Mrs. Meehan- Closing Thoughts

 Hi everyone, 

Thank you for writing and reading slices throughout the month, and if you were a commenter, an extra thank you! 

I’ve loved coordinating this effort, even more than I expected to. Yes, there were moments when I wondered if the energy would catch on, and there were moments when I felt like a nag or that people avoided me so I wouldn’t ask them to slice. Please don’t feel that way! Believe me, I understand how hard writing can be! 

That being said, the reflections that have come my way are share-worthy! Here are a few of them!

• I lived differently because I was trying to figure out what to slice! 

• I realized that there are slices everywhere if we are looking for them. 

• I understand and empathize with students more when they say they have nothing to write about. 

• It’s really hard to put yourself out there for peer review-- but that’s what we ask kids to do every day. 

• Writing scares me. 

Yes to all of these! Many posts touched me, but these two posts from Tootin’ teachers especially touched these sentiments. Both have given me permission to share them with you. 

• Silvie Fluckiger’s post where she tried to find the best way to begin her piece

• Jess Flaherty’s post about finding slices everywhere. This post is on a google doc since it won’t publish until later this week. 

There are a few teachers who have asked about continuing to slice with students. If this is something that interests you, please reach out to me. I’d be happy to connect students across the district and maybe even beyond. 

Thank you again for coming along on this adventure, not matter how you participated!

Melanie

Mrs. McCann- Connections and Relationships

This activity was very thought provoking for me, I was drawn to the concept of “Connections and

relationships.” What came to mind first took me to a cottage where we spend our summers.

It gets put out on the dining table as soon as it comes out of the car. The room overlooks the

vast and magnificent Atlantic ocean. It attracts everyone to it as they arrive from near and far to

connect after a year of attending to all of the demands of the busy lives that we all seem to lead

these days. Some of us like to work on it in the morning, others spend time at the table

throughout the day and into the evening. Often people are crowded all around and sometimes a

solitary person is concentrating on the task at hand.

There are many of us here and we all enjoy being together to do things and to do nothing.

Everyone has a little different strength. Some like to put the edges together, and others like to

organize things based on shapes and colors, but nothing can be done until everything is right

side up.

This puzzle symbolizes the connectedness of our relationships and experiences to each other.

We come together from near and far to bond and recharge after a year of work and school. We

connect talkin about our year and what it all means. We relate to each other and connect while

making connections necessary to put the puzzle together. This big puzzle-making tradition in

our family reminds me of how even in my class we make connections daily solving problems

and building relationships. It is a source of joy and appreciation to see these connections

playing out in the process of simply solving puzzles and in our daily lives.

Mrs. Callahan- The Wicked Witch of The West

If you have ever watched the TV show Golden Girls, you will remember sassy Sophia Petrillo saying,“Picture this…Sicily–it was 1950.”  Well, I am going to steal her style and say Picture this….New Canaan, Connecticut…West School--it was 1977.

I was in Mrs. Cilo’s first-grade class with my best friend Cindy; we met when we were four years old.  We were thrilled to be in the same class that year and even more excited when Mrs. Cilo announced that our class would be putting on the play The Wizard of Oz. I lost my seven-year-old mind! This was my favorite movie! This was before streaming and even pre-VHS or Beta. If a kid wanted to watch The Wizard of Oz, he or she would have to scope out the TV Guide for weeks and wait for the announcement. This beloved film aired on Sunday nights so kids everywhere had to start begging weeks in advance in order to stay up. Parents were often relieved because if they thought the witch was too scary, kids would miss when she kidnapped Dorothy. That green-faced hag stowed her away in the spooky castle guarded by soldiers, and the flying monkeys alone were what nightmares were made of. I was lucky because birth order was on my side. Being the third child with an infant brother, my parents were worn down easily when I begged to be allowed to stay up. 

