally identify with one of these directions but it depends on contexts and we aren't always that one directional style. We talked about how our style can be an obstacle and how our style can be a benefit to others. This year's group is very balanced. I think that is one reason why we connected so quickly and have built a community rapidly.
The directional/compass activity and discussions made me think more deeply about the East I am married to and led to a writing today that I will add in closing.
Wheatland is home to me. I moved to Wyoming at the beginning of eighth grade. It's where i met my dearest friend. It's where I met my husband. It holds so many memories. Most of these memories are happy ones. Today we had a mini writing marathon that began in the outdoor classroom area of the high school. I expected to spend the ten minutes of writing time reminiscing about the fun had there. I thought I'd write about the time a classmate's car was put down inside the classroom by some burly football players or the time I was running across the mall area and my foot caught in my long coat and I slid across not so gracefully while students in Math class looked on. Instead when I picked up my pen I was facing the door where I remember a teacher walking out in tears after we lost two classmates in a car accident. I remembered the pain of that loss as though it was yesterday and not so many years ago. Writing can always surprise me. Sometimes the pen reveals things that have been locked away.
I went for a run after dinner and while running a new song by the Zac Brown Band called "Roots" came on my playlist. It made me think about my own roots and how the people I encountered in Wheatland and the joys and heartaches experienced here shaped me and keep me grounded. I am rooted here where I worked with a boss who told me I could do anything I wanted to do and could be anything I wanted to be and I believed him every time he said it. I am rooted here where amazingly gifted teachers made me love education and learning and gave me a desire to teach. I am rooted firmly in Wheatland soil.
My writing family and the experiences through Wyoming Writing Project, however, gives me wings. The people I work with and the teachers we meet everywhere we visit help me fly and take away any fears of leaving the ground with my writing and my teaching. We have a community that is safe and supportive and it allows me to take risks and continue to be a learner.
Today we learned about each other through an activity where we identified our directional styles. Norths tend to be the people who jump in with both feet and get things started. Souths are the emotionally intuitive ones in our lives. They want people to feel heard and valued and that's their priority. Easts are big picture people. They are the ones that excitedly exclaim, "I've got an idea!". Wests, well, I'm a West and I suffer from Type A disease. Wests like details and lists and organization. We talked about how we centrally identify with one of these directions but it depends on contexts and we aren't always that one directional style. We talked about how our style can be an obstacle and how our style can be a benefit to others. This year's group is very balanced. I think that is one reason why we connected so quickly and have built a community rapidly.
The directional/compass activity and discussions made me think more deeply about the East I am married to and led to a writing today that I will add in closing.
She doesn't do well with uncertainty. In fact, sometimes it paralyzes her. It's a blessing at times the way she keeps things neat and tidy. It's a curse many times when she struggles with big things like faith, love, hope, trust. Things that keep her up at night: Did I set the alarm? What time is that meeting? Why did I say yes to that project? Where is my wallet? Did I put that food away in the fridge? Where's the dog? Is his age going to take him away from us tonight? What going to happen when I am old like my parents? Am I prepared for those days? ... The voices go on until she turns on the tv to drown them out.
God sent him to her. God knew she would need him to make her laugh, to calm her down, to show her that she can't always be in control and that's okay.
She needed him to get sick to teach her to live every moment and to remind her to let go and simply be.
She needed him to be well so she was not alone as she pondered life.
God knew. He sent him to her to rescue her from herself and, in turn, she keeps him from floating away on a sea of dreams.
They meet in the middle. It's a messy middle and can be a tug of war at times but she loves it and she cherishes it as she looks at him and finally drifts off to sleep.
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