Glimpses of Summer

As the sun poured in through our dining room window, I knew that I simply could not spend the day cooped up inside our apartment. Household chores were going to have to wait. The birds outside seemed to be singing a song to me, beckoning me to join them outside. How could I say no?

I looked over at my husband. Hunched over a thick book, he was diligently studying for his upcoming CFA exam. Without needing to ask, I knew that he would be at the table studying for at least seven or eight more hours, just as he had been doing every day for the last several weeks. There was no way he could join me, but I decided to head out for a bike ride and enjoy the weather anyway. So, I took off to one of my favorite places to spend a summer Saturday-the Olentangy bike trail.

For two hours, I relished the feeling of the sun's rays on my arms as my legs pedaled hard. I smiled, taking in all of my surroundings. All around me, were glimpses of summer:

Patches of purple flowers poking their heads through the lush green grass
and little "cotton ball" wisps floating in the summer breeze

Photo Creditt: Shandi-lee via photopin cc

Little girls with brightly-colored streamers blowing from their bicycle handle bars
and college friends relaxing together around a picnic blanket

Photo Credit: stevendepolo via photopin cc

Intimidating-looking geese protectively guarding their fuzzy goslings
and lively golden retrievers playfully splashing around in the lake.  

Photo Credit: JWagnonPhotography via photopin cc

Each of the 30 miles I rode held unexpected treasures. When I finally returned home after my people/nature-watching adventure, my heart was happy. It had been a splendid way to spend a Saturday afternoon...and the holiday weekend meant that I would get to do it all over again on Monday!

A picture from my own camera of my bike ride
along the Olentangy bike trail! 

Slice of Life is a weekly blogging challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers.

Check out their webpage and then join us each Tuesday to share a slice of your life!

A Birthday Celebration

A gleeful shriek escaped from my mouth when I found out that I was the "lucky caller number 15" and that I had just won a fifty dollar gift card to a fancy restaurant in Dublin, Ohio. Immediately upon hanging up the phone, I pulled up the website for La Scala Italian Bistro to peruse their menu and long list of live entertainment. This restaurant was definitely out of our price range for a normal date, but with my prize the menu prices seemed more manageable. "When should we use it?" I wondered. This was not a "regular" date night restaurant. No, we needed to save this gift card for something extra special. I put the gift card in a safe place and waited for just the right occasion.

So, when my birthday rolled around last week, my husband and I decided that we had finally found the perfect time to use my radio prize winnings. I was giddy with excitement as I got ready. I spent extra time primping--dressing up far more than I would on the average Saturday night. I carefully tied the belt around my new dress and even lined both of my eyes!

My husband and I walked into the restaurant holding hands and when we were escorted to our table reserved for two, I knew that this was going to be a special birthday dinner.

The lights were dim and soft piano music played in the background. People all around us were celebrating--high schoolers in prom dresses and tuxedos, a table full of friends posing for a birthday photo, and a family with two "Happy Birthday" balloons floating above their table. My attention didn't linger around me for long, though. My husband and I were in our own little bubble. We had escaped from the "real world" for a short while and had entered our own magical little world of happiness and celebration.

We chatted happily while our waitress delivered our shrimp cocktail, carefully arranged in a martini glass. We spoke with anticipation about our upcoming trip to Greece as she refilled our drinks, delivered a fresh, soft loaf of bread, and later presented our main courses to us--dishes that both looked and tasted exquisite. I savored each bite, but what I truly savored most was the quality time and conversation with the man I love.

I realized that I didn't need a gift card to a fancy restaurant to make my birthday a special one. Sure, the ambiance and delicious meal certainly contributed to making my birthday more special, but what truly made the night perfect was the quality, uninterrupted time with the one seated across from me. And that's a gift I don't have to win a contest on the radio to enjoy!

Slice of Life is a weekly blogging challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers.

Check out their webpage and then join us each Tuesday to share a slice of your life!

