Down brick laid streets, canopied in birch and oak trees, lies the Borges plaza, a unique little place in my neighborhood where so much transpires. You should think the 1930s, because quite frankly, with everything in Argentina, you should think of this time period when things were alive, blossoming and Europeans were seeking Argentina out as a dream destination. But, while you think 1930s, add 2020, the trendy 60 year olds in one corner dressed in flowy cotton pants and white shirts are doing Tai chi. And while we're on 2020, go back 30 years to the early 90s, those are the teenagers lurking around the central fountain in the plaza, lying in one another's laps, dressed slightly goth, slightly grunge, looking for love and/or trouble. So back to the 30s, which would be the place, my son and I spend most of our time, the playground. There is a carousel, imagine creepy amusement park, old metallic forms of transportation, parts literally hanging by a thread or actually so decrepit that they fall off, and tacky colors, meaning too many of them. Whether it be a preschool, or a playground, Argentines love their colors but the schemes are never aesthetically pleasing. How can a city that built one of the most stunning downtowns in the world fall apart when it comes to playground equipment? And oh how it does. Beside the carousel, is a little 3 meter by 3 meter cage, filled with balls, that my son goes into, and with the slightly anal retentiveness of his mother, often proceeds to pick out all the broken balls and put them in the corner because he believes they should be taken out of the ball pit. Finally, there is a sand pit, often filled with someone's left toys and very dirty small children, so of course my toddler gravitates there. Fortunately, today, he just wanted to slide, but still we ended up covered in sand, warranting this evening's bath. The plaza is a weekly event and a charming little bike ride away, a trip back in time, and a reminder of how the kids of this generation still just need simple fun.
Thursday, March 5, 2020
Wednesday, March 4, 2020
Wednesday Poetry inspired by Mini Lesson Writing
I am knee deep in writing a 5th grade poetry unit. With luck, I had some resources to support the unit's development, another coaching friend gave me their 5th grade collaborative planning unit and the If/ Then curriculum in the Lucy Calkins 5th grade writing resources has some good suggestions for teaching points. On top of this, nowadays, there are a number of great websites dedicated to poetry on top of the plethora of books you can find in your schools library, making resources accessible and ready to connect to teaching points.
One of the lessons I wrote was under the teaching point: Poems can and usually evoke strong emotions.
The teaching is planned to go as:
Teaching:
Start by studying a Prelutsky poem: I made a noise this morning
After you read, think aloud.
- Poems evoke strong emotions. Which one does this evoke?
- Poets use words to convey emotions. Which ones show (emotion name?)
- Poets use craft moves to convey emotions. What does the poet use to convey these emotions?
Name and notice.
Then, approach the lesson as a writer.
- Scan your notebook identifying patches of feelings and emotions- nostalgia
- Select a topic that you may have a certain emotion around -summer camp nights
- Brainstorm precise words that go with that emotion and topic -fireflies, the lingering smell of campfire and mosquito spray, the taste of burnt marshmallows always on my mind, the joy of rolling down the hill in tire tubes hair flying in the air, the agony of swim class and ice cold, bone chilling water
- Brainstorm craft moves: the line breaks should be soft, no need for rhyme, maybe repetition to show how the memories are joyful ones
- Write a poem/ Share one you wrote
Today's poem is inspired by this mini-lesson.
Summer Camp Nights
Fireflies glow
Intermittently
Piercing the dark sapphire
Blue sky
Marshmallows roast
Sparking
Embers dancing in the fire
Blackening
Heads tumble
Fluttering
Hair flops up and down
Spiraling
Threads weave
Uniting
Colors, friends and
Memories
Abyssal water
Chilling
Limbs floating free
Tranquility
Laughter permeates
Bunk bed
Corners, pillow talk
Joy
#SOL20 #day4
Tuesday, March 3, 2020
Dear Mom 2020
Dear Mom,
I wish you were here because it's girl scout cookie season and somehow, by some miracle, you would find a way to get that little piece of home to me in whatever strange corner of the world I was in.
I wish you were here because whenever I called you, I felt every emotion, good and bad, and you validated feeling emotions, even when it was hard and there was a lot of crying. I never felt bad about being sad or full of emotions. You taught me to hold on to them, and fight for them and with them.
