LANNY BALL, Literacy Specialist

Slice of Life Challenge day 4 #sol18

A small moment story about the kindness of a stranger…

A Little Kindness from a Stranger

Check engine light. Something most of us abhor. But they do a job, right? An important job. They inform us when something is awry within a vital material possession: our vehicle. In my youth, no such technology existed. In fact, it’s difficult to imagine where a check engine light would even have been situated in a 1967 Volkswagen Bug. But modern cars are able to let us know when something is wrong, even when we can’t detect what that something is ourselves.

As the snow began to overtake the rain, I jammed my 2009 Honda Pilot into park. Wind whipped into my face as I made the reluctant mini-trek into the repair shop, umbrella in hand. If tamping down anxiety were a skill I could monetize, I’d be on the cover of Fortune Magazine. But that’s unfortunately the chief effect a future car repair produces in me.

“Can I help you?” came the voice from the buoyant, greasy kid behind the counter. Approaching him, I provided my information and he located me in the appointment system. “Okay, we’ll give you a call once we figure out what’s going on with your vehicle,” he assured me. I thanked him and headed toward the exit. “Wait a minute, you walking?” he asked. I responded affirmatively, briefly explaining that I did not live far. Maybe 15 minutes. “You wanna ride?” he offered. I paused. Glancing through the shop windows, I could see today’s Nor’Easter generously sharing plenty of wind and precipitation. This would be no easy walk, but I had come prepared with my… well, my umbrella.

“I could drive him home.”

To my right, I turned to see from whence this voice originated. Sitting calmly in a waiting room chair sat a woman. Adorned in a sand-colored camel hair coat, tightly coiffed blonde hair, the woman was perhaps sixty years old or so.

I had never seen her in my life.

Our eyes met. “Well, unless you’re an axe murderer?” she quipped, cracking a polite smile. Chuckling and returning the smile, I explained that no, I was actually a teacher. Not much of a risk. “Come on,” she motioned as she stood up, “I’ll drive you.”

Apparently I had not tripped the woman’s check engine light. Nothing awry here. And grateful I was for this unexpected kindness from a stranger.

Slice of Life Challenge day 3 #sol18

As educators, we live in trying times. Answers are not black and white. How much do we shield our kids from darkness?

A Different Climate

Shuffling into the library media center, I lowered myself into a chair near the back. Around me, I watched as my colleagues straggled in, weary from a long day of teaching. Tension seemed to permeate our air, but it might have been just my interpretation. Teachers huddled around the snack cart recently wheeled in, making small talk about the day.

Finally, after we had all settled into chairs, our principal began. “Has anyone heard anything about the upcoming student walk-out?” she asked. Our discussion that day pivoted in a direction that, I suppose was not completely unfamiliar, and yet it felt unfamiliar. In light of the most recent school shooting tragedy in Parkland, Florida, what exactly is our role as educators? I listened as my colleagues shared their thoughts and ideas around ways we might support our students in the wake of yet another school-related tragedy. Of course, this incident is one-of-too-many our nation has had to endure over the last nearly-twenty years. And yet, in light of the recent mobilization and speaking out on the part of some of America’s student youth, something feels a bit different this time.

All of us agreed that, as educators, we would play no role in politicizing the issue. We also agreed that although our students are middle schoolers, parents possessed every right to shield their sons and daughters from such a horrific “news story.” And as I sat in my chair that day, I came to a realization I am sure many of us who work with students in educational settings have come to– we are living and teaching in a strange new era. An era with no easy answers. A time when grappling with unimaginable questions has become our reality. Questions like, how much shielding should we do? How much darkness is appropriate to keep our students away from? What level of acknowledgement is appropriate? And when it comes to student-initiated action meant to call attention to a glaring national problem, how do we position ourselves as adults of influence?

Not surprisingly, this agenda item dominated our faculty meeting. And while many positive ideas emerged from our discussion, resolution remained elusive. Our principal thanked us for the thoughtful exchange of ideas, and everyone rose to leave.

But one idea had definitely risen and crystallized that afternoon. One idea inarguably true. One that contained not one bit of murkiness or question: We love our students. And that is likely why all of us educate. In this new strange time that has shaken many of us to our very core, loving our students has not changed. Perhaps some comfort might be taken from just that.

