Tuesday Slice: The passenger side

One way to open your eyes is to ask yourself, 

"What if I had never seen this before? 

What if I knew I would never see it again?"

--Rachel Carson

As an undergraduate, I prided myself on my long-distance driving skills.  College was here in Austin and home was El Paso, five hundred eighty-seven miles due west.  I inherited the family car when they moved to Germany halfway through my freshman year, and I made the drive each holiday, spring and semester break to spend time with my high school friends and my grandparents, who were long-term house-sitting for us.

As the driver, I had to pay attention to the road conditions, look out for deer, gauge food, bathroom, and fuel stops.  After the second or third trip, the latter became routine--Isaack's Restaurant in Junction, the McDonald's in Fort Stockton, a quick on-and-off the highway gas station in Van Horn.  The focus was on getting there, sometimes in thirteen hours, sometimes in nine.  The trip was already long, so there was little incentive to sightsee.

Fast forward a few years, and I married a man who prefers to do the driving.  Now I get to open my eyes to a passenger's view of the highway.  On a trip this past weekend, I saw

• a three hundred sixty degree view of the sky, filled with gray rainless clouds
• twin calves with unusual, matching markings
• a gray-haired, scruffy, paunch-bellied man on a tasselled motorcycle, no helmet, no gear, just a brown cigarette dangling from his lips as he rode
• a caravan of cars from Minnesota, loaded with people and furniture
• vehicles from twenty-three different states (license plate game)
• the Fort Worth skyline, and planes flying in and out of the DFW airport
• cars of all shapes, sizes, and conditions
• fields of wildflowers in orange, yellow, and white
• tall wild grass waving in the wind
• billboards and church spires, dilapidated barns, almost-abandoned shopping malls

There's a good chance I'll get to see many of these things again, with an undergraduate son going to school up that road.  I'll enjoy the view from the passenger's side while I can.

Tuesday Slice: We grew together

Today our fifth grade class will be recognized for their achievements, and then walk the halls to be hailed by their younger schoolmates. In two days they depart elementary school, middle school on the other side of the summer horizon.

Elementary years seem to go on forever, especially if you stay in the same school.  Six years from kindergarten through fifth grade--more time on one campus than any other to come.  This is the first group of students that I've shared that forever with as a librarian.  They were five years old, and I was their first introduction to the wonder that is the school library.  Thousands of books waited to be chosen and taken home; all they needed was a shelf marker and their library card.

"I can take any book I want?"
"Help me find a book about dinosaurs."
"Can I get one off the top?"
"I have this one at home!"

"Yes, you can have any book you enjoy."
"Sure, the dinosaur section is over here."
"You can always get a book from the top.  We want you to do that!"
"Are you sure you want to take the same book you have at home?"

Oh, but before looking and checking out, we had read-aloud time in the Book Nook.  Learning to sit for a bit, keep our hands to ourselves, and listen to a story.  What did we learn?  How did it make us feel?  Did you like it, or not?--and it's always okay if you don't like it, not every book is for every reader.  

"Ms Margocs, please play the color game to leave the Book Nook today!"
"Okay...if you have words on your shirt, you may get a shelf marker.  If you have stripes on your pants, get a shelf marker.  If you are wearing black anywhere..."

At their request, the fifth graders returned to the Book Nook a couple of weeks past, their growing bodies barely squeezing into the space, feet flat on the floor where legs once dangled.  We read silly books, and they laughed at jokes they wouldn't have gotten six years ago.  I reminded those that have been here the longest that we grew together, they as students, myself as a librarian.  My experience with them in every grade has informed and shaped my teaching, my librarianship, for all of our students.

They began the year by helping our kindergarteners learn how to use shelf markers, and they'll end their year with kindergarteners, and one misty-eyed, appreciative librarian,  applauding them as they walk the halls, on their way to middle school and beyond.

Thank you, my fifth grade students, for being the best teachers a fledgling librarian could ask for. 

Tuesday Slice: I need a day...

I need a day
To wake up when my body wants to
Drink coffee at my leisure
With no particular place to go

I need a day
When my body feels whole, refreshed
I'm not too tired to exercise
Movement bringing a smile to my face

I need a day
With no deadlines, no rushing
No planner with lists
Except this one:
          Sunshine
          Nature
          Books
          Art
          Rest. 


******
With eight days of school left, two more days of testing, and thirteen days of work, I woke up with a sore throat this morning. This post is wishful thinking about summer break! 

Tuesday Slice: Celebrating a milestone

The dinner reception was well-attended.  Employees from multiple campuses gathered to celebrate milestones in their district careers--twenty, twenty-five, thirty, even forty years.  Many were retiring.

This is my twentieth year:  eleven spent running ARDs (IEP meetings to non-TX folks) in our DAEP, three teaching in an elementary resource setting, and now six as a librarian--a job I truly love.

The meal was delicious, and I enjoyed seeing colleagues I've known since the beginning of my employment, most from my ARD facilitating days. My registrar was also celebrating her twentieth, and my "big boss", director of library services, was there to cheer me on.  We were announced, had a photo op with our superintendent, shook hands with board members, and got a congratulatory gift.  All in all, a nice evening.