When I found out there were going to be auditions, I was ready. I wanted to be Dorothy in the worst way. I had gotten the doll for Christmas and had every word of “Over The Rainbow” memorized. Then the unthinkable happened! I had a fever the day of the auditions. When I returned a few days later, I found out that my very best friend landed the role of Dorothy. I was so disappointed but also grateful that it went to her and not to another girl who showed the writing on the wall of being a mean girl even as a first grader. To my horror, the only two roles left were a munchkin and the hated Wicked Witch of the West. Instantly I knew it was absurd that I was a munchkin for I was the tallest person in the class. I gave in and chose to be the witch. 

I barely made it off the bus that afternoon before I burst into tears. I did not want to be ugly. I did not want to be hated. I was stuck in a role I did not want to play. My older brother and sister were my biggest cheerleaders; they thought it was so cool that I got to be mean. My mother got me green makeup, and I borrowed a witch costume from my friend Emily. I was going to rock this role! 

The day of the play came and I channeled my best Margaret Hamilton possible. My cackles and sarcastic use of “my little pretty” when addressing Dorothy were spot on. The hot stage lights felt like they were causing the green makeup to melt down my face, but this seemed fitting. Dorothy aka Cindy threw white little pieces of paper from a bucket instead of water. I shrieked “I’m melting” in terror and fell straight backward to my demise. I received a standing ovation when it was my turn to bow. My sister told me that all of her classmates said that I stole the show. It was the first of many times that I would have to “build character” and make lemonade out of lemons. 

Mrs. Lavallee- A Red Bag Tradition

Our granddaughter is nearly two years old.  This Christmas, we were blessed to spend time together on December 23rd.  No rush, no schedule, just a special time with Remy and her wonderful parents, Travis and Sami.  Aunt Manda was able to be with us also on this low-key, special day.  Moe and I had wrapped her presents and placed them under the tree.  

When they arrived, we visited and played and visited a bit more.  I was just busting with excitement about our gift to Remy.  Sami and Remy were equally excited about their gifts to us. Remy handed out the gifts and helped open them.  She helped me put our new Christmas ornament with all our grands on the tree, while Papa got to put the new GiGi and PaPa doormat at the front door.  

Then it was Remy’s turn, a big red bag under the tree just waiting for her.  My heart was jumping and filled with joy to see her sweet face as we started to pull it closer to her.  She pulled at the ribbon, found the bunched top of the bag, and peeked her head into the opening.  She popped her head up with the expression of, Kevin, from Home Alone. Promptly guiding her Dad to help her open the bag.  A rocking chair!  She chattered with excitement as we removed it from the bag. She sat in it and rocked for a moment, with a wonderful smile for a brief time.  Then flopped down on top of the big red bag, “In,” she said!  She snuggled into the bag and sighed, “Night, night”.  That moment lasted all of 30 seconds because in a wink she made it known to her Dad that his job was to pull her around the house while she was inside the bag.  The bag was the best gift of all.  We know she loves her rocking chair, but from now on, every Christmas present from PaPa and GiGi will come in that bag.  We’ll see how long we can keep the new red bag tradition going. 

Mrs. Cabell: A Box of Memories

As I carried the box upstairs, I was overcome with emotions. The task ahead was simple, yet, was one that stirred numerous feelings and memories.

I placed the box on the table and opened it. There… they all sat, a variety of sizes and shapes, plus vibrant colors made out of wood, plastic and glass.  

I reached in and pulled out the first one, a plastic bell bought with my grandmother on a trip to downtown Hartford.  Funny, how I remembered the day so clearly.  

The next one I touched was from a friend’s wedding… a simple heart with the date, 12/09/1996.  Such a happy day with my college friends. 

Seems like only yesterday.  

Then a shiny one caught my eye so I reached for it!   It was the silver angel my mom had given us!  That one always found a special place.  

The morning turned into afternoon. One item at a time brought me down memory lane. Former students? Where were they now?  And some from family and friends near and far. Where has time gone?

I continued, determined to get this done but was distracted by the need to reminisce.  At last, I had finished!

My Christmas Tree was trimmed with magical memories!

