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.

Mrs. Warren- A Hoops Game, Popcorn, and Some Good Laughs

The building felt like it was shaking, for real. The beat could be felt in your stomach. “Bummp, bummp, Bummp, Bummp, Bummp”,  We were late and the game had already begun. Adam and I had to make a stop at the ticket window because our tickets wouldn’t download. It’s all good though. The game was only ten minutes in. 

The score lit up the board as we migrated with the rest of the fans to the stadium: 16 Uconn, 8 Georgetown. The crowd cheered and stomped their feet!  Let’s Go UCONN!  “Bummp, Bummp, Bummp, bummp, bummp”.  The positive energy was palpable. My ears started ringing and my heart pumping harder with excitement. This was a big game for the blue!

After hiking up about 30,000 concrete steps, we landed in Row F and squeezed into our stadium seats. The buzzer sounded off,  “Bizzzzz”, time out UCONN.  The players quickly gathered in their prospective huddles on the court, coaches furiously scribbled on their whiteboards, and the game camera operator perfectly zoomed in on… MEG EVANS in her superfan navy blue UCONN sweatshirt. There she was, our principal, smiling from ear to ear, clapping her hands to the beat of the Uconn Husky Fight Song!  I laughed out loud and screeched like a kid, “Heh, that’s my principal!”  The moment was fleeting as the camera quickly moved onto a cute coed holding up a MARRY ME CAM sign.  I thought to myself, this is just what I needed to beat the winter blues, an awesome competitive hoops game, salty popcorn, and a chance to just laugh out loud!!  

Mrs. Devita- Joy

Often, people will set resolutions for the upcoming year at the beginning of January.  Resolutions can be disenchanting though because people tend to work towards their resolution for a few months and then get bored of them. This year, I decided to not make a resolution because I often get frustrated with myself when I don’t meet them. Yet, I still wanted something to set forth my intentions for the year.  As I was listening to a podcast on my ride to school on January 2nd, the host explained that she also was tired of resolutions and instead was choosing a word to hopefully exemplify her year for 2024. This stopped me in my tracks, and I thought to myself, “I know with 100% confidence that I want my word to be JOY for 2024”. 

The Webster dictionary defines joy as  “the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires.”  When I think of joy I think of the moments, the experiences, the people, and places that bring joy into my life.  Whether it’s playing with my niece or nephew, having dinner with friends, reading a fantastic new book, or going to the beach-- these are the things that I have always associated with bringing me joy.

Then the other day when I was running my weekend errands, I made my usual stop at an independent bookstore in the area (this time the House of Books in Kent) and the feeling of joy was exhilarating.  I never realized how much joy my monthly visits to an independent bookstore bring me.  It’s not just the new books or the beautifully crafted shelves; it’s the moment to escape into another world for a short amount of time.

As I walked through the bookstore, I began to pick up stories that stood out to me: Stanley Tucci’s My Life Through Food, a memoir on Carolyn Bessette Kennedy titled CBK: My Life in Fashion, and the fiction novel The Midnight Library that Sarah and I had just discussed the previous week. I carefully slid these books into my READ canvas tote and continued my journey to the children’s section.  

The children’s section is my Mecca at a bookstore, and it is not because I am a Language Arts Consultant or teacher.  Children’s books offer us a glimpse into our past, a visual display of imagery to teach us new and exciting information, and a storytelling method that keeps a visual learner like me engaged and nourished. What brings me the most JOY from this section though is the visual reminders of former students and their journeys as I taught them.  The sign for the final Amulet makes me think of Cade and his passion for Fantasy Graphic Novels. The Elephant’s New Shoe makes me think of Brooke who passionately raised money for an Elephant Sanctuary in Africa every year. I Want 100 Dogs makes me think of Molly and the informational and persuasive pieces we wrote to her parents so that she could finally get a dog (Our persuasive piece won them over!), and The Invisible Boy makes me think of Kate, a girl who fought so hard to be seen. 

As I checked out of the bookstore that day, you could have seen joy radiating off of me.  It wasn’t the joy of the fact I realized that independent bookstores could bring me JOY in 2024, it was the joy of thinking fondly of my former students and realizing that the students we teach often have a lasting impact on ours.

What will your word be for 2024?

Ms. Johnson- Into the Unknown (you can sing this, it’s okay!)

Today was the day that all students dread… new seats in class. Cue the theatrics.

Each class got new spots. Seeing the room from a whole new perspective. Sitting near people that were not their choice, but mine.

After school, I taught a flute student who I’ve been teaching since she was in third grade. Now a junior in high school, she is frozen in fear of looking into what colleges she may be interested in. What will she study? Where does she want to go? Far from home? Stay close to home? Does she want to study performance or audio design? There are so many questions and she doesn’t have the answer.

