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Doll Clothes and Surgeries

      My mom's been struggling with her emotions lately. She, as I've mentioned in previous blogs, has recently returned from an almost six-month stint in a rehabilitation center; she has a broken hip and limited mobility. She is angry and frustrated and feels as if she's lost control of her life.     My niece is coming over tomorrow, and she's a little nervous because she hasn't seen my mom since October, so I suggested, since my niece is really into dolls, that my mom show my niece some of the miniature doll clothes that she used to play with in the 1950s. I thought this would be a good way to break the ice.      While rummaging around in the closet, I found what I thought was a hat box with winter scenes imprinted on it, but was actually an old sewing box which began to crumble under my fingers as I carried it carefully down the stairs and into my mom's room. She took off the lid, and inside was another small sewing box, but this one was covered with flowers.

Roller Boogie

     My niece, my sister, and I went to United Skates for a girls' night out. For my sister and me, it was a much need night out. For my niece, it was her first time on skates, solo, and her first time at a roller rink.      My sister and I learned to roller skate from our Dad and from the big kids in the neighborhood. We took to roller skating like ducks to water. Our parents' basement was unfinished, and that smooth, gray cement was just perfect for roller skating. We raided our Dad's record collection, stacked the spindle, put the needle on the record, and raced around the basement roller dancing, twirling, and criss-crossing our feet. My sister loved to listen to Elton John's Crocodile Rock . She'd move the needle to the groove for the song over and over. Little Willie Willie Won't Go was another one of her favorite songs. I have no idea who sang it, but it made her so happy.      We'd spend hours down in the basement, skating and singing and being silly

The Mother Lode

 My mom is home.  She came home last week.  I am trying to be positive, but the situation has been, well, trying.  She has a broken hip and is wheelchair bound.  She's been out of the house since October, with the exception of her coming home for three days in January when she fell, and was sent back to the hospital and then to a rehabilitation center.  And now she's home.  I don't really know what else to say. 

Spring: A Haiku

    Shoots of palest green     stretch after their winter's nap     Robins chirp welcome!      

Newbery Medals and Memories

      When I was a little girl, the Scholastic Book Fairs were open both during the school day, and during the evenings for the parent-teacher conferences. The silver cases were carefully spaced in a prime spot in the lobby of Brookhaven Elementary School, their doors were open arms full of brightly colored books.      I loved browsing the book fair, both during the day and in the evening. My dad's work day was long, with a daily commute to and from Queens, so my mom had to drag all four us to the conferences. We were threatened within an inch of our lives to be on our best behavior during the conferences- especially since we were left in the hallway while she met with our teachers. I still don't know how my mom managed to handle four different teachers in three different grade levels (my brothers are twins) over the course of one night; she never took notes, yet remembered everything the teachers said about each of us, and was able to pull up specific examples of our work to p

From Complaints to A Compliment

     My seventh graders just finished reading Linda Sue Park's novel, A Long Walk to Water . Due to this year's unique teaching situation, my co-teachers and I decided to read the book aloud to the students rather than assign them chapters to read independently. The kiddos do not have a good history of completing work independently, especially on the days when they were learning from home.      So, we read the book aloud five times a day for the past few weeks. I took periods once, three, and nine. I have two inclusion sections, so my co-teachers graciously volunteered to read aloud during periods four and eight.      I've been teaching seventh grade almost twenty years, and the thing about seventh grade is that they love to complain. They complain about the writing we do, the poem we're reading, the book we're studying, the grammar we're learning. So, of course, they complained about the book: It's boring. Why is Nya here? Can't we just take a nap? Why

An Iflue- What?

     "So the newspaper said something about a JoJo Siwa person and that she is an influencer. What's an  influencer?"     "An influencer is someone, usually young, who uses social media to influence their followers."      "Influence how?"     "Convince them to buy things, to go on vacation, to eat at restaurants-it's a way of advertising."      "Do these influencer people make a lot of money?"     "Yes, they can make a ton of money, and they get tons of free stuff depending on how many followers they have."      "Followers? Like a cult?"     "Not exactly like a cult, but sort of. A person can set up an account on a social media site like Instagram or Tik ToK, and they get people to follow them. The more people who see, comment, and share their pictures or content, the more money the influencer can make. They can get more free stuff, too."      "Do the followers get paid?"      "No- ju