Tuesday Slice: Fresh air

Fresh air is hard to come by for this librarian during the school year; without effort, my forays outside consist of walks from home to car and car to school.  So yesterday morning I tied on my sneakers and headed outside for a five a.m. walk-and-jog.

The cool air gave me a muggy embrace.  My quiet footsteps were almost drowned out by the sound of traffic on the not-so-distant highway; I was surprised by that dull roar so early in the day.  The darkness seemed to spur me to move faster, as I walked from streetlight to streetlight, shining my cellphone on the pavement when I was leery of my next step.

Turning into the cul-de-sac, my thoughts always go to coyotes.  They haven't been spotted for a while....but what would I do if I encountered one on the road?  This morning gave me no answers; my only visible companion was a lone firefly blinking in a grassy lot, hinting that our summer isn't quite over yet, despite the return to school.

Reaching the end of the loop, I jogged the straightaway path back to my house, my heavy footfalls competing with nightsongs of crickets and frogs.  A lone car passed me, lights shining ahead in this darkening-before-dawn.  I turned at the entrance to the hike-n-bike and retraced my steps.

Four circuits from home to cul-de-sac to home again, almost a mile-and-a-half done.  I took a few deep breaths of the moist air, and winced at the loud creak of my front door.  My day of walls and windows lay ahead.

Tuesday slice: My dress is ready

This dress has been hanging, waiting to be worn, for quite awhile.

I remember how happy I felt when it arrived in the mail.  I was even more excited when I found a shrug in my sweater pile that matched!  I decided it was the perfect dress to wear to my daughter's college graduation.

That day dawned bright and cold--too cold to be comfortable wearing a dress for an outdoor ceremony, and I am all about comfort.  On went the slacks and sweater set instead.

Back home, the dress and shrug went back to the hook on my closet door. 

A few weeks ago, I sat down on my bed and started planning my work outfits, as I have done for many years.  (The habit started when my husband worked evenings, and I had to dress for my day job in the dark.)  

After writing down jeans and comfy clothes for casual days of workshops and prep time, I came to the first day of school. Looking up from my paper, I saw the dress, hanging there since May.  Yes!  

With nude-colored ballet flats and a sparkly floral bracelet, I'll feel like the prettiest librarian in the school.  Don't you think the butterflies are appropriate, since students and teachers alike tend to have a few in their stomach on the first day?

Tuesday Slice: Twelve hundred

Twelve hundred has been the number of the summer, the number going into this school year.

Twelve hundred means two new portables partially blocking the view from our circulation desk, numbers five and six in our portable village.  I think our campus was built for eight, maybe nine hundred.

Twelve hundred means planning for automobile congestion outside, and pedestrian congestion inside, during transition times of the day.

Twelve hundred means losing instructional time to avoid hallway traffic.

Twelve hundred means four more teaching positions, and moving our meetings this morning from the library to the cafeteria to accommodate our growing faculty.

Twelve hundred means stretching professional materials and kits a bit more thinly.

Twelve hundred means possibly fewer author visits, as I jockey for space and time to provide seating for grade levels of nine or more classes.

Twelve hundred means more doubled classes in the library, more fidgeting with the schedule.

Twelve hundred elicits gasps and worried looks from colleagues, some of whom have been there, done that, with mixed results.

Twelve hundred has this usually optimistic realist non-worrier worried about providing personalized, quality library service to my learning community.

I know that once the school year starts, I will be happier in my element, promoting literacy and matching kids with books and supporting my teachers.  I will be so busy that worrying will go by the wayside.

But for right now, the uncertainty is about to do me in.

Perseids

Twice, I padded outside

Walked past my neighbor's house on the right

The street light at my back, but cupping my eyes with my hands anyway.

Craning my neck to look up at the sky

Waiting for my eyes to adjust, focusing in the dark

Wishing those wisps of clouds to go away.

Did you see me, first at just past midnight

Then four hours later, again

Standing in the middle of the street in pajamas and flipflops?

I was hoping to make a dozen wishes

But given old eyes, or too much manmade light, or cloud wisps

Only one was to be had.

It will have to do.

My footsteps were noisy, crunching acorns and leaves

On my way to the door, trying not to wake the dreamers.

Tuesday Slice: Gone are the days

"Gone are the days".

You might think that the title of this post refers to the end of summer break.  In a way, it does; yesterday was the beginning of my work calendar, and it was spent in an all-day meeting with all the librarians in our district.

It was a great day of teambuilding, reviewing necessary details, and planning.  One of our breakout sessions was spent in newly-formed committees.  Our director had chosen the committee tasks, and we were free to choose whichever topic spoke to our strengths or weaknesses.  Since I have a personal goal to blog more about the library this year (on my "More Books Than Time" page), I decided to participate in the "Advocacy/ Public Relations" group. 