Slice of Life Challenge day 2 #sol18

A new chapter of life has begun

A New Chapter

The day had finally arrived. Raindrops intermittently plopped onto my windshield, descending from gray clouds above. Reaching behind the driver’s seat of my 2003 Honda Element, I pulled a manila folder from my bag. Inside this folder was the “New Patient” form I had been asked to complete before arriving. Oddly, part of me remained in denial, even as I pulled the glass door open and entered Dr. David Sobel’s office. Looking around, I forced myself to remain calm as I cast my gaze upon the multitude of eyeglasses adorning the walls, backlit in high-tech displays. Beautiful people wearing glasses stared back at me from strategically placed posters. Yes, this dreaded day had come.

“Can I help you?” came the voice. It was then I knew for certain a new chapter of my life had started. Previous chapters included a protagonist with vibrant eyesight, able to read easily, even the smallest print from miles away. However, that protagonist – me – had noticed in recent months that…well, things had changed. Suddenly, reading a simple email on an iPhone, or a book with perhaps 10-point New Times Roman font, had become much more difficult, a far more laborious task than in previous decades. “You’re going to run out of arm!” a colleague joked at work one day, as she watched me holding my phone away from my face and squinting.

“Um, yes, I have a 4:30 appointment?” I replied to the woman standing behind the mahogany-colored table in Dr. Sobel’s foyer. After the obligatory exchange of pleasantries and insurance information, the woman led me to the back of the office and directed me to have a seat. The eye doctor would be right with me. He was.

Dr. Sobel invited me into his office. “Have a seat here in this red chair,” he said. Behind the red chair, I noticed a small Picasso painting positioned next to a colorful collage of John Lennon’s visage. Hidden speakers piped in smooth jazz- I recognized Spyro Gyra’s 1970’s hit “Morning Dance.” “Do you like this music?” I queried. “Oh yes, I’ve been a jazz fan my whole life,” the doctor replied. Wow, a jazz fan. I’m a jazz musician. Maybe this would be okay, I thought.

From this point forward, Dr. Sobel and I connected. He taught me amazing details about my eyes. He showed me what it will look like to be able to see again. He took incredibly detailed digital pictures of my eyeballs. And suddenly, I felt part of an adventure, instead of a victimized character enduring a dreaded ordeal. We exchanged stories of parents deceased too early. We talked of favorite musicians. We discussed our children. And, as it turns out, I still have incredible eyes – 20/10 vision! I just need some reading glasses.

Okay, not so bad.

Exiting the office that day, I felt struck by the turnaround. This was supposed to be terrible, this whole eye appointment thing. And yet, it had been anything but. In thinking about the new lenses I would soon be wearing to read print, I suddenly considered the perceptive lenses I brought with me as I arrived at the office. Those are lenses I can change anytime. Gotta remember that.

Slice of Life Challenge day 1 #sol18

It is time for the March Slice of Life Story Challenge! It is day one…here we go!

A Reflective Beginning

Stepping from the shower this morning, I gazed into the mirror. “Yes, it’s March,” I thought. Time for MY second annual participation in the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Story Challenge. Time to step up my writing game. Time to get up extra early. Time to up my active involvement in this wonderful community of writers known as “Slicers.” Time to post everyday. Time to comment everyday. Time to share.

For those of you who may be unfamiliar with this writing challenge, let me briefly explain: Every March for the last eleven years, the blog Two Writing Teachers has issued a challenge to educators and interested readers who wish to participate in some of the things I outlined above. It is a challenge to live like a writer for one month (and there are prizes!). This means, walking through life, being wide awake across each day, breathing in any all moments, and filtering those moments for their possible story grist potential. Every day, those of us participating write a small moment story, post it to our blogs, and comment on the small moment stories of others.

Since last April, my life changed drastically when I lost my beloved mother to cancer. And so, as I approach this year’s challenge, I am starkly cognizant of the fleeting nature of life. We simply do not know what the next day will bring, even what the next moment will bring. None of us do. But having selected “Grateful” as my one little word (#OLW18) to guide me this year, I have resolved to know that for each day- for each moment – I am grateful.

Wiping away the fog from the bathroom mirror, I studied my face. No, I cannot profess to be excited. But that’s okay. Last year I was excited. This year, not so much. But that’s okay. It really is okay. This morning I realized that looking forward to writing doesn’t always mean excitement. I would venture to guess that not all of us approach our writing with excitement every time we sit down to write. And that’s okay… isn’t it? A mentor once taught me that it is behind our commitments that we align our actions. Feelings are much more temporal. And so I suppose I might say that making a commitment to writing this month is exciting, as I know this journey- this “March” – will yield a positive outcome. An outcome for which I will certainly be grateful.