Two Problems, Two "Victories," and Two Very Different Feelings

"The baggage charge should be credited to your card in a few business days. If there's a problem, you can call U.S. Airways and they will take care of it for you" the man at the U.S. Airways counter told me last time I was in the airport. Because they had switched my flight to United, I no longer had to pay the baggage fee due to my "preferred status" with Star Alliance. I thanked him and sincerely hoped that the charge would be dealt with so that I didn't have to call.

A couple of weeks later, upon seeing that the charge had not been taken off my card, I braved the customer service phone line. Already annoyed at the fact that I had to call in the first place, I could feel my patience wearing thinner and thinner with each additional minute that I was forced to endure the repetitive "hold music." I knew that I had been on hold for a long time when I heard my husband unconsciously whistling the same tune from another room.

By the time I was finally able to speak with a representative, I was ready to be finished with the whole process and was beginning to wonder if the reimbursement was worth it. So, when I explained my problem to the customer service agent and was told that I needed to jump through another series of hoops in order to get my money back, let's just say that I was not feeling like the best version of myself. My cheeks reddened and my heart beat a bit faster. I was downright frustrated.

And then, I am sorry to say, I lost my cool. My tone tensed, my volume level raised a bit, and I was not polite when I asked the customer service representative to ask her supervisor if he/she could solve the problem so that I didn't have to waste any more time. Within a few minutes, the problem was solved, and my credit card was reimbursed.

I guess one could say that I had been "victorious." Yet, when I hung up the phone, I felt like anything but a champion. I had my money back, but at what cost? I had let my emotions dictate my behavior and I was filled with regret. Given an opportunity to show love and patience to someone who probably doesn't receive much of that in her line of work, I had utterly failed. Sigh.

There was nothing I could do to fix the situation now, but I prayed, repented, and resolved in my heart to do better next time. As I did, I told God that I needed His strength to help me respond lovingly and to not let my attitude be dictated by circumstance.

Almost exactly 24 hours later, I stood in the dry cleaner's with another opportunity to practice responding in love. When I passed my receipt to the attendant, I was told that not only was my order not ready (one week after I had dropped it off) it had not even even been started. To top it off, my comforter had been laying on the ground. Ick! I was not happy, but just as I started to feel my cheeks redden, I heard a voice inside my head preaching back to me some of the verses I had just read that morning. I remembered the messages of Ephesians 6:10 & 19, Titus 2:6–9 and 2 Peter 1:3–7 and thought of my resolve to obey. 

This was a fork in the road. I could respond in emotion and go down the path of destruction, as I had the night before, or I could choose life and love. I took a breath and kindly asserted myself to the attendant. As I explained my concerns, I smiled, I was polite, and I remembered that the individual across from me was a real person in need of love. As I did, part of me wondered if I would get walked all over as a result. "It doesn't matter," I preached to myself. "The important thing is to do the right thing."

I left the dry cleaner's with no resolution other than two promises from the girl at the desk: A) that she would start dry cleaning my order right away and B) that she would tell the manager about my situation.

Two hours later, I got a call from the business. Their solution? Not only were they starting my dry cleaning right away, but they were doing it free of charge and were going to deliver it to my apartment the next day! I couldn't believe it. That's what I call a victory! I hung up the phone and smiled. In the past 24 hours, I had encountered two problems and saw two victories, but one felt so much sweeter than the other, providing not just a resolution to the problem at hand, but a triumph of progress in my own life.

Slice of Life is a weekly blogging challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers.
Check out their webpage and then join us each Tuesday to share a slice of your life!

Honor Cords

Waves of black polyester blew a midst the sea of 10,000 graduates. My eyes darted from one colored Master's hood to another, desperately trying to find the one graduate who held my heart. Finally, miraculously, I spotted him in the crowd.

"There he is!" I squealed, quickly zooming in my camera lens as far as it would go.

Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap! My camera joined the chorus of others around me, as a stadium full of spectators sought to somehow preserve this priceless moment in a tangible form.

I reviewed the pictures I had snapped to ensure that I had at least a handful that were worthy of including in the photo album I would later make. As I zoomed in on the small screen to examine my photography work, the black polyester and brightly-colored hoods faded into the background, and as they did, one object became the clear focus of my gaze.