I wish you were here because I worry about Dad. I worry about him falling. I worry about him eating too many microwave dinners or canned pasta sauce. I wish you were here for your chicken enchiladas and your sporadic baking extravaganzas you would sometimes have. It's a miracle that none of us are overweight.
I wish you were here to take out for a glass of wine or sit on the porch and smoke one of Dad's or Andres cigarettes as a guilty pleasure and special treat, as we talk about life, traveling, galavanting and love.
I wish you were mostly because you were my mom and I feel like I turned out pretty well and you passed away just as Pablo turned 1 and was turning into a real person. I wish you could know him. I think of you every time he does something new and wonderful. I think of you when we call Grandpa or when we look at pictures and he sadly doesn't know who you are. It breaks my heart that he won't know you and your grandmother talents that you clearly graced Noah with, who was crying buckets throughout your entire funeral. I think of that day when Pablo wasn't able to sit still, being a new walker, and wish you were there to see him cruising around the funeral. You would have laughed and been whispering at me or him to come to you. You would have taken him and played with him outside and made him giggle his magical laugh.
I wish you were here because no one will replace you. No one except you and I remember the day we were at the immigration office all day with my stomachache which eventually became appendicitis. No one except you will remember how it felt to arrive on top of O'Cebreira after one of the longest, hardest hikes we had both done in awhile. No one except you will love me the way a mom does.
Yours,
Heather
#SOL20 #day3
I wish you were here because it's girl scout cookie season and somehow, by some miracle, you would find a way to get that little piece of home to me in whatever strange corner of the world I was in.
I wish you were here because whenever I called you, I felt every emotion, good and bad, and you validated feeling emotions, even when it was hard and there was a lot of crying. I never felt bad about being sad or full of emotions. You taught me to hold on to them, and fight for them and with them.
I wish you were here because I worry about Dad. I worry about him falling. I worry about him eating too many microwave dinners or canned pasta sauce. I wish you were here for your chicken enchiladas and your sporadic baking extravaganzas you would sometimes have. It's a miracle that none of us are overweight.
I wish you were here to take out for a glass of wine or sit on the porch and smoke one of Dad's or Andres cigarettes as a guilty pleasure and special treat, as we talk about life, traveling, galavanting and love.
I wish you were mostly because you were my mom and I feel like I turned out pretty well and you passed away just as Pablo turned 1 and was turning into a real person. I wish you could know him. I think of you every time he does something new and wonderful. I think of you when we call Grandpa or when we look at pictures and he sadly doesn't know who you are. It breaks my heart that he won't know you and your grandmother talents that you clearly graced Noah with, who was crying buckets throughout your entire funeral. I think of that day when Pablo wasn't able to sit still, being a new walker, and wish you were there to see him cruising around the funeral. You would have laughed and been whispering at me or him to come to you. You would have taken him and played with him outside and made him giggle his magical laugh.
I wish you were here because no one will replace you. No one except you and I remember the day we were at the immigration office all day with my stomachache which eventually became appendicitis. No one except you will remember how it felt to arrive on top of O'Cebreira after one of the longest, hardest hikes we had both done in awhile. No one except you will love me the way a mom does.
Yours,
Heather
#SOL20 #day3
Monday, March 2, 2020
My Argentine 20...
So as much as I love this challenge, I hate my Argentine Internet equally.
My dedication is real because I am sitting here on my phone, which is trying to code switch between Spanish and English, which is even more frustrating, trying to write a blog.
There are things I will miss about Argentina
1. Asados
2. Amazing, cheap, wine
3. A blossoming theatre scene while still maintaining a trendy vintage one simultaneously
4. Working with the Spanish language teachers, creating Units of Study from scratch, often integrated with Social Studies and layered with inquiry
5. Our wonderful nanny who loves Pablo to the moon and back and takes good care of me too
6. Our quaint, little neighbourhood, a cross between the 1950s and a hippy American town
7. The talented group of teachers I work with in general and their incredible resilience, all the while, not complaining about things nearly as much as they could
8. Friends always
9. Riding my bike to school
10. Plentiful green blended with city
11. Our beautiful backyard with pool, barbecue, greenery and patio
12. Ice cream
13. Ángela, the masseuse, Heaven
And there are things I will not:
1. The fairly bland, meat based diet
2. Shotty Internet
3. Preschool mediocrity
4. Grocery store annihilation, meaning messy, rotting food, empty shelves
5. Extremely inconsistent service
6. Cockroaches
7. The volatile currency situation
Still, the good outweighs the bad but man, if I can make it through a SOL challenge without having to blog on my phone, and am downright craving a pen and paper and other platform, I will be a happy camper.