So here’s to all of us participating. And here’s to my 31 days of Gratitude. And… we are off! Let’s do this.

Language is Powerful

Placing my parents’ phone down on the cradle, I could feel the smile creep across my face. Immediately I grabbed the phone again and dialed up my friend, Eric. “You’ll never believe this!” I began excitedly. “I just got a call to play keyboards for one of Portland’s top bands!” Silence. Pause. Suddenly, it hit me. “Wait, did you give them my name?” I asked. This was the year 1990 and I had just graduated college. Eric’s response that day has stayed with me ever since. “Yes, I did,” he answered. I knew Eric, along with some college classmates, had recently opened an events planning company and was now in the business of hiring live music. “You’re going to be a successful musician, Lanny. And I’m going to be part of making sure that happens.”

A few weeks ago, I wrote about the power of language on my blog for teachers, Two Writing Teachers, for which I am a co-author. In that post, I work to make the point that when it comes supporting young writers – and, I would add, readers! – language really matters. A lot! As parents, mentors, and people of influence in the lives of kids, we are able to harness language to a number of different ends. One of those important ends, I believe, is creating, building up, encouraging, and inspiring readers and writers. As Peter Johnston writes in his incredible book, Choice Words (2004), “Language is not merely representational (though it is that); it is also constitutive. It actually creates realities and invites identities” (Stenhouse, p. 9). It is interesting to think, when it comes to supporting our kids as writers and readers, are we using language to empower and inspire? Or control and compel?

If we can agree that language invites identities, how might we think about using it to nurture the readerly and writerly identities of our middle school kids? Here are a few ideas:

Hold conversations for enrollment. For some of us, recruiting our kids into the ranks of readership and authorship is a tall order. Sometimes it helps to presence possibility; in other words, what if we worked to support our kids in seeing what could be possible when it comes to reading and writing? After a brief conversation that connects the two of you, try beginning a conversation with, “Hey, what would be possible if…?” We can ask our kids to dream big…be creative…invent possibilities! We might say enthusiastically, “If you were to become a huge, voracious reader, what would become possible?!” Or share examples of how writing has changed the course of world events. We might say, “Did you know our country began when a few people went into a small room and wrote something down (The Constitution)? Writing can change the world! You have so much to say that’s worth reading- what would be possible if you became an even stronger writer?”

Contrast the above language with, “You need to read more, it’s good for you”; or, “How come you’re still not using capitals at the beginnings of sentences? You’re in middle school now, so you need to remember that.”

Of course, we may not see the instant effects of such a course of action. But more than anything, if we begin to use language in service of nurturing an identity of literacy, positive effects are likely to sprout eventually.

Acknowledge what he or she is already doing well. This is sometimes called a “lens of strengths.” When we work to build on what our kids are already doing well, versus pointing out what they are NOT doing, we shift the dynamic of influence. As a reader, what is s/he doing well? What can you compliment him or her on? We might say, “I’ve noticed when I ask you about what you read, you really have a way of making me want to read the book, too! Not everyone can talk about what they are reading that way. That’s so cool!” Or perhaps more specific language might sound like, “I always love asking you about what you’re reading because the insights you share about the characters make me wish I could read people like that. That’s such an important skill!”
Invite a growth mindset when it comes to literacy. Many of us are now familiar with Dr. Carol Dweck’s research out of Stanford University on growth mindset. The basic premise of her work focuses on the concept that two mindsets exist within the human mind: the fixed mindset and the growth mindset. When it comes to talking with our kids, it is important to couch conversation, particularly feedback, in language that nurtures a growth mindset. That is to say, we want to praise effort, not so much end products, because in doing so we draw attention to a factor they can control- their effort. Kids don’t feel they can control if they’re “smart” or “not smart”; but they do have control over their efforts.

Check out this version of what I posted a few weeks back. “Hey, I know you may not see yourself as a writer yet. But I want you to know that one of my big goals for you is for you to love writing this year. Your ideas are amazing, and I know that once others are able to read them and learn about them, they’ll agree with me. We’ll get there, I know we will.”

Bring intentional about language can have a subtle but powerful effect. When my friend Eric told me I would be a successful musician, I wasn’t sure what he meant. But somehow I believed him. And that belief in myself is something I would wish for all the kids we work with.