Skip to main content

Sitting in My Usual Spot

I am sitting in my usual spot.
At least it has been my usual spot for about a week now.
It has become my work space.
It's where I sit to participate in online summer PD activities.
It's where I read.
It's where I write.

My usual spot is in a corner of the couch.
The arm rest is unusually wide.
I can pile my books, notebooks and even my laptop there.
And, I do.

I used to have a more conventional work space,
but then my husband, who works from home,
and was struggling to stick to his side of the desk,
finally spread out,
invading my work space.

One day, after many attempts at getting organized,
and not succeeding,
he told me that he was going to add an extension to our house,
so I could have my own work space.
I told him it was cheaper to tidy up.
That was months ago.

Before claiming my usual spot,
I set up a temporary, wobbly table against a wall in my bedroom
for a work space.
I used that for a few months.
Not ideal, but better than nothing.

I've reclaimed my conventional work space this week.
I cajoled and threatened,
until finally my husband took everything off the table,
stuffed it somewhere or filled up the trash can with it.
It doesn't really matter,
but now I have my work space back.

But, I'm in my usual spot tonight.
And, instead of taking 100 steps in any direction,
stopping and jotting down what I hear, see
and anything else that comes to my mind (the Teachers Write assignment for today),
I am sitting in my corner of the couch.

I am writing.
Anything.
Because I am trying to take risks.
That's what I pledged to do yesterday.
Instead of worrying about not following the assignment as described,
I decided to take a leap.
Do something different.
Write.
Instead of making excuses,
that lead to not writing,
to not taking risks.

So here I am.

It was relatively quiet a few moments ago.
Now, my husband has turned on the TV to watch a local soccer match.
This is a treat, though you may not know this.
We've been without a television for about a year.
Until just a couple of weeks ago.
Really, we didn't miss much.
Except the soccer matches and the occasional Netflix movie.

I hear the sports commentator on the television.
I don't know what he's saying,
nor do I care.

Someone has turned on a set of lights,
directed at my husband's and my shared workspace.
It shines far away from me,
where I am sitting,
in my usual spot.

The curtains are drawn,
but I can see outside the window as the night
curtain starts to go down.
A large cloud blankets the still, blue sky.
There is a smattering of lights.
Across the ravine,
I watch the city light up.

The wind has died down, though it was loud and strong an hour ago.

My son has turned on the lights in the dining room.
I can't see him from where I'm positioned,
but I bet he's sitting on a stool, at the kitchen counter,
with his iPad or a book or a drawing notebook, nearby.

And, it's just another summer evening.

It doesn't matter whether I take 100 steps,
or just sit in my usual spot.

I observe.
I notice.
I write.

Crossposted to Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Tuesday.







Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Partner Reading and Content, Too Routine (PRC2)

I'm a hoarder. There, I've said it. I try to deny that I'm a hoarder but it comes back to haunt me every time I move houses, or pack up my classroom at the end of the school year. I have old articles, lesson plans, handouts, folders brimming with teaching ideas, past issues of profesional journals. I hardly throw anything out though I've learned to be more selective over the years. My one rule of thumb, and I really try to stick to this, is that if I haven't used or referred to something in a year, then it's time to toss it into the recycle bin. One exception to this rule (you knew this was coming, didn't you?) is past issues of journals from professional organizations. However, with the ability to locate articles online through my professional memberships, even this exception is becoming less and less useful, which brings me to the topic of this blog post. I am currently reading a copy of The Reading Teacher from 2010. I've clipped a cou

The Reading Strategies Book - Chapter 12, Supporting Students’ Conversations – Speaking, Listening, and Deepening Comprehension

The strategy lessons highlighted in Chapter 12, Supporting Students’ Conversations – Speaking, Listening, and Deepening Comprehension, in The Reading Strategies Book by Jennifer Serravallo are critical to students’ engagement and comprehension, as well as their ability to write literary essays, or even book reviews, summaries and reflective pieces about books. If students aren’t able to talk about books in a way that is invigorating and joyful, they will be less likely to develop an interest in growing ideas for writing about books. In her introduction to this chapter, Jennifer Serravallo, reminds us that when conversations go well, children are inspired by what they read and are motivated to keep reading. However, when conversations fall flat, then kids get bored and tune out. How do we avoid this situation and teach kids to  have  focused conversations about books?  The answer is easy: teach kids  strategies to help them develop effective conversational skills .  As in

Are we listening?

A child sits alone with a ripped worksheet packet on his desk. He appears to be singing or subvocalizing something though no one hears him. Or, perhaps they're ignoring him. The teacher stands at the front of the room teaching on the SmartBoard. The children follow along in their worksheets. Except the child sitting alone. He is in his own world. No one engages him and he engages no one. My heart aches for this child. He is physically and emotionally removed from the class. I ask him why his paper is ripped. (It's not an accidental rip.) He says he did that on a different day. When he had been frustrated about the work. He tells me that he sometimes sits by himself because the work is too hard for him. He later tells me that he sits by himself because the teacher thinks he talks too much during the lesson.  He says he does that because he wants to find out about the "lives of the other children". My first impulse is to rescue him from the wrongheade