It was a strand of four carefully woven cords that hung regally around my husband's neck and draped over his shoulders. Golden and royal blue, the cords stood out in stark contrast to their black background. The small number of graduates that were similarly ornamented proved that these cords were rare and valuable--costly in a way that money couldn't buy.

But as I looked upon these four cords, it was not their appearance that caught my attention. Instead, what gripped me was the sweet story they told. Theirs was a story so powerful that it drowned out the cheers and chatter coming from the 60,000 people around me, leaving me completely captivated. It was a story I knew well, but one I was happy to relive.

Blowing in the wind, the cords whispered the tale of an underdog. They told of a man trained extensively in music, not finance--one who had the courage to enter the unknown world of business equipped with only the knowledge he had gained from his personal reading of the works of Benjamin Graham and Warren Buffett.

Swish, Swish. The cords swayed, speaking now of that same man, lacking confidence and expecting to rank at the bottom of every MBA class. They told of his hard work, determination, and many sleepless nights.

And then, as the wind changed direction, the cords began a new chapter in their story. They championed the triumphant underdog, who, by God's grace, rose to the top 15% of his class, coming from far behind and excelling in every area of the new world he had entered.

On and on the cords went, telling their story and reminding me of the many sacrifices that had been made along the road to this graduation ceremony. As I listened to their tale, my heart overflowed with pride and love for the man who humbly donned the four honor cords.

Slice of Life is a weekly blogging challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers.
Check out their webpage and then join us each Tuesday to share a slice of your life! 

Unexpected Encounters

About two hours after arriving at the banquet, my energy level was starting to fade. It wasn't that the conversation around my table hadn't been enjoyable or that the first portion of the presentations weren't inspiring. I did enjoy meeting the other people seated at my table and I had been uplifted as I listened to the director of IFI talk about the mission and vision of this volunteer organization, created to meet the needs of international students studying in the U.S.  Still, as I sat among 700 other IFI partners, with a full belly after a delicious meal, the fatigue that I had been combating with caffeine all week resurfaced in a powerful way. My eyelids began to droop and I felt a twinge of guilt as I tried to discreetly glance at the program to determine how much longer the banquet would last.  

“One more speaker left,” I thought, reading the program. Thus far, I estimated that each person who took the stage had spoken or performed for about 15 minutes. “We’re almost finished, then" I concluded.

But when the man on stage started to introduce the next speaker, I realized that I was wrong.

"And now for our keynote speaker... " he began.

“Keynote speaker? I thought the speech from the program director was the main event. This banquet is going to last much longer than I thought…”  The fight against my fatigue was getting harder and harder. I tried to telepathically plead with the serving staff to offer some after-dinner coffee, but it was to no avail.  Then, suddenly, the gentleman on the stage continued introducing the keynote speaker with one simple phrase that jolted me more than even a shot of espresso could have.

“L is a professor at P University, one of China’s most prestigious institutions…” he announced, as he listed many of her accomplishments.

Instantly, I perked up. My husband, sitting in front of me, must have felt the same burst of energy. He whipped around and stared at me with wide eyes and a look of disbelief, as if to say, “The keynote speaker is from P University? The P University? The very campus we have walked and biked on hundreds of times? The school where we celebrated our first Christmas a married couple, and the place we met with both Chinese and American friends on a regular basis for three years?”

Miraculously, every ounce of tiredness dissipated. My attention was now fixated on the Chinese woman standing on the stage facing a ballroom full of people.  I hung on her every word as she described the life events that brought her to the U.S for college several years ago, her experiences with IFI as an international student, and her life now as a well-known and respected professor at P. University. I sat in awe as she described her M.O. and ultimate purpose, which were so similar to what mine had been as a former teacher in China. My eyes filled with tears as she cycled through a series of pictures of her and her students on their university campus. For the rest of the banquet attendees, the background of these pictures portrayed unfamiliar Chinese buildings. But for my husband and me, they were pictures of a place that had been our home for three of the best years of our lives.

I have no idea how long she spoke. Thirty minutes? Forty? I couldn't tell you. However long it was, it wasn't enough. I wanted to hear more.  