Sleep well friends. More stories and passion from a better device with better Internet tomorrow.
#SOL20 #day2 #annoyed
My dedication is real because I am sitting here on my phone, which is trying to code switch between Spanish and English, which is even more frustrating, trying to write a blog.
There are things I will miss about Argentina
1. Asados
2. Amazing, cheap, wine
3. A blossoming theatre scene while still maintaining a trendy vintage one simultaneously
4. Working with the Spanish language teachers, creating Units of Study from scratch, often integrated with Social Studies and layered with inquiry
5. Our wonderful nanny who loves Pablo to the moon and back and takes good care of me too
6. Our quaint, little neighbourhood, a cross between the 1950s and a hippy American town
7. The talented group of teachers I work with in general and their incredible resilience, all the while, not complaining about things nearly as much as they could
8. Friends always
9. Riding my bike to school
10. Plentiful green blended with city
11. Our beautiful backyard with pool, barbecue, greenery and patio
12. Ice cream
13. Ángela, the masseuse, Heaven
And there are things I will not:
1. The fairly bland, meat based diet
2. Shotty Internet
3. Preschool mediocrity
4. Grocery store annihilation, meaning messy, rotting food, empty shelves
5. Extremely inconsistent service
6. Cockroaches
7. The volatile currency situation
Still, the good outweighs the bad but man, if I can make it through a SOL challenge without having to blog on my phone, and am downright craving a pen and paper and other platform, I will be a happy camper.
Sleep well friends. More stories and passion from a better device with better Internet tomorrow.
#SOL20 #day2 #annoyed
Sunday, March 1, 2020
Mi Panza Duele/ My Tummy Hurts
A week that has seemed like forever is drawing to an end or in other words, a new more positive sky has risen.
It started last Monday night, I woke up to go to the bathroom, while sleeping in my friend's bed with my son. Travelling nomads we are, this is not a rare occasion for us, but when I crawled back in the rolly polly roll around seemed more like a wrestling match with a monster and then a "Mama, mi panza duele" which in Argentine Spanish, means: My tummy hurts. I got Pablo some water. Still, he kept saying it, "Mi panza duele." And as he said it, in dreary Mom mode, I got frustrated as it was 1 am in the morning. "Go to sleep, Pablo." And the reaction to those words was projectile vomiting, all over the sheets, on the floor, in the bathroom. It's bad when it's in your house but when it's in someone else's house, in the middle of the night, you just kind of cave in and think 'Is this really happening?'
The next day, we took it slow, no milk, more carbs, Pablo was lethargic. I was convinced it was food poisoning. Too many peaches. Typing it makes me realize I think like an old wives tale. So when we went to fly and Pablo took a super long nap, I breathed a sigh of relief. He'll sleep it off. But as I ate my lunch and my glass of wine didn't seem so right and my fish tasted too fishy, I would be lying to myself if I wasn't worried something else was lurking in our tummies. As we landed, Pablo asked for a little milk, and I indulged, knowing I was breaking every doctor and mommy rule in the book, but I wanted him to be soothed, comforted. He drank it, seemed fine. 20 minutes later as we were looking up to the screen for our luggage information, the exorcist returned. Vomit everywhere, milky, curdly vomit and the little food he had eaten all day. Bless his heart, Pablo was more chill about it than his mom. He strutted through the airport shirtless until we were able to get our suitcase.
Wednesday hit, and my stomach and body started to twist and turn, shrivel up, slow down. "My tummy hurts" was becoming common conversation with Pablo and I throughout the day.
And on Thursday, I could barely move and was walking around nauseous when I decided to call it a day, and take a family trip to our pediatrician. She strictly prescribed "No sugar, no raw foods, rice, bread, crackers, liquids... and rest.. plus a capsule of liquid probiotics a day."
It's Sunday morning, and we seem to be on the up and up, but I missed some quality adult foodie experiences (Korean and Julia) I needed this week and am going on week 5 of single parenting so I am hoping and praying that today will be the last day we share the phrase "My tummy hurts" for awhile.
