Finding a balance is something that I’ve always prided myself in.  I took on coaching youth lacrosse when my oldest daughter was in Kindergarten, and nine years later, I’m still at it.  Four years ago, I decided to run for a seat on the school board.  Next year, after serving a five-year commitment (or sentence – just kidding), I will likely run again.  Our local district (where I live) also as an education foundation board, which raises money for the teachers to use (they apply through grants), and I have been part of that for six years (now, as a board liaison for the school board).  All the while, my children have grown and become more and more active, which has made me a taxi driver that drives hundreds of miles a week (and never leaving a 30 mile radius).  And of course, if you don’t get a little “me” time, you will likely go crazy so I get outside for some daily exercise (running, skating, snowshoeing, swimming, or biking).

This week, my balance has been tested.  At the end of last week, I was cruising along with my running streak (as of last Thursday, I was at 218 days straight).  I had made it through a three-day heat wave (I started in the end of July), the bitter cold and a number of snowstorms.  With the start of SOLSC (and now I’m on my seventh straight day of writing), I was losing my balance.  It has been a real adjustment and struggle to carve out time to post my blog and read others, although, I do love reading what others are writing.  It is truly a community of some awesome writers (and of course, teachers).

Last night, after a long day, I headed out into the thirteen degree cold (with a wind chill of -2 degrees) for a run (Day #224) and reflected on some ways to rediscover the balance that I feel is slipping away.  I remembered that writing and running is an opportunity and not an obligation.  I love to do both and neither should bring me stress.  Being a teacher and a dad is my very favorite things to do, and I need to do both with a positive mindset (the grading and planning will get done; driving my kids around gives me an opportunity to hang out with them, which the older two don’t like to do as much as they did before they became teenagers) and enthusiasm.  Most importantly, I reminded myself that I like to be busy, and I am busy doing things that I love.

When I arrived back at the house, I felt better.  I felt more balanced.  I felt up to every challenge that awaits me.  I am ready to spend the rest of March writing and running (and being a board member, teacher, coach, husband, and dad).

Have you ever been woken up with a scene in your head?  I’ve been working on my action scenes, and I woke up to one this morning at 4:05 AM.  I tried to go back to sleep, but I knew that I would forget parts of it.  So, I wrapped myself in a blanket and headed for my computer.

Here’s an excerpt what I wrote:

Four minutes into the third period, and the action looks exactly the same as the first two periods.  Shultzy fires a shot from the blue line, which sails two feet over the goalie’s head.  It’s like a game of air hockey.  Back and forth.  Back and forth.

“Griff, get us a goal.” Coach taps my helmet.

Before I’m over the wall, they’re on me with a double team.  It’s been this way all night.  Two skates up and down the ice and I can’t shake them. As the official turns his back and heads up ice, the defenseman smacks me in the right ankle for about the hundredth time tonight.  This one connects above the skate and sends a sharp pain up my leg.  I can’t take this anymore.

The puck lands on my stick in the right corner, and I’ve got a plan.  My shadows are on both side of me, and the “ankle breaker” is now poking me in the hip with the butt of his stick.  The only way to lose them is to give them the puck.  A little fake stumble and the puck drops into the defender’s stick.  They immediately head for opposite sides of the ice as they race towards our goal.  They’re finally apart.

I don’t waste any time chasing down the puck carrier and steal it back as easily as I gave it to him.  My other shadow is on the far boards.  With the puck out in front of me, it’s my time to race to the goal.

The only thing between the goalkeeper and I is a sheet of ice.  As I dribble the puck back and forth on my stick, I use a burst to get away from the charging defenders.  At the last second, I put the puck on the right side of my stick and rip a slap shot towards the top shelf of the goal.  It connects with the right corner of the net.

Just as the light behind the goal turns green, I’m tripped from behind and slide into the wall at full speed.  Thud.  Both defenders slide into the boards with me.  As I begin to stand, a glove pounds the right side of my face and helmet.  The glove catches me on the corner of the eye.  Back to the ice I fall and can only see black out of my right eye.  My face tingles.

With blurry vision, I can make out Devin racing towards us with a scowl on his face.  I jump up, still seeing stars, and grab the front of his jersey.

“I’m goin’ kill him for cheap shotin’ you.” He screams.