The crowd of people that circled around her at the end of the banquet was worth wading through just to have a few more precious moments with L. A burst of glee erupted within my heart when I discovered that we shared a handful of mutual friends. Though L and I had never met on campus, even though we may have unknowingly crossed paths, she knew some of my best friends!

As we chatted briefly about common connections, I could feel the crowd of people around me growing impatient, as they slowly, but noticeably, inched closer to L. Sadly, I realized that my individual time with her had to come to an end. But I would see L one day again. Of this I was certain. We were, after all, sisters, connected by our spiritual like-mindedness and the sharing of a place we have, at one point, both called “home.”

Twitterpated

Less than a week ago, my relationship with Twitter was pretty much limited to watching Jimmy Fallon's "hashtag" videos. But on Friday afternoon, I told myself that it was time to actually get acquainted with this social media site. I had avoided it for 8 years, but that afternoon, I assured myself that if the educators I respect most use it as one of many technological tools in their "teacher tool kits," there had to be more to it than I had given it credit for. I still wasn't 100% convinced that "Twitter for educational purposes" wasn't some kind of oxymoron, but I silenced the doubts and set out to discover what Twitter had to offer.

After creating an account, I began to talk to myself as I journeyed into the land of Twitter...

Now, how do I find Jennifer's site? She's really the one that prompted me to take the Twitter plunge, so I should see what's on her page first.

Tap, Tap, Tap, went my keyboard.

Ah! There she is! I scanned her Twitter feed. It wasn't exactly what I had envisioned.

I thought Twitter pages were basically Facebook-esque little status updates. I see some things like that, but this seems pretty different from Facebook. It's really more of a huge web of conversation. 

My brain attempted to make sense of everything I was seeing. This is kind of like a foreign language...with all of these @s and #s....After glancing at some of the words next to the number signs hashtags, "#dubchat" caught my eye.

CLICK!

Instantly, a massive chain of conversation with each small piece including the label, "#dubchat" opened up on my screen. Whoa!  For the first time, I realized that "hashtags" weren't just randomly made-up phrases to summarize someone's Twitter "status" (Pardon my code-switching between Facebook and Twitter words...I think I'm still in the interlanguage phrase of Twitter-language acquisition).

Hold on...so, everyone on this page uses the same #-label for each post. That must mean that the #s aren't really summaries of a particular post, but labels that connect everyone's comments together. Hmm....interesting! 

As I scanned the page, I quickly realized that I had at my fingertips an hour-long discussion between educators in a nearby school district. And, of all things, they were discussing the uses of technology in schools! How apropos!

I almost felt like I was eavesdropping as I read through their conversation, which was essentially a virtual round table discussion. At first, I tried to figure out exactly how this Twitter world worked...

Okay...so, you use the @ sign to reply back to a specific person and you label your tweet with a specific # so that everyone's comments go to the same place...

I took mental notes.

Before I knew it, though, I was no longer focused on how to use Twitter, but instead on how much I could learn from it. Wonderful ideas from contributing educators seemed never-ending. I took more notes:

Hosting parent education tech nights
Collaborating through Google drive and Google handout
Utilizing Google forms
24/7 learning
Technology as a way to differentiate learning
Redefining instruction and assessment
Giving students an opportunity to write for audiences beyond just the teacher
Teachers as guides who help students learn to find information

Who knew that so much could be communicated in 140 characters or less? Not me... that's for sure! 

One contributor called this style of communication the "PD of the future." I could definitely see it.

I was excited. My former doubts about educational uses for Twitter seemed far away. This is awesome. Now, I need to find people to be my Twitter friends.

Checking out my graduate mentor teacher's list of "friends" seemed like a good place to start, so I returned to her profile.  Oh, they are followers...and then there's those you are following...not friends. Ok, got it. So, who is she following? I began to scan through the list.

Oooh! A Twitter account all about educational technology? I could definitely use that!  The blue rectangle labeled "Follow" enticed me. Should I click it? Why not? 

CLICK!

I read some more descriptions.

English teaching resources? Well, I have to follow that! 
          CLICK!

Collaborative help for teaching ELLs? Yes, please! 
          CLICK!

TESOL? Another obvious choice!
          CLICK!