#Day1 #SOL2020 #Sliceoflifechallenge
Monday, February 17, 2020
Wet and Wild: A Monday Bike Ride Home in the Rain
Woosh! Said the wind as I opened the door to leave the dentist's office and could see the sprinkles starting to freefall from the sky, sporatically like popcorn. So, I jumped onto my creaky bike, opened the gate, and went for it. What choice did I have?
All around me, the earth was going wild like a drunken frat boy, wind pushing and flailing.
I grasped my handlebars uncertain and glimpsed up at the swirling clouds in the grey sky. No sign of lightning. Pedal to the metal.
I glided along, feeling the rain on my head, drops sliding down my cheeks, a welcomed cooler shower in a day of muggy heat.
I kept on going, intentionally weighing myself down, paranoid of the flippant tires and bouncy, often breakable frame, I said a silent prayer.
It was at this point that water started appearing all over my body, no longer a trickle, now, there was pelting rain, spray coming up from the pavement on my feet, and a wind that whipped the rain in at least 10 different directions.
With the wind, came a stop, and I pulled over to shelter in the steep doorway of an abandoned car dealership. 2 minutes later a man came running around the corner. He saw me, gave me empathetic eyes, then ran to his car and drove away. I thought to myself 'Really? Could someone see that I am helpless here? In my green teacher dress, with my blue teacher bag, and my bouncy white bike? Was I that threatening for someone to stop and offer a ride?
As the wind eased up, I took an opportunity to run through the puddles, splashing along from one doorway to another. Soon, I arrived at a Remis or Taxi stand, "Tienes coches que cabe mi bicing?" Do you have any cars that my bike will fit in? "No hay coches." Gut punch. "Y si hay, no cabe tu bicing." Slap in the face. Was that really necessary?
Defeated I walked on until I saw some fellow cyclists looking like wet dogs, riding a long, with a smirk on their faces, saying "We get it. Just go!"
It was then that I embarked on the last 15 minutes of my journey, laughing occasionally at the ridiculousness of it all, smiling at the fact that I for the first time all day, felt refreshed. With the last 5 minutes getting progressively darker as I approached my home, I channeled Thomas the Tank "I think I can" to get me that last 2 km and arrived on my steps, pumped for a warm shower and dry clothes.
All around me, the earth was going wild like a drunken frat boy, wind pushing and flailing.
I grasped my handlebars uncertain and glimpsed up at the swirling clouds in the grey sky. No sign of lightning. Pedal to the metal.
I glided along, feeling the rain on my head, drops sliding down my cheeks, a welcomed cooler shower in a day of muggy heat.
I kept on going, intentionally weighing myself down, paranoid of the flippant tires and bouncy, often breakable frame, I said a silent prayer.
It was at this point that water started appearing all over my body, no longer a trickle, now, there was pelting rain, spray coming up from the pavement on my feet, and a wind that whipped the rain in at least 10 different directions.
With the wind, came a stop, and I pulled over to shelter in the steep doorway of an abandoned car dealership. 2 minutes later a man came running around the corner. He saw me, gave me empathetic eyes, then ran to his car and drove away. I thought to myself 'Really? Could someone see that I am helpless here? In my green teacher dress, with my blue teacher bag, and my bouncy white bike? Was I that threatening for someone to stop and offer a ride?
As the wind eased up, I took an opportunity to run through the puddles, splashing along from one doorway to another. Soon, I arrived at a Remis or Taxi stand, "Tienes coches que cabe mi bicing?" Do you have any cars that my bike will fit in? "No hay coches." Gut punch. "Y si hay, no cabe tu bicing." Slap in the face. Was that really necessary?
Defeated I walked on until I saw some fellow cyclists looking like wet dogs, riding a long, with a smirk on their faces, saying "We get it. Just go!"
It was then that I embarked on the last 15 minutes of my journey, laughing occasionally at the ridiculousness of it all, smiling at the fact that I for the first time all day, felt refreshed. With the last 5 minutes getting progressively darker as I approached my home, I channeled Thomas the Tank "I think I can" to get me that last 2 km and arrived on my steps, pumped for a warm shower and dry clothes.
Sunday, February 9, 2020
We live. We learn. We love.