We covered several points in our discussion, ranging from data collection to infographics to Twitter and Facebook updates.  There was talk of monthly reports to our administrators and district-level reports that could be generated for our director's use.  A couple of librarians pointed out that we need to keep our phone at hand, to take pictures and post/Tweet/share on a regular basis (while protecting the anonymity of students whose parents haven't permitted public postings of photographs, of course).

I get the need to advertise what we do in the library.  With all the negative publicity about education circulating these days, it is now up to educators--librarians included--to expose the real, hard work that goes on in schools every day.  Our state teacher of the year is prompting us to share positive articles of teaching and learning as well. And while I understand the need to promote the good things that are happening in our educational settings, I also feel a bit chafed regarding this new role of publicist.  Part of me wants to just live in the moment, teach my lessons, promote literacy, build relationships with my learning community, do my job in peace and be trusted and respected for doing so, without the need to advertise on what feels like a global scale.

I guess those days are gone.   

Tuesday Slice: Sharing what you know

The class roster was so short, I was worried our session would be called off.  No notice of cancellation arrived, so my co-presenter and I proceeded as planned, and arrived at the high school campus a couple of hours early to set up.  Good timing, as we had technical glitches to work out.  It's situations like those that make me glad I know people like my Google-Certified-Educator co-presenter.

Four out of the six enrollees arrived.  We launched into our presentation called "The Writer-Librarian:  Why You Should Be Blogging."  

Questions were asked, tips were shared, inspiration developed for both attendees and presenters.  My co-presenter and I blog from different approaches (hers more technical, mine more prosaic), hopefully reinforcing the idea that blogging is a limitless venture, open to the interpretation of the author.  

We went off course several times, talking about popular culture, library events, personal interests, technical woes and victories.  All fodder for blogging, I reminded our participants.

This is only the second time I've attempted being a presenter; it's the first time I"ve felt that we accomplished what we set out to do.

It feels good to share what you know, and have it well-received.

Tuesday Slice: Twelve ahead, plus two

It shouldn't be surprising that tension was high in the house last week. Everyone's feelings were swinging from excitement to sorrow, almost on an hourly basis, our hearts at the ends of pendulums suspended by taut heartstrings.

A few times, the strings broke.  Tears, anger, frustration, withdrawal if it happened on the downswing; bouts of laughter, impromptu hugging, jumping up and down on the upswing.  Then practicalities would set in, and we were back at work.

It is work, packing one's life into two suitcases, a carry-on, and a laptop bag.  There were last-minute shopping and bank runs.  The traveler, Virgo that she is, packed and repacked days ahead, wisely weighing her luggage to avoid extra fees.  Her father, ever the problem-solver, figured out a way for her to handle the luggage on her own at her arrival.  Her mother was more worried about making memories with favorite family meals and a girls' night out.  Her brother joined her on Pokemon hunts and video game playing, both of them staying up past their parents' bedtimes.

Friday came quickly.  We were out the door on time, and arrived in Houston a few hours later, with the added good fortune of hotel rooms ready before noon.  The traveler went into work mode, meeting up with fellow employees to take a shuttle to orientation. 

A reception at the residence of the Consul General of Japan brought everyone together again.  The friendliness of the staff, coordination of the JET program, and sparkling personalities of the JET applicants added to the excitement of this new venture.  Speeches and toasts were made, and then it was back to the hotel for one last family meal.  The traveler visited with us for awhile in our room, but left to join her roommate for the night.

Sleep was hard to come by that evening, and no one was overly hungry for breakfast in the morning--except the brother, who had chocolate cake left over from the night before.  We went to help the traveler and her roommate with their luggage, meeting the rest of the group crowding into the hotel lobby. Seeing them onto the bus, we left ahead of the shuttles and waited for their arrival at the airport. 

It takes awhile to check in a group of more than three dozen fliers, but we didn't mind; it gave us time to talk and meet some of the other travelers.  

Bags checked, boarding pass and passport in hand...it was time to say goodbye at the security gate.  Three rounds of hugs, and she was off.  We watched through teary eyes on a balcony overhead as she made her way through the scans and on to the terminal, waiting as she laced on her purple converse sneakers.  With a wave and blowing kisses, she joined the others heading towards the international terminal.  We didn't leave until her feet disappeared beneath the ceiling line below us.

It was a quiet ride back to the hotel.  As we loaded the car, planes flew over us every few minutes, and we tried to guess which one was hers, saying goodbye to each just in case.

**************

The traveler arrived safely in Tokyo thirteen hours later.  

For the next year or two, a piece of our hearts will be twelve hours ahead, plus two.