I then came home to do my online orientation for a graduate program I am starting on January 16. Going back to school is scary and how will I be able to manage school work with school work?? 

Stepping into the unknown and new situations can be scary, daunting, or overwhelming. There are so many questions that you won’t know the answers to until you take that first step and confidently move forward, even if you have to fake that confidence until you actually do feel that way. Even something seemingly small can be a change that makes things feel uncomfortable. But, the opportunity to be brave and move forward is the only way to get comfortable being uncomfortable stepping into something new. Or… Into the Unknown! 

Mrs. Strand- Get two dogs. It will be fun they said.

I have been a dog person all of my life. As a single adult, it was all about the pugs. Aggie was my girl who lived for two way-too-short years. Winston came into my life when I had been without a dog for a couple of years after losing Aggie. Winston was with me for over 16 years. He traveled with me, he made living alone less alone, and he was right by my side through major life changes like moving across the country and transitioning to marriage and being a step-parent.  He was my constant. Losing him was really, really hard.

Although saying goodbye to Winston was hard, there are aspects of not having a dog that are attractive. Planning a vacation is easier when you don’t have to find dog care. You have a lot more disposable money in your pocket (pets are expensive according to my financial planner), and you don’t have to worry about having a lint roller in multiple places in your life. You can walk out of the house without the worry of being covered in dog hair, or checking your watch to math out when you need to be home. The house is cleaner and you can leave things like reading glasses and popcorn bowls on coffee tables when you leave a room…worry free!

However, not having a dog makes life a bit too quiet. A bit too clean. Dogs are there to greet you when you come home every single day with the enthusiasm like you’re returning from war, even if you just run to the store for a few things. Dogs force you to get outside and walk, play, and smile. Dogs can even help you meet people. I know a lot of my neighbors because they know my dogs. Research suggests that merely petting a dog can relieve stress. 

After three years of sharing our lives without a dog, it was time. 

Louie is a rescue that came into our lives during the COVID-summer when everyone was getting a dog. He’s a dachshund mix of fun and love. He was a naughty puppy (mostly chewing). We said farewell to several pairs of glasses, hats, flipflops, and pencils during his chewing stage. He has a borderline obsession with paper garbage and his stash is kept under our bed. We call it his clubhouse. This is where Louie goes when he’s collected something new or has done something he knows is on the list of things that Louie shouldn’t do. However, our Louie is perfectly unperfect. He was an only dog for three years. Last summer, Louie’s life got turned upside down when Gustafson came into our lives. 

I am at the seasoned age where “bucket list” items need to be addressed and not just on a list that sits in a drawer. I am doing well on the travel, I was a seat filler at the Oscars, I lived on a yacht one summer, and I’ve officiated several weddings. I even lived in South Korea and taught English at a camp one summer. One item that wasn’t crossed off my list was having two dogs. I wanted to share my life with two dogs. My husband was on board. 

Gustafson is our special addition. We’re not sure about his past, the experts guess that he is about three years old. He is blond. He has really cute paws. As I sit and write, he is running around attempting to look out windows in the hope of alerting us of a squirrel that may be running across the lawn. Gus has an interesting, if not complicated, relationship with our cat, Myles. There’s lots of barking. Lots of whining when Myles is around. Gustafson has done his share of scratching window sills, lifting his leg and marking places in our home (another Slice of Life story for different day), and stealing multiple treats and toys from Louie. 

On the flipside, I have yet to meet a sweeter dog than Gus. He snuggles like no other. Never lets you go to the bathroom without his supervision. Gus is happy. He makes us laugh, and he patiently puts up with Louie’s need for being the center of attention. The two have a special bond and you can often find them curled up together in one crate when they’re not running around chasing each other or playing tug.  We’re lucky to have him. We’re lucky to have them both.

My wallet may be a bit lighter, I often have a circus managing two dogs and a cat before leaving for work each morning, and I buy carpet cleaner and lint rollers in bulk at Costco. However, I have crossed an item off my bucket list, and I have inspiration for my first Slice of Life story.

Get two dogs. It will be fun. 

Louie and Gustafson

Gus on alert for passing squirrels.

Mrs. Evans: A Stream of Conscious Thought

I’m just going to keep it real.  I love the Slice of Life.  I love the concept of having people engage in authentic writing.  I love that adults are modeling the joy that writing can bring and how it creates a sense of community.  I love reading people’s entries.  I love that we are doing this at SQL.

Except……  for some reason, I’m having a difficult time figuring out what to write (which is very curious to me).  I pride myself on being a competent writer.  My work is seen publicly on a weekly basis with staff and families.  There is no real rational justification for my hesitancy.  It’s me being trapped in my head, over-thinking things, and making a simple task way more difficult than it has to be (for people who know me aren’t really surprised).