Today, a dear friend, asked me about what I would miss about Argentina. Argentina has been fruitful for me in many ways. First, I feel stronger as a coach, from being able to do graduate work around student-centered coaching and put those skills into immediate practice, develop and fine tune them over the last two years. Secondly, I am probably speaking Spanish better than I ever have in the last 11 years of studying, immersing myself in, learning it. Finally, I will miss the rich and diverse group of friends I have here.
You see, I entered Argentina, at a peculiar and new point of my life. I was now "a woman with kids." Never before had I had that label preceding me. To add on to this, I wasn't just a woman with kids, I was a woman with a toddler. Pablo was just 1 when we docked up in Argentina and after traveling across 4 continents in a month with a 1 year old, upon arrival, I was already asking myself "Did I make the right decision for my family?"
We live. We learn. We love.
So, here I am 1.5 years later, approaching the end of my time in Argentina, and currently, single parenting. Everyone knows the importance of asking for help but how many of us are actually good at doing it or honest with ourselves when we need it. Likewise, how many people can you count on that will listen, be there, give you practical and realistic feedback and still love you.
We live. We learn. We love.
This weekend, I reached out to about 6 friends for help around the weekends and getting in 1-2 hours of exercise. I am a physical person and being outdoors and in nature and exercise is food for my soul. It helps balance my emotions and exercise helps me be a better person and more importantly at the moment, a better mom. The reality is, as many single mommas, I am sure know, that exercise is one of the first things to go when you are sailing your own ship with a toddler.
During the week, I am blessed by my nanny, Vero, who loves Pablo inside and out and stays around to allow me to get some workouts in, etc. During the weekend, it's harder finding someone to come to hangout for an hour or two. Still, when you have a tribe of people who are kind, understanding and supportive, they will make this happen. Within minutes of sending out a call for help, my Buenos Aires tribe was on it, putting a couple hours in their schedules over the next few weeks to help me get a couple of hours on my own and to also, let Pablo and I both take some time away from each other. I love my child to the moon and back but we are all better if we can let off some steam and breath a bit independently, if we are given this blessing.
So, although, I am leaving Argentina after 2 years, it has helped me realize the importance of tribes and letting go, and asking for help. Near and far, call out to your crew, whether its justification of the doubtful voices in your head overanalyzing something that seems really odd, or whether its a call for a moment to breath while on single parenting mode, find your people who will be everything for you.
I promise you. It's not only worth the time and effort. It's love and joy for your soul and those around you.
You see, I entered Argentina, at a peculiar and new point of my life. I was now "a woman with kids." Never before had I had that label preceding me. To add on to this, I wasn't just a woman with kids, I was a woman with a toddler. Pablo was just 1 when we docked up in Argentina and after traveling across 4 continents in a month with a 1 year old, upon arrival, I was already asking myself "Did I make the right decision for my family?"
We live. We learn. We love.
So, here I am 1.5 years later, approaching the end of my time in Argentina, and currently, single parenting. Everyone knows the importance of asking for help but how many of us are actually good at doing it or honest with ourselves when we need it. Likewise, how many people can you count on that will listen, be there, give you practical and realistic feedback and still love you.
We live. We learn. We love.
This weekend, I reached out to about 6 friends for help around the weekends and getting in 1-2 hours of exercise. I am a physical person and being outdoors and in nature and exercise is food for my soul. It helps balance my emotions and exercise helps me be a better person and more importantly at the moment, a better mom. The reality is, as many single mommas, I am sure know, that exercise is one of the first things to go when you are sailing your own ship with a toddler.
During the week, I am blessed by my nanny, Vero, who loves Pablo inside and out and stays around to allow me to get some workouts in, etc. During the weekend, it's harder finding someone to come to hangout for an hour or two. Still, when you have a tribe of people who are kind, understanding and supportive, they will make this happen. Within minutes of sending out a call for help, my Buenos Aires tribe was on it, putting a couple hours in their schedules over the next few weeks to help me get a couple of hours on my own and to also, let Pablo and I both take some time away from each other. I love my child to the moon and back but we are all better if we can let off some steam and breath a bit independently, if we are given this blessing.
So, although, I am leaving Argentina after 2 years, it has helped me realize the importance of tribes and letting go, and asking for help. Near and far, call out to your crew, whether its justification of the doubtful voices in your head overanalyzing something that seems really odd, or whether its a call for a moment to breath while on single parenting mode, find your people who will be everything for you.
I promise you. It's not only worth the time and effort. It's love and joy for your soul and those around you.
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