Ooohh....Stacey, Anna, Dana, Betsy, Tara, and Beth from Two Writing Teachers? Awesome! They are all so talented!
          CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Lynda Mullay Hunt? Hey! That's the author of One for the Murphys! That book was incredible!
         CLICK!

Ralph Fletcher? Whoa! I used his poetry as a mentor text last month! 
          CLICK!

Michelle N? Hey! That's my Slice of Life friend! I definitely want to follow her!
          CLICK!

I was clicking like crazy in my "follow" frenzy. Before I knew it, I had followed more than 30 people and I was having so much fun! You might even say I was "twitterpated." I couldn't wait to start reading what they all had to say.

Not once did it cross my mind that I should edit my own Twitter profile until moments later when I opened my Gmail inbox. Three unread messages? All from Twitter? Hmm...Wait...what?! A mixture of panic and excitement flowed through my veins. People are following ME? Oh, gosh! 

In my excitement to learn what others were saying, I hadn't really considered that people might want to know what I had to say. What did I have to say? 

Thus far, the answer had been absolutely nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I was the ambiguous, faceless twitter account with zero tweets. I better do something about that! But what am I going to say? 

I had a feeling a new learning journey was about to commence.

Where I'm From

A few weeks ago, I attempted to face my fear of writing poetry after Anna Gratz Cockerille encouraged slicers to create their own rendition of the "The Good Old Days", using Ralph Fletcher's original poem as a mentor text.  After getting my feet wet with that poem, my supervising teacher for my TESOL field experience (and the one who inspired me to start blogging with the Slice of Life community) introduced me to another great mentor text for poetry: "Where I'm From" by George Ella Lyon.

In light of it being National Poetry Month and the  fact that I just spent the last 5 days with my wonderful family in my childhood home, today seems like the perfect day to compose my own "Where I'm From" poem. To create my work, I used both the original poem and my supervising teacher's poem as mentor texts.

To be honest, I have been working on this poem sporadically for a couple of weeks and am just now putting the "final" touches on it (though I'm not sure I will ever be completely finished revising it). As I composed it, I found myself wondering if the most personal poems are the hardest to publish. I struggled to know which descriptions of "Where I'm From" to include and it pained me to leave some of them behind. Even today, my fingers hesitate as they hover over the "Publish" button on my screen, listening to the doubts in my mind of whether or not my poem is "ready."

Like many of my previous posts, creating this one has, I believe, prepared me in a small way for my future life as an ESL teacher. I have been reminded of how personal our writing can be and of the hesitancy writers may face as they prepare to share their work with others. Today, I am able to try my hand at poetry and attempt to describe "Where I'm From" with the Slice of Life community because there is a pre-exiting relationship there characterized by trust and a lack of judgement. I know that what I write does not have to be the best...it just needs to be my best right now. As I reflect on this, I am inspired to take active measures to create this same sense of community in my future classroom in order to help my students blossom into confident writers. I know that it won't come easily, but it is certainly a goal worth pursuing! Perhaps in the future, I will be able to tell them "Where I'm From" and listen to them share their own stories with me.

~

Where I’m From 

(modeled after George Ella Lyon's original)

I am from bicycles,

from hiking boots and family-sized camping tents.

I am from the motor boat on “Grandpa’s Lake.”

(Wrinkled and wet, my fingers

wore the effects of swimming all day long.)

I am from mounds of white snow

piled high 

outside a grey brick house,

the perfect building blocks for snow day forts.

I am from tea parties and Happy Hunters,

carousels and Spiedies,

       from Aud and Zig.

I’m from the cyclists

       and the mini-golfers,

from Why worry when you can pray?

I’m from Say 3 nice things about your sister!

       with ridiculous responses

       that ended our fights in giggles.

I’m from Buttermilk Falls and Jones’ Humdinger,

beautiful gorges and ice cream cones with jimmies.

From Beanie Babies and Precious Moments,

       given by my Aunt Mary

whose memory lives strong in my heart.

Around the dinner table

my family shares our memories

with stories and laughter.

They abide in my heart,

bringing me back

to where I’m from

whenever it seems far away.