So I’m following my own advice and just starting the task - writing whatever comes to mind and trust that initiating will help me.  I’m reminding myself that it doesn’t have to be a watermelon size share, it can be a seed ~ a small moment that had an impact on me.  

I’ve got it!  This winter recess was one of my favorites.  It was low-key and filled with spending time with family and good friends.  It was low-pressure and just what I needed.  I got to spend a lot of time hanging out with Emily and just enjoying being in each other’s presence ~ sometimes chatting and sometimes just laying on the couch and being in the same room while watching TV or scrolling through social media on our phones.  

While we were lounging, Emily asked me for her phone that was on the coffee table.  As I handed it to her I noticed her wallpaper.  She had a collage of pictures of her and her friends.  Some were of high school girlfriends and others were of her new crew from college.  It brought a smile to my face seeing her happy and loved the variety of people and settings that she captured.  As I gave Emily her phone, one picture in particular caught my eye.  There was an image of me and her from vacation last summer.  I know that it may seem like a trivial thing in the grand scheme of the world, however, I can’t tell you how much it meant to me that I actually made her wallpaper.  It gets me a little choked up just thinking about it.  It really is true, sometimes it's the smallest things that have the biggest impact and the most important things in life are your relationships.  

The End

PS  I highly recommend signing up for the Slice of Life.  It wasn’t really nearly as scary once I started and it was a lovely memory to relive.  

Mrs. Combres- Skyline Trail

“There it is!”, I heard a fellow hiker proclaim. What is it you ask? The trailhead of the Skyline Trail in Cape Breton Highlands National Park in Nova Scotia. Months of planning, 14 hours of travel with one husband, three children, two inlaws in a rented minivan that will accommodate us all. And let’s not forget, 3.5 ferry hours on turbulent seas eliciting cries for motion sickness medicine. We are here, we made it, the excitement is palpable! 

Within minutes water bottles and snacks are grabbed from the car and we are off. The brochure promised picturesque trails with cliff overlooks and dramatic views. But wait, why so many trees? Be patient I tell myself, surely we are just about to be stopped in our tracks by the majesty of it all.

One mile down, still trees, hopefully, my traveling companions are not starting to doubt my choice of hikes. Two miles, trees with tiny peeks of skyline, what have I done?

Still, we trudged on, all at once the trees began to recede as if they had almost never been there at all. A thousand steps stood before us as we reached the end of the land. Steep cliffs jutted out of the water, barely allowing us to tell where the sky stopped and water began. People were everywhere but it was somehow quiet. We stood and stared, took pictures and watched as the miniature cars and campers traversed the Cabot Trail.

After about a half hour we meandered back into the trees, grateful this time. Five miles complete. We were back where we started, on tired feet, having seemingly traveled to the end of the earth profoundly changed through some trees.    

    

Mrs. Pomeroy: A Great Day

 My husband bought a second snowmobile. He didn’t need a second snowmobile, and he wasn’t even sure that he wanted to keep the one he bought. It sat quietly, unridden in our basement for months, that is until today.

Twelve inches of sparkling white powder fell overnight, the first “real” snow of the season. My boys couldn’t wait to go outside and play, and at 7:01 AM we were digging through snow clothes to make sure we all had the proper attire for a snow day. 

Tucker was first out the door, Lucas was close behind. They trudged through knee-deep powder to the swingset and had a blast flying down the snow-covered slide. Lucy leapt and pawed at the snow just as any good dog should. We lugged the sleds out of the basement, and tried to plow a path down the hill, but to no avail. It was then that I remembered the snowmobile in the basement. We took a little spin around the yard, but decided to go for a longer ride later in the day. 

After lunch, I got to take my first solo trip on the new snowmobile. We rode with my brother-in-law, niece, and nephew. I snaked through the woods, following their path, over uncovered rocks and under trees heavy with snow. My throttle control was terrible-at times I felt like an inexperienced rider of a Buckin’ Bronco, but made it through unscathed. The farmers’ fields, however, gave way to smooth speed on snow super-highways. I am in no way a good rider-not nearly as good as my husband, his brother, my niece and nephew, or even as good as I imagine my boys to be when they grow older. But I sure did have fun!

The rain is set to come later this week. No doubt it will turn my twelve inches into a slushy flood-winters are no longer what they were in the ‘80s and ‘90s-but, whatever happens with the weather, January 7 was a pretty great day!