I push him with all of my might.  My head still spinning out of control.  “Thanks, but no you’re not.  If we fight back, they’ll toss us.” I continue to push until he calms down.

We skate over to the bench as the referee throws the defender out of the game.  He follows us to the middle of the ice.

*So that’s my action scene for a cold and snowy Wednesday morning. I’m looking forward to revising and more writing tonight. Off to teach the kids!

After the students finished reading Surviving Hitler, they began the Holocaust Resistance Museum project.  We started talking about people that resisted Hitler and the Holocaust, and then, we read two articles from Scholastic Scope.  When they had sufficient background knowledge (Surviving Hitler is perfect for a sixth grade reader), we began the project.

Each student was assigned a rebel that resisted Hitler during the Holocaust.  We used the United States Holocaust Museum website to research.  The students did their research by reading the identification card, which can be accessed on the website, about their specific person.  After they did their research, the students wrote a short (paragraph) summary about their rebel, and then, they wrote a “Day in the Life” entry using the facts from the identification cards.  Finally, they connected their person to one of the Positivity Project (the character education program that we use) traits and gave a short explanation.  As the grand finale, they presented their information in a museum setting to other students in the school building (yesterday).

Today, the students will write a reflection about the project experience.  Here is my reflection (to show the students):

As the students progressed through the project, I kept a record sheet for when they completed their first draft and final draft.  This was a great way to keep all of the information organized and to be sure that every student was ready on Friday (prior to the museum on Monday).  The project should have taken about a week, but because of the snow days and delays, we needed to extend the project to about a week and a half (almost two weeks).

The students did a really nice job researching their specific rebel and writing the summary and the “Day in the Life” entry.  They were well prepared and their work looked like sixth grade work (honestly, it looked a little better:).  I was really impressed with the final written pieces.  Prior to the museum, I set up all twenty-five stations for the students.  The students stood behind their work and answered any questions.

Next year, on a suggestion from a student, I am going to organize the rebels between passive resistance and aggressive resistance.  This sparked good conversation between some of the students, and I believe that if I structured it this way next year, we will have good conversation with the entire class.  I am also going to let the students set up their own work.  Since they are the ones that worked so hard on the written work, I feel like they should organize the work as they wish it to look.

We had about sixty visitors (students and teachers).  I wish that we had more visitors because I know that the students were hoping for another class or two to visit, but this is a busy time of the year.  This year, I sent an email to fourteen teachers and the administrators.  Next year, I will send an email, and when we are three days away from the museum, I am going to put a typed reminder note in their mailboxes.  I know that I always need a reminder.

All in all, I was very pleased with the students’ work and their behavior during the museum.  I explained to them that we were honoring these people for their bravery and that we needed to be mature and keep the museum silent (like the real museum) during the presentation.  They did an awesome job!

Next year, I am going to add an aspect to the project.  The students are going to design a tile (with color) with an important aspect from the Holocaust (example: butterfly, pebbles), and I’m going to make a small 4’x8’ tiled wall that we can set up in the library.

Each night at the dinner table, the family answers two questions: What was your high of the day?  What was your low of the day?  Our nine-year-old started this nightly tradition about two years ago.  Every member of the family has a chance to answer and everyone else is expected to listen.  Sometimes, the highs and lows of the day spark conversation that takes us off task, which is usually a good thing, but sometimes it’s not so good (on Sunday night, the nine-year-old confessed her low of the day is that she is worried that she is not going to grow:).

So, at the end of every week, I do my highs and lows of the past week.  They can be any highs and lows (personal or school-related), but for this week, I decided to focus my highs and lows on the past school week.

My highs:

1. The students are doing an amazing job preparing for our upcoming Holocaust Resistance Museum, which we are presenting today in the school library.  They have researched, written a summary and a day in the life entry.  They also connected their rebel to a Positivity Project trait (with an explanation).
2. The pure substances and mixtures lab was a success.  During science class, the students learned about homogeneous mixtures, heterogeneous mixtures, compound, and elements by doing a lab that had them (in pairs) looking at 16 different substances/mixtures.
3. We started a new read aloud in ELA and the kids are really interested in the plot of the story.

