My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 13th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which hundreds of teachers participate in posting a story per day.
Dear Kids,
Last night we learned that all Vermont schools will remain closed for the remainder of the school year. For me, your mom, this is devastating news. I’m not worried about the two of you. You mom (me) is a literacy specialist. The two of you are going to be just fine.
No, I’m worried about all your classmates who don’t have a grown-up at home who can make sure they have breakfast and lunch every day, who can get them up in the morning, and put them to bed every night, who can teach their kindergarteners and first graders to read by the end of the year. I just want to cry.
But we are going to be just fine. We’ve got a schedule and routines. Both of you have already learned a ton just in our first week and a half. Jackson’s writing folder is already overflowing with stories and books he’s made, and Lily, you’ve already run out of math practice sheets. You’re both doing just fine.
What you might not know is that on the inside, I’m doing constant work to remain calm. Here’s a trick that my therapist friend taught me called “grounding.”
Name five things you can see.
Name five things you can touch.
Name five things you can smell.
Name five things you can taste.
Name five things you can hear.
Here’s what I can see, touch, smell, taste, and hear right now.
I can see my laptop, a stack of handouts that were meant to be used this week on a work trip that was cancelled, earbuds for the zoom meeting I will have later this morning, my reading glasses that I’m supposed to be wearing right now, and a pack of post-its.
I can touch the keyboard, my favorite soft tiger striped sweater that I’m wearing right now, the handle of my coffee mug, my soft sweatpants that I’ve been living in all week, and my favorite slippers.
I can smell my coffee, the scented gel pens in Lily’s art supplies, the weird smell our basement always has, the smell of the wool my sweater is made of, and if I pick one up, I can smell the smell of my books.
I taste my coffee (thank goodness I stocked up on my favorite kind), which in itself contains all kinds of flavors. I taste chocolate, something bitter, honey-sweetness, something a little bit tart, and the taste of the tiny bit of milk I always add to my coffee.
I can hear the clickety click of my keyboard, your voices (Lily and Jackson) playing with legos upstairs, a random unidentifiable beeping noise (a toy somewhere?), the low hum of the fridge we keep in the basement, and Indie’s soft doggy snoring at my feet.
This was a stressful week for me and your father, and next week will likely be worse. Things are really just getting started, I’m afraid. But the two of you will be just fine. With a little work and creativity, we’ll get through this just like always.
Love,
Your Mom