And then it was back to work.  Not a mention of the anniversary at our faculty meeting, and I thought the festivities were over.  Moving on...

Friday began with our final all-school assembly for the year.  For once, I wasn't on the agenda to present a library award, so I hung out at the back of the crowd.  We listened to guest speakers, recognized student achievements, and watched volunteers and Eagle Scouts receive awards. One of our assistant principals came to the front and asked, "Who loves books more than anyone?"  Most of our students raised their hands, which made me smile.  Then she laughed, and said, "I meant to say--which teacher on our campus loves books more than anyone?"

I was called to the front, and received praise and roses, along with our registrar.  That was lovely--but the raised hands of those readers was the highest praise of all.

Did I mention that I love my job?

Tuesday Slice: The pot on the stove

It was an old house when we bought it in 1991.  Seven months married, we had been casually looking at homes for sale, some newer in subdivisions to the east, some older in the neighborhood in which we were renting.  The newer ones had more space inside, but less of a yard; you could spit on your neighbors' windows on either side without leaning out your own.  

We stumbled across this one quite by chance.  Sitting vacant for two years, the price was right, the yard was huge.  With the hike-and-bike entrance on the right and space to spare on the left, there would be no window-spitting.

Practical and almost-poor, we painted the interior but left the carpet in anticipation of childhood juice stains and muddy feet; the carpet is still here, despite several rounds of browsing over flooring, resulting in nothing more than sample tiles hiding behind the china cabinet.  Over the years, appliances have been replaced and the exterior has been painted.  A post-inheritance splurge landscaped our front and side yards.  The roof has been replaced once?  Twice?

Which leads to the pot.  During the last few rainstorms, we noticed water pooling on our stovetop.  My husband investigated, and it turns out that some caulking is loose near a vent.  The roof is fine, the attic is fine, but when the wind blows rain in a certain direction, it runs down the vent.  He hasn't had time to climb up and seal it yet.

Thunderstorms are forecasted for twelve of the next fifteen days.

We may not have a lot of money, but we have a pot to drip in.

Photo by marcelo

Tuesday Slice: There ain't no cranky...

"There ain't no cranky like the last-day-of-TLA cranky," the sharp-dressed women declared, waiting ahead of me in the Starbucks line at the hotel across the street from the convention center.  I nodded my head in agreement.  "Everyone is just done," she added.  I concurred again.  "Hopefully the coffee will help," I replied.

Four days of waking up just before 4am, to catch either the 604am or 633am train downtown.  Two 7am meetings. Five hours of Tech Camp, beginning with lots of tips from Richard Byrnes of "Free Tech for Teachers". Three hours of "speed dating" half-a-dozen Bluebonnet Award Nominee authors with another half-dozen activities viewed and ten books signed for me and our library.  An opening session with Sylvia Acevedo, rocket scientist/ CEO of Girl Scouts, USA via Skype and a closing session of heartbreaking, masterful storytelling from Scott Pelley of "60 Minutes". Seven break-out sessions on culturally responsive pedagogy, student-centered librarianship, Texas Library Standards, a picture book artist panel, administrative involvement in library programming (with my principal!), deep connections between readers and text, and how to use Google Keep.

Let's not forget the three learning lunches--tech camp, database offerings, Bluebonnet Award presentation--and one breakfast with my Teacher Day @TLA attendees, all of us starry-eyed over Kate DiCamillo, Chris Van Dusen, and Mr. Schu's presentation as we munched on eggs and bacon and caffeinated ourselves after the 604am train ride.

And the exhibit hall, oh my.  Bumping into favorite local authors, sharing titles with a fellow district librarian, finding a booth of Indian kidlit--so needed for my campus.  Gifts for my assistant and mentee, new library shirts for me (my yearly splurge!).  Confirming my book fair, getting posters from my favorite jobber, and grabbing free books along the way.  

So yes, by Thursday morning, many of us were tired, ready to get back to our libraries and our lives.  Our minds were buzzing, our arms tired from carrying heavy bags of books, our notebooks brimming with ideas to ponder and hopefully implement in the coming school year.

There ain't no cranky like the last-day-of-TLA cranky...but there ain't no event like the Texas Library Association Annual Conference.  Sign me up for next year!

Tuesday Slice: Sunlight through eyelids

The train rocks back and forth on the tracks
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack
Now fast, then slow
Cli-cke-ty-claaaack, cli-cke-ty-claaaack
The recorded voice announcing the next station

"Next station, Howard.
Siguiente estación, Howard."
The aisle empties, then refills
So tired, I am grateful to be sitting

My seatmate makes no motion to get up
I readjust my heavy bags on the floor
Grip the handles tightly, and close my eyes

We break free from the city, and sun warms the cabin
Orange-red light blinking through my eyelids
As we pass light posts and trees
Now slow, then fast
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack.

****************
I am attending our annual Texas Library Association conference in my home city this year--one of the few times I take the commuter train downtown.  How nice it is to avoid traffic and parking fees!