My lows:

1. Two two-hour delays – That is not a misprint.  We had two delays that put the kids behind one full class period in science class.  The science lab that we moved to this week is on chromatography, so the kids were excited all of last week.  I’m hopeful that their excitement will roll over into today.:)
2. In ELA class, the students are writing an essay about the lessons learned and the natural phenomenon found in the myth entitled “Echo and Narcissus”.  Because of our delay schedule (shortened class periods), the kids could not get into a rhythm with their writing.  After showing them an example, reviewing the structure of the essay, and weeks of reading myths, I expected some amazing essays.  The students are still in the first draft stage, but the essays are not looking amazing yet (not even close).  Here is for hoping that this week goes better.

The highlight of the week was undoubtedly the Holocaust Resistance Museum project.  The students used the United States Holocaust Museum website to research different men and women who resisted Hitler during the Holocaust.  They used the information on the identification cards, which you can also get when visiting the museum in Washington, D.C. (I showed the kids what the identification cards look like – one student used the information on the paper copy), to write a summary and a day in the life entry to honor their specific person.  Today, they will present their information in a museum-like setting (the students are the curators) to other sixth and seventh grade students, teachers, and administrators.  Although, I am nervous about the presentation (because I want the students to do well), I am also very excited about the museum presentations.

Last night, I was coaching my son’s indoor soccer game, which I wasn’t thrilled about because it was an 8:50 PM start.  I coach lacrosse, but I don’t coach soccer (I fill in when the coach can’t be there).  The team is up by a few goals, and I’m thinking about a poem that I could write to share with my students.

At the end of the week, they are going to write a poem that concludes a mini-unit on figurative language and poetry.  I have one poem that I wrote three years ago that I will share with them, but this year, I want to show them a second poem with a rhyming scheme.

At the end of the week, they are going to write a poem that concludes a mini-unit on figurative language and poetry.  I have one poem that I wrote three years ago that I will share with them, but this year, I want to show them a second poem with a rhyming scheme.

Of course, the poem starts to develop in my head during the game, so I grab the closest sheet of scrap paper and start writing.  If you know eighth grade boys, they can be curious when they think that you are writing about them, which I wasn’t.  So, within minutes of writing the first stanza, a kid asks me, “Coach, what are you writing?”  Followed by, “Is that a play?”  I wanted to say, “Are you kidding?  I’m a lacrosse coach.  I have no interest in writing soccer plays.”  Instead, I said, “Yeah.  It’s a soccer play.”  Then, I quickly scribbled a soccer play, which looked a bit like a lacrosse play, but at halftime, the team bought into it.  In fact, after the game, my son told me he was impressed with the play.:)

Here’s what I wrote (I finished it this morning):

Title: Winter’s Clock

Through the trees,

the trail bends and weaves,

the overhead moon shine so bright,

lighting the path in the winter night. 

Silence.

The whistle and rustle of a soft breeze.

Each step on the icy sheet of snow,

The rhythm speeds up and begins to flow,

Deeper into the woods we go,

Looking up, the moon is still hanging low.

Silence.

The whistle and rustle of a soft breeze.

Time is standing still, how much longer will it take?

The slippery path leads us down to the sparkling lake.

Over the bridge,

out onto the rickety, old dock,

looking straight up into the sky,

the full moon is the winter’s clock.

Silence.

The whistle and rustle of a soft breeze.

Perfection.

Over the last few weeks, my students have read many great poems written by Pat Mora, Jane Yolen, Walter Dean Myers, Zia Hyder, Langston Hughes, and other poets/authors.  They’ve also had a chance to write some poems (using personification, repetition, rhyme scheme, metaphors, and similes), so I’m looking forward to this final poem that connects all that they have learned about poetry.

Obviously, the main character of a story drives the story, but the supporting characters are equally (sometimes more) important.  This aspect of the story has trickled into every ELA reading lesson/mini-lesson that I have taught this school year (even when I don’t mean for it to trickle in).  Over the past few weeks, this has been on my mind every time that I sit down to write my own stories, so after school on Friday, I grabbed all of my reading lessons and reviewed them as a writer (not a teacher).

I have always found that when the students are feeling connected to the supporting characters they enjoy the story.  For example, we are currently reading Glory Be, and the students can make connections to the main character, but every discussion goes back to Jesslyn (older sister), Frankie (best friend), Laura (new friend), or Emma (maid).  One of my favorite character/story plot activities is to ask the students: What would the main character be like without one of the supporting characters (example from yesterday – Emma)?  The students will make a list (usually long if the characters are strong) of the good and bad things that the main character would (or wouldn’t) have if the supporting character were not in the story.