Mrs. Scudder- The Final Save

Soccer Mom, Baseball mom, softball mom. I have spent a lot of years as a sports mom. Driving to practice, scrubbing dirty pants, packing a day's worth of food in the cooler, searching frantically for a lost hat or uniform, cheering for a win, consoling after a difficult loss. If you are a sports mom, you most definitely can relate. 

The Cape Cod soccer tournament every October was definitely one of my favorite sporting events. Watching the boys play was just a small part of the weekend. Team lunches, walks on the beach, dinners, firepits, and boom boxes were extra perks.  Friendships with parents I still consider to be friends were made. 

One particular tournament stands out: the 2020 Cape Cod soccer tournament. This tournament had not been easy. On Saturday, the first day of the tournament, we lost our first game when our own player scored in our goal. In the second game, we struggled but came from behind to win. On Sunday, the Sharks arrived prepared and revitalized, fueled by the fresh beginning that this new day offered. They started strong. They dominated the first game, then the second. These wins meant the Sharks made it to the finals, during which they would play against the skilled and talented team they had lost to the previous team. Monday morning we were all butterflies and jitters. Being the goalie mom made it even more nerve-wracking. Every shot on goal made my heart beat fast. At the end of a well-fought game, the score was tied 2-2, which meant penalty kicks: the goalie mom’s worst nightmare. Suddenly the “team” didn’t matter, and it came down to a few shots on goals. Each team got 4 shots. I could barely watch. My heart was racing… The first kick for us, we scored! Connor stopped their first goal. We missed the second, and theirs went wide. We scored the third goal. If we stopped this one, we would win! Connor had an amazing dive to stop the last one and we all went wild! They were the champs!

This team went on to play many more games and tournaments. Some were heartbreaking, others were victorious, but that particular tournament holds a special place in my heart.

Ms. Forsberg: I Can't Find My Phone!

 

This is a recurring nightmare for me that I lose my phone.  As someone who has

been diagnosed with attention deficit disorder and who covers five to seven miles in an

elementary school building as an assistant principal, there are so many opportunities

for me to leave things behind. I have woken up from a dream in a cold sweatwondering if it could really happen that I could lose my phone at school.

Once I left my phone on top of the car and drove away. Three miles later the phone

fell off the roof of the car. I was able to find it from my computer but it was smashed

into many different pieces. Since then I have been trying to keep track of my phone.

That is until today. 

Never did I think that this would happen at school. Especially now that I have

an iWatch which you can push several buttons and it will make your phone

make noise so that you can find it. And yet I still couldn’t find my phone here at school. 

I started by tracing my steps. Unfortunately, it had been a busy morning and

I had unloaded and loaded my car full of items that I brought to school and things I

had to take home from school. I checked my car three times

in between the seats in all of the boxes, and I still couldn’t find my phone.

Then I traced all my steps inside the building storage room, several classrooms

where I did observations, and the refrigerator in the faculty room where I

put my lunch bag. And still, I could not find my phone.

Trying to limit my embarrassment, I shared it only with select folks in the

building, many of whom were very helpful and trying to help me use the technology

of my iWatch to help me find my phone.  I have learned several

new techniques on my phone.  And yet I still can't find my phone.

Not knowing what else to do, I went to the faculty meeting and made the

announcement that I couldn't find my phone and I would appreciate anyone

helping me find it. I have even offered a reward if someone wanted to turn it

in. And yet I still can't find my phone. 

The faculty was going to play dodgeball today and I was looking forward

to playing, and my mind was distracted by where I might have left my phone.

The other players took full advantage and I was out quickly. And I still can’t

find my phone. 

Now it is the end of the school day leaving me with the slim hope that my phone

is sitting at home awaiting my arrival. Soon the battery will run out and finding it

will become that much more difficult. 

Mrs. Meehan- Walking down the SQL ramp

 As I walk down the Squadron Line ramp, it’s rare that I don’t think of Meg White. I was a second-grader there when a group of us invented the game of flats. The goal was to step on the back of the person’s shoe who was walking in front of you. If you did it correctly, the person’s heel would pop out of the shoe, necessitating a stop to fix it. 

We were coming in from recess– or maybe heading to it from the cafeteria. What matters is I was holding my Barbie lunchbox. (Yes, Barbie was around when I was in second grade!) Lunchboxes at that time were metal. Meg White was behind me on the ramp, and, predictably, she gave me a flat. Except her flat didn’t go so well for me. In addition to losing my shoe, I lost my balance and fell face-first on my metal Barbie lunchbox. Maybe I remember the day so vividly because I’ve spent so many hours since then sitting in a dentist’s chair fixing or replacing the cap on my front tooth. 

In any case, when you see me walking down the second ramp and I look distracted, you can bet that Meg White is on my mind. And you can bet that I welcome distractions and conversations that don’t have to do with a chipped front tooth!