Mrs. Augelli- A Quiet Mind

 Those who know me best know that my brain is constantly buzzing with a to-do list. So, naturally, a slice from me wouldn’t be complete without one.  I adore making lists and, even more than that, adore crossing things off the list!

Lately, there have been an exceptional number of lists in my life… the ones swirling in my brain like the New York Stock Exchange, the rainbow of post-its covering my work desk, the scribbles of childcare plans on my kitchen whiteboard, my phone constantly vibrating with reminders, and even some very critical lists written with crayon on napkins in my car.

This weekend, as we prepared our home for an upcoming renovation project, my husband and I were busily checking things off our list.  There was a lot to accomplish as we cleaned up and cleared out the rooms where construction would soon take place.  This effort primarily happened after dark, on tiptoe, with hushed voices, frantic hand gestures, and tired bodies when both of our tiny humans were asleep.  

The night before construction began our to-do list was a full-body workout: 

• 

  relocate the stacked washer-dryer unit - CHECK!

• 

  carry a twin bed down two and a half flights of stairs - CHECK!

• 

  haul way too many unpacked boxes (from our move a year and half ago)

• to their new location where they will remain in unboxed purgatory for

• who knows how long - CHECK!

One more to-do stood between us and crashing on the couch: trudge through the snow to the shed so we could

• 

  trash the dreadful, dated window treatments left behind by

• the previous owners - CHECK!

With our final task complete, we walked back toward the house.  I looked toward my kiddos bedroom windows and began mentally running through the items to pack in their bags, and the morning routine that I knew would arrive in a blink.  Then my eyes unintentionally drifted skywards.  After days and days of gray, the clouds had finally cleared.  Orion was sparking.  The moonlight was bright. The street was empty.  The trees were still.  The air was cold and crisp.

The world was quiet…and for the first time in a long time, my mind was quiet.

I love my lists, but, man, that quiet felt better than any completed to-do list ever has.

Mrs. McHugh- Magic is Real

The sparkly blue tulle dragged along the very public concrete floor of the XL center as her eyes consumed the attractions left and right. Flashing rainbow-colored bubble wands lit up the concourse and colorful striped slushies tempted young tastebuds while puffs of blue cotton candy paraded by on massive rods carried by vendors. The tulle collected the dirt and germs of the thousands in attendance that night, despite her mother’s hopes of keeping it clean, but along with the dirt, it couldn’t avoid billowing in the magic that electrified the air as audience members settled in anticipation of the show. 

After carefully weighing the options, she settled on a slushie housed in a magical cup with the faces of Anna and Elsa beaming on each side; her most favorite of the princesses. The cup was filled with a rounded scoop of ice shavings, soaked in stripes of red, yellow, and blue flavoring. As she studied the vendor’s scooping and squirting, she spied the most curious utensil she’d ever seen: half spoon, half straw, complete with a friendly-looking snowman hugging the top. Olaf! 

With one hand on the railing, one hand holding a ball of sparkly blue tulle, and her mother’s hand carefully carrying the Olaf-topped treat, she descended the steep steps of the arena. She traveled by feel, her feet only intuitively seeking the steps ahead of her because her eyes were fixated on the ice rink at the center of the arena and the magical details decorating its surroundings. 

Marketing experts tell us about the “Magic of Disney” and bombard us with dazzling commercials featuring magical Disney memories. What they fail to tell you, however, is that the magic is real. I watched her face that evening, more than the show. The skaters skated, the aerialists twirled, the pyrotechnics were executed flawlessly, and Elsa enchanted the arena with magically suspended ice crystals. But I didn’t watch any of it. I watched her. I watched as her eyes sparkled brighter than the princess’s wand. I watched as her dimple carved its way into her right cheek more than the skates carved into the ice. I watched as she sat upright in the center of her seat, blindly shoveling half-spoon/half-straw scoops of melted slushie into her mouth so she wouldn’t miss a single performer or detail. I watched the real magic that night, not the show.