So, I went back into my own stories.  I asked myself questions: Are my supporting characters strong enough?  Does my main character truly need every character in the story?  Do the supporting characters that make only short appearances in my story actually have a big impact on my main character (I was thinking about a character like Emma in Glory Be)?  Is my main character moved through the story by the supporting characters? 

I found that I have work to do.:)  But, I was surprised to find that some of my supporting characters are solid.  At the end of the school year, I let me students read one of my middle-grade story manuscripts (in PDF form).  This May, I have decided to engage the students in my lessons on developing a character (especially the supporting characters).  I will be interested to find whether they connect to the supporting characters and the depth with which they connect.  Honestly, I am a bit nervous, but if they don’t connect, my writing goal for summer vacation can be to develop my supporting characters.

This is always the longest walk of my life.  The narrow dirt trail is becoming as common as my bedroom.  With the sun hanging low in the sky and the cool air chilling the tops of my cheeks, it seems as though winter is coming.

I’ve reached the fence and the last small hill comes into sight.  I glance through the chain links of the fence to the glass scattered with headstones.  Soon it will all be covered in snow.  Usually, the cemetery was magnificent in the winter.  All of the snow covering the rolling hills with very few trees to block the view.  Not anymore.

As I reach the peak of the last hill, the wrought iron Oakwood Cemetery sign greets me at the bottom.  It’s quiet.  It’s always quiet on Thursday afternoons, but today, it seems almost eerie.  I pick up my space, so I can be out of here by the time it gets dark.

After what feels like an eternity, I reach the end of the road and see the stone at the top of the hill.  This is becoming too ordinary.  I think my dad calls it “autopilot.”  I pat my coat pocket to be sure that I brought the hockey puck.

Casey Evans

Loving Son and Brother

1999-2017

It doesn’t seem like anyone has been here to visit.  I wonder if I’m the only one that visits Casey.  I have so much to tell him this week.  I wish you were here, Casey.  I need your help.  I need advice.

The shadows seem to be getting longer.  I need to get back to the path.  I need to get home.  I pull the puck out of my pocket and lay it on the top of the gravestone.  I kneel down on one leg to say goodbye.

“Hey, Griffin!” 

I jump about a mile.  With heart pounding fast, I turn around to find the familiar voice.  Patty is standing there.

*This excerpt is from this morning’s writing.  This is chapter four (possibly five) in a middle-grade story I’m writing.  All morning, I’ve been battling with the idea of reworking it (as I write – so annoying:) and placing it at the start of the story.  Wondering if questions starting at a cemetery would appeal or not to a middle school reader?  Maybe I’ll ask my students today.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

A beautiful February evening with the snow blowing sideways through the gray sky. As dusk moves in, the snow squalls reflect the last light of the day. The rhythm of the cadence and our breathing numb the fact that we are being pelted in the face with icy snowflakes. Snow begins to pile on the top of our sneakers and the top of our winter hats, but the adrenaline keeps us moving (and warm).

We take a wide turn (no sharp turns with two foot snow banks) and head eastbound into the wind, which feels like it is peeling off our faces. The snow that was dripping from our eyelashes has now turned to icy droplets. The small balls of ice hang from the ends of our lashes. The beauty of the night begins to dissipate as the visibility becomes unclear like a windshield that is streaked with water and salt. A mile and a half of road feels like 26.2 miles until we turn and head back in the direction of home.

With the wind at our back, our face begins to melt. The sweat begins to unfreeze and we feel like we might have another few miles in us if it weren’t for the cement sneakers making our ankles burn. We finally cross a four foot path of wet road before we are back on the snow packed road that we are becoming used to. Around the last turn, our house, the finish line, comes into sight, although blurry with the slanted snow racing from the sky, and I’m relieved and tired.

“No way.” I can’t pretend that I am running on the beach anymore. I’m too wet, cold, and exhausted.

I don’t believe in giving up

every kid is the same

in saying, “I can’t”

in leaving one child behind while the rest move forward

in rewarding a child that does not deserve it

in playing favorites

in discouraging a child that’s trying

learning should be restricted to a classroom

in children being unkind to each other

I do believe, therefore I teach.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton