Mrs. Flaherty- Where's My Slice?

Write? You want me to write something? But I’m a math teacher! I mean…I used to teach writing, but that was so long ago! Do I even remember HOW to write a small moment?

These thoughts crept into my mind in the strangest places…

“Could THIS be my slice of life?” I thought when I went snowshoeing. I mean, it was kind of hilarious when I took a step up a white snowy drift only to catch my snowshoe on my other snowshoe and tumble backwards into a pile of snow, landing in perfect position for making snow angels (and I did!)

“Could THIS be my slice of life?” I thought as I stepped onto the sandy beach in Southampton with my dogs for their first view of the ocean. As the rough waves crashed onto the shore, the howling wind blew the sea foam across the sand for my pups to chase. I mean…when we approached the breakers and were chased (and caught!) by a fast moving wave nipping at our heels, it was great fun!

“But wait! Could THIS be my slice of life? This one’s better…” I thought when I was on my way home from the beach trip and started feeling like I had grains of sand in my eyes, desperately wanting to be washed away. As the sinuses in my head grew increasingly angry they reared their ugly head in a flow of goopy green glop that oozed out of my eyes…now THAT was a good (and gross!) slice of life!

Then just this morning, as I celebrated the 2 hour school delay by descending to my basement to fit in a workout, the gift of time allowing me to do so, I realized the point of it all…

Every day is filled with small moments! Every moment is a slice of our wonderful and miraculous life! As long as we stop, look, listen, feel, and create, we all are always writers!

Mrs. Neskie- Pizza and French Fries

“It’s hard to learn as an adult,” they say. 

“It’s a fun winter sport to do as a family,” they say.

“Just remember pizza and french fries,” they say.

I am the only Neskie in my family that doesn’t ski. Even my two-year-old owns a pair of skis and has been up on a chairlift before. My six-year-old can go down a black diamond on his own. Is that even what it’s called?

I decided it was time to try.  I love facing my fears and jumping into the unknown. I reluctantly signed up for a lesson. A ‘beginner’ lesson, I had to check and double check as I was registering.

The morning of my lesson, my family walked me out to the bunny hill to meet my instructor and group. They dropped me off, and I heard my six-year-old yell at me as they walked away,  “Remember Mom, pizza and french fries!” 

We learned the basics during the first part of the lesson. How to walk in skis, use our poles and all about the pizza and french fries! I quickly learned that the pizza turn involves pointing your skis towards each other in a "V" shape to slow down, while the fries turn involves keeping your skis parallel to each other to turn. Surprisingly, I was catching on quickly.

At the end of our lesson, it was time to put it all together. We were going to ski down a hill! At this time, my family was there to watch me. Or maybe it was to laugh at me! 

It was my turn to go down the hill. My six-year-old again yelled out to me, “Pizza and french fries!” I pushed myself forward and I was off. I kept repeating to myself, pizza and french fries, pizza and french fries, pizza and french fries.  I looked up and I was doing it! I was skiing! 

I got to the bottom of the hill with the biggest smile on my face. I skied! I went over to hug my six-year-old and whispered to him, “Pizza and french fries, Ollie, pizza and french fries.”

Mrs. Dise- 4 am

If you asked me before I had kids if I was ever up at 4 am, my response would probably be, “only to catch a flight.” Even then, I would take a 2-hour nap later that day or go to bed at 6pm. Nowadays, it’s become a daily routine that I am up during the dreaded 4 o’clock hour.

Most mornings, I’m in a deep sleep when I hear the faint cry of my son. His cry pulls me quickly from my dreams, and as I raise my head, I hope just once that I’ll see a 5 displayed on the bedroom clock instead of a 4. As I lay my head back down on the pillow, I pray he will go back to sleep, but his cry only gets louder. After a couple minutes of procrastinating, I somehow muster the energy to drag myself out of my comfortable, warm bed.

I stumble down the dark hallway with my eyes barely open, bumping into the walls. My yellow lab, Lucy, is usually right behind me, stumbling just the same. Lucy follows me wherever I go, especially if there’s a chance she might get fed a little earlier than normal.

I warm up my son’s bottle and quietly open his door. His room is kept dark with a dim nightlight. I take a seat in the rocking chair and start to feed him with Lucy nestled at my feet. He looks up at me and smiles, not having any idea that his mommy is so exhausted she’d much rather be buried in her pillows. He grabs hold of my hair with one hand and plays with it or sometimes pulls it while he drinks his bottle.  Every now and then, if we’re lucky, he’ll go back to sleep once he’s done, and I can race back into bed.

After months of this same routine, my body is pretty accustomed to waking up so early. I try, as hard as it is, to cherish these 4 am wake-ups.  I know soon enough these moments will pass and I’ll look back and fondly remember these early mornings spent with my son. These beautiful, quiet moments, gazing into each other’s eyes, softly smiling, while the rest of the world sleeps.

Mrs. Maldonado- Snow Days, Delays, and Early Dismissals

Snow day?  Nothing!?  Not even a delay?!  I barely slept.  I was CERTAIN we would have a snow day…at LEAST a delay.  As I mope around the house, my phone buzzes.  It’s Simsbury Board of Ed!  It’s a delay!!!  Time to go back to bed.

Ice, snow, and wind lashed against the windowpanes, each drop a tiny anvil pounding on my hopes. I was CERTAIN, everyone else had a delay, why not us…

Mopey and hollow, I wandered the house, in a gloom of my own disappointment. But then, a buzz in my pocket, a tremor of possibility. Simsbury Board of Ed. My heart pounds, could it be possible… DELAY!

I set my alarm to wake me up in about an hour. Valerie and Emily have a delay, and since they’re still sleeping, maybe I can sleep for another half hour before they wake up for the day. As soon as I doze off, I hear the clickety-clack of Emily opening her door. SWOOSH! My door swings open and Emily walks in. So much for my half-hour nap. I get up and start getting the girls ready for school…still hopeful that I’ll get a closing. Farmington is closed and so is Canton and Avon. Alas, it’s 7:40am, and there is no way we’re getting a closing, let me start getting ready for school. As I drag my feet across the room to gather my makeup to look halfway decent for the day, that familiar buzz from my phone goes off. “That’s not a text, that’s a phone call,” I think to myself.  

“This is Neil Sullivan assistant Administration for Simsbury public schools Due to power outages, Simsbury public schools will be closed on Monday, December 18th. Once again, Simsbury public schools will be closed on Monday, December 18th.”

Mrs. Egan: I Am From

 I am from seashells and sunflowers.

I am from fig trees and meatballs.

Building sand castles at the beach with little hands and feet.

I am from homemade gnocchi and creamy lasagna.

I am from Nonna Rosina and Nonna Anna.

I am from “Don’t worry, be happy” and

“Call me when you get home.”

I am from Sunday sauce bubbling on the stove and garlic 

simmering in the pan.

From 1 of 7 and 1 of 2

From short, not very tall.

Under my bed was always clean.

“Get it done today!”

I am from those moments-

I am....ME!

Mrs. Lippincott, Mom and PTO Member- A Cold Day in January

It was a very cold, sunny Thursday afternoon. My two children were playing outside in the snow with the neighbors. I was warm inside watching from the window and getting started on dinner. I heard joyful laughing and shrieking as they sledded down the hill outside. For a while it was quiet. 

Suddenly, there were loud screams. I couldn’t make out what they were yelling.

These screams sounded different than the happy screams. 

Was someone hurt? 

Was there an argument?

I looked out the window and saw the two girls wrestling a white pom pom hat away from the playful dog across the street. The girls were ok (relief). 

I started putting on my coat and boots to go check on the two boys and they came running inside, still screaming and squealing. They were gasping to catch their breath. They are not hurt (relief again). The boys told me that they were playing in the woods across the street, and they stumbled upon a mama bear and two baby cubs! The girls came inside and now all four of them were excitedly trying to tell their version of the same story. 

The screams I heard were them yelling “bearrrrrr bearrrrrrrr bearrrrrrr”. They told me they slowly backed away, yelling “bear” until they were far enough away from the bears and then ran. They said the mama was staring at them and the babies ran up a tree. 

The brave one wanted to show me. We took a peek from a VERY VERY safe distance and we left the mama and cubs. We were very surprised to spot bears on this cold day in January. You never know what animals you will cross paths with in Simsbury. Nature is a beautiful thing. 

Mrs. Dell'Aera- Waiting for Spring

The wind rattled old windows. 

The temperature was in single digits. ‘

The sun peeked its head above the horizon.  

The smell of fresh coffee wafted up the stairway.  

The thumping of clothes filled the quiet air of the laundry room.

It was a Sunday morning in January… just the perfect time to start planning the garden.

Emmie carefully inventories the opened, worn seed packets.  She thumbs through the fresh, unopened packets; feverishly scribbling down varieties of vegetables and flowers, making note of which ones need reordering. 

Online seed catalogs were tabbed opened on the phone and a paper list was made of varieties that caught her fancy.  

Now it is my turn to look at her list and see the varieties she picked.  

Chitter chatter, just loud enough to be heard above the sound of the thumbing, tumbling clothes in the dryer.  “Wow, that must be a new variety of Snapdragon!? It’s almost as tall as EllaGrae.” I said.

“Oh wow… That is tall! Isn’t that color so pretty?” Emmie responded. 

“We definitely need to get tall varieties to make our flower bouquets taller this year,” Emmie said.

Back and forth we chatted with excitement as we solidified our seed order.

As I pressed the “Submit Order” button our conversation turned to when we should start setting up the racks, lights, and trays for the seeds. 

Now we wait. 

We wait for Jon the mailman to deliver our seeds so we can eagerly open the packages.

Then we wait again.

We wait for the calendar to get closer to spring. 

Mrs. LePage- Lobster Dinners

I was famished. The kind of hungry that only comes from swimming in the ocean and building sandcastles all day long. I struggled up the beach, that one stubborn corner of my towel making a snake trail behind me. The white plastic handle of my bright blue pail flexed with the weight of my treasures: perfect shells, special stones, maybe even a feather. My mom would help me spread my damp towel over the back seat of the car. Windows rolled down, the wind snarled my frizzy curls as we drove to the tiny, gray shack. The wheels crunched over the seashell parking lot, and we parked with the other cars that were always coming and going. I waited in the car with Dad while Mom went in. Soon she came out holding what looked like a soup can for giants. 

A few minutes more driving, and we pulled up to my grandparents’ tiny trailer. As I tumbled out of the car, Grammie and Grampa bustled out with warm hugs for all. They helped me spread my towel out on the picnic table bench so I wouldn’t get splinters. The camp stove hissed as Grampa lit it, and the huge can clanked onto the grate. I swung my sand-caked flip-flops and traced the ugly, bright flowers on the plastic tablecloth. 

“Is it ready yet?”

Sometimes, in order to distract me, we’d play games. My grandfather’s patient hands remade the fan of slippery cards each turn. Once in a while he’d put one in the front and tap it. When I looked at him, I’d get a tiny wink. 

“Grammie, do you have any 7’s?”

“How did you know?”

Every 100 hours or so, my dad or Grampa checked the can. Finally, finally, finally he would say, “I think it’s ready.”

Paper plates and mountains of napkins, bowls of broth and melted butter, nutcrackers, salt & pepper all appeared on the table. Out they’d scoop piles of steamers, potatoes, corn on the cob and those bright red, fabulous lobsters. I wrestled with that slippery nutcracker and had butter smears on my chin. The conversation settled down to “Here, try this”,  “Let me help you with that shell” and “Mmmm’s.”  And we feasted. We feasted on lobsters and steamers and togetherness and family stories and helping each other and love.

There’s nothing wrong with white tablecloth, suit and tie lobster dinner. But, for me, it will never be as wonderful as the damp bathing suit, sandy feet kind.

Mrs. Burgess: Dementia

Every night I come to visit you, in this place others

call your home, but I call it your hospital… 

Most nights you lay still in bed with your eyes closed. I color you pictures, sing you songs and feed you dinner. I call your name, hold your hand and talk about my day. You continue to lay still with your eyes closed.

 Some nights you open your eyes and look off into space. I try to vision what you're thinking about… always hoping you are thinking of me, and always hoping you know I am there with you. 

On rare nights, you open your eyes and make eye contact with me. Your eyes tear up and you smile. You continue to lay still and silent, but in these moments my heart is happy. You know who I am and I know you love me. These are the nights that make it all worth it. 

Mrs. Fluckiger- The Rough Draft

 Sounds and Questions- (An alternative version of Notice/ Wonder)  

Maybe…     Thoughts in Nature   or…   A Weekend Hike  boring…

Reasons Not to Hike Alone  not wrong… A Conversation with Myself  umm…   

  Why did I sign up for this?  (‘Cause writing is eeeeeasy…not)

humph. … TITLE HERE  (sigh…)

Crunch. (Onomatopoeia as a hook? Check!)

Gray light filters through the bare branches of the trees overhead.

I press my foot down again- harder

Crunch. Crack!

Why is it so satisfying to break ice? (you weirdo)

I move on down the path

It is worn down to the rocks below in places, but in a welcoming way- not a cold, slippery way. 

It is just mine for now, but I can tell others have been here before me

Why is that disappointing? (see? weird)

I can hear the creaking of tree trunks as they bend to the will of the gusting wind

Bend but don’t break (yep.)

As I hike along through these woods, alone with my thoughts, I appreciate the peace and wonder I feel-

briefly.

Between checking my watch to see how many miles I’ve gone (Why does that matter?!?) and playing with the nifty compass feature to see how good my sense of direction is (it’s pretty good) I get little waves of existential joy. 

Why is it that when I’m alone, in the middle of nowhere, I feel so connected?

Crunch.

 

Ooh, more ice! (yay!)

Mrs. Durst- The Gift of Time

The Monday before the holiday break. 

The wind howls and the rain comes down.

Why isn't it snowing to have the day off? So much to do before the break.

A call comes in, an hour later than usual. Ok, we have a 2-hour delay!

I get a batch of cookies baked.

An hour later another call from Simsbury Public Schools.

Could it be possible?!!

"Due to the weather and power outages,

school will be canceled today- December 18, 2023.

Enjoy the day and stay safe."

I jumped up and down, clapped, and yelled "Yayyy!"

Then I baked another batch of cookies.

What a wonderful gift. The unexpected gift of time.

Mrs. Napierski: An Unexpected Desire

     

Tick-Tock, HSSSSS, Crackle; the white noise of calm, and “silence” nestled in around me as I looked out the window. Curled tightly in a Sherpa blanket with a cup of warm tea in my hands as the trees swayed to and fro, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of longing. What is missing? I asked myself. 

For weeks I had been excitedly waiting for a moment of peace and serenity. I had clung to the hope of relaxing and thinking about absolutely nothing. I longed for this, but it wasn’t at all what I had thought it would be. Suddenly, I became confused and almost angry. The stresses of life and work combined had been making it very difficult to keep a positive attitude and smile every day, and all I thought I wanted and needed was a break. However, when my break came, it was nothing like what I expected. 

Slightly frustrated, I got up, poured the remnants of my tea down the sink, and decided to get ready for Christmas Eve dinner early. I turned on some classic Frank Sinatra Christmas songs, warmed up my curling iron, and began the process of “putting on my face.” Singing along with the classics began to cheer me up as I attempted to harmonize with Ol’ Blue Eyes. About an hour later, my hair was curled and my face was on; my husband was patiently waiting for me (as he always will).

The car ride to my in-laws' house was normal, but it was what happened that night that inspired me and gave me a whole new perspective. This was the first time I had spent Christmas with my in-laws, and I wasn’t sure what to expect; mind you, I have spent many normal weekends and holidays with them before and have always had the time of my life (my in-laws are wonderful)! For some reason, this being the first Christmas with them made me slightly nervous.

Of course, as soon as the night began to pick up momentum, I was totally fine, and I found myself having a grand old time. There was laughter. There was joy, and there were games being played and jokes being told. In the typical sense of the word, there was not a bit of peace to be had, yet I found myself more content and with less on my mind than ever before. In the loudness, craziness, and amazing chaos, I had found joy, rest, and relaxation. 

This winter break made me realize that my unexpected desire for the rest of the school year is loudness, fun, joy, and amazing chaos so that I can find “peace” in the workplace. They say that students are learning best when they are playing and having conversation; sometimes, a loud classroom is a learning classroom. I cannot wait for amazing chaos to ensue! Happy New Year!

Ms. Champagne- Canis Grata

 

When your kid is less than a year old, there are just some places you can’t take them. A loud concert or fine restaurant springs to mind. 

When your kid has 4 legs, there are just some places you can’t take them. Stores. Schools. Ski lifts. Stadiums. Soccer fields. A hundred other venues spring to mind.

As a mom to a 7-month, 4-legged kid, almost everywhere I go is on the canis non grata list, which is why I’m beyond grateful for a local school that gets it right. When I take my kid to this school, we are greeted by an open gate, a Ziploc full of doggy bags, and a sign that reads: 

PLEASE BE A GOOD NEIGHBOR

CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR DOG

Every time I walk past this sign (with a pocketful of my own doggy bags), I smile. I smile because here my kid gets to run and roam like all of the other kids. Here she can follow her instincts, chase, and be chased. I smile because here she can explore, share, listen, make friends, and care for others. 

I smile remembering how she once showed love to a 2 legged who had fallen off his swing. I smile some more thinking of how this type of encounter might help some 2 leggeds to trust 4 leggeds. 

I smile at my kid, and she smiles back at me because she’s happy here. Now. Being herself. Being with me. Being with everyone. Being a good neighbor. 

Mrs. Panyard- Pure Joy in the Snow

 

In the beautiful and serene landscape, a playful black lab named Tashmoo excitedly bounded through and dove into the light and fluffy untouched foot of snow.  Her black fur stood out against the white canvas as she continued to leap, twirl, and roll in the cold crisp air.  Her paws left imprints in the soft snow, creating a playful trail of tracks. 

Tashmoo’s excitement was contagious, attracting the attention of a neighbor's dog who couldn’t resist joining this spirited pup in her snowy escapades.  Laughter echoed from the owners as they watched these pups play freely in the snow; running, jumping, diving and chasing each other until they could run no more.  At last, falling into the snow to take a break and cool down.  

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow on the snow-covered ground and trees, Tashmoo and her neighbor pal panted happily.  Owners leashed their pups, patting their fur as if to acknowledge their fun. The pups wagged their tails in what seemed like an expression of gratitude for the impromptu playtime. Humans and pups bid a farewell and headed for home, leaving behind the tapestry of paw prints and joyful imprints in the snow.

Mr. Petrella- The Lost Journal

There is a marble journal.

I lost it one day. 

I don't know when. 

Covered with faded black construction paper,

decorated with thin purple paper triangles.

Wrapped tight with clear contact paper.

There is a green ribbon in the middle.

Waiting for me to return

it keeps my place.

The journal has been gone for years,

but I still look

hoping it will appear.

It is full of memories.

I can remember pieces

but not all.

I imagine the day I find it.

Mrs. Burg: Late December Morning

Dark gray clouds scattered across the sky

Huge puddles covering the deck

Drops of rain continue to softly tap at the window

I am the only one awake 

On this late December morning

I tiptoe to our old, worn leather sofa

I sink deeply into its cushions

This is my spot

It fits me like a glove

The Christmas tree lights illuminate the room

The angel, her wings delicately touching the ceiling,

looks down upon me 

The collection of ornaments covering the branches 

represent a lifetime of memories 

My favorite 25 year old mug rests comfortably in my hand

So loved I can barely see the floral pattern 

she wore so proudly in her early years

Freshly brewed coffee, with just the right amount of french vanilla creamer stirred in

Warms me from the inside out

The soft purring of my calico kitty, lying on top of the sofa cushion next to my head

Book in hand, plush blanket draped across my lap

My inner thoughts are unusually quiet and peaceful this morning

Is it possible that there is literally nothing on my “to do list” today?

What day is it anyway?

I smile and think of my two beautiful girls 

sound asleep upstairs 

I think of the joy that filled this room 

and the colorful wrapping paper and ribbons that covered this rug 

just a few days ago

I stare for a moment at the candle that smells like Christmas 

as it flickers in front of the twinkling tree lights

How do they even make a candle that actually smells like Christmas??

I try to freeze this moment in my mind

These sounds, these images, these smells

I attempt to savor this feeling of peace and calm 

And pull it deep within my soul

Hoping I can close my eyes and relive this moment again

one day soon

when “real life” resumes

Thank you late December morning

For being there when I needed you most