Category: Alicia Writes

Book Lovers

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Teacher Tales1 Comment

After school is one of my favorite times of the day.  I reflect on the happenings of the day and prepare for tomorrow.  At the end of the day I’m usually accompanied by a handful of my students from after school care.  They help sharpen pencils, organize books, clean the boards, and do any other job that garners special teacher time.

As my mom prepares to retire this year, she is passing on many of her materials to me.  This past week, I carted an overflowing box of her old books to my room and called on my little after school helpers to put them in the correct book tubs.

One of my little boys stood next to a tower of books.  He fingered each one with care and would often exclaim “Oh, Mrs. McCauley, I remember when you read us this one.  I love this book!”  As beloved stories passed through his hands, he recounted the precise time of year I’d read it to the class and something he remembered from the story.  If a book was new to him, he would stop what he was doing, plop down on the carpet, and a read a few pages.  About half an hour into this process, he asked “Mrs. McCauley, have you read all of the books in our class library?”  I smiled.  “No, not all, but I’ve read most of them.  I read many of them when I was little like you.”  He sighed “I love reading.”  I smiled “I know you do.  I do, too.”

Part of creating closure to the year is helping my students understand that when they move to second grade the current kindergarteners will be first graders.  So during the last week of school we write letters to the new first graders and prepare the classroom for them.  Today each student cleaned out their book box and placed easy readers in the boxes for next year.  As they put the books in their boxes, I heard things like “Oh, I loved this book!”  and “Mrs. McCauley, I remember when this book seemed really big and hard, but it’s so easy now!”  I smiled pleased that we had a moment together to reflect on how they’d grown as learners.

I’ve got a stack of books waiting for me this summer.  I can’t wait to sit back and dive in.  And as I do, I will smile knowing that my little book lovers are probably doing the same.

What I Would Say to Cancer

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike AdventuresLeave a comment

For the past three years, preparing for a century ride has become a natural part of my life.  Cycling season is as real to me as winter, spring, summer and fall.  I think daily about cycling.  Routes to try, weather conditions, jerseys to wash, pedals to tighten, miles to log, hills to climb.  Since a large chunk of my limited brain space is occupied by all things bike, it’s ironic to me that I don’t often think about the big picture.

This year I’m riding for The Lance Armstrong Foundation as a member of Team Fatty.  Actually our full name is Team Fatty: Fighting For Susan.  Susan is the wife of Fat Cyclist.  Fat Cyclist doesn’t have the luxury of forgetting the big picture because Susan, a mother of four, is in the fight of her life against cancer.  She is has battled cancer before and it’s back for more.  Previously I understood that riding my bike and raising money to cure cancer is important, but I didn’t fully get it until I watched this clip, What I Would Say to Cancer.  Here’s what I’d say to cancer:

You have taken too many children long before it was their time.  You leave mothers with drawers full of onesies fresh with the scent of baby.  You have taken mothers  leaving children longing to hear just one more bedtime story snuggled in the crook of their mommy’s neck.  You have taken fathers, leaving daughters to walk the aisle alone on their wedding day.  You have taken husbands and wives, leaving one side of the bed cold.

Here’s the worst part of you, cancer, you’re greedy.  When you can’t take a life, you take whatever you can.  You are a sneaky thief, taking lungs, breasts, brains, limbs and other parts that don’t belong to you.  You have no conscience, no heart.

But I do.  In fact, I’ve been told that my heart is freakishly strong and you can’t take that away.  So, for all my loved ones and loved ones of my loved ones who have battled cancer, I’m pulling on my Spandex, swinging my leg over the crossbar of my bike and getting ready to ride 100 miles.  I could go on, but I won’t because each pedal stroke is my answer to you, cancer, and I’m going to keep on pedaling until you get what I’m saying.

Funny Money

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Teacher TalesLeave a comment

It was one of those days.  Rainy day recess created the perfect storm of too much energy and not enough paying attention.  Lunch was a welcome break.  After some grown up conversation and deep breathing, I trudged back to my room, fingers crossed that the yard duty would give me a good report.  She approached.  I cringed.

“Your class is sweet.” she said.

“Yes, they are.”  I said, reminding myself.

“They adore you.”

“It’s mutual.”  I chirped.

Even on bumpy days I could still say that with one hundred percent sincerity.  I do have the best job in the world and my time with these little ones is coming to an end quickly.   All rainy day toys were put away and my students were in their seats ready for the read aloud.  As I walked to the front of the class, several students piped up

“We made something for you.”

“What did you make?”

“We made you money.”

“Oh, wow.  That’s a lot of money.  I’ll go put it in my purse.  I’m going to Costco today.  Do you think I can pay with this?”

“No, Mrs. McCauley, it’s funny money.”

“Why did you make me all this money?”

“It’s teacher week and you don’t get paid enough.”

Classroom books from the book fair: $73.

The pair of shoes I ruined yesterday on our field trip to the creek: $29.

Getting a raise from my students: priceless.

Shy Girl Magma

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Writing ProjectLeave a comment

Growing up I was painfully shy.  I walked to class with my head down, fearful of making eye contact with anyone.

On my way to Mrs. Johannsen’s second grade, I ran smack into a pole because I refused to look up.

In third grade I cried and cried when my mom informed me that if I wanted people to come to my birthday party, I’d have to call them myself.  Actually talk to people and ask them to come over?  NO WAY.

I was even placed in a club for social spazzes.  It was called The Garfield Club, named after the famous lasagna lovin’ comic cat.  I know, so nerdy.

I survived junior high and my shyness lessened in high school.  My immediate circle of friends was a conglomeration of AP geeks and music nerds, but I was also able to come and go as I pleased amongst other groups.  This shy girl had somehow become friend to all and nobody was more surprised than me.

As an adult, my shyness lies dormant ninety-eight percent of the time, leaving two percent of the time for it to explode in spurts.  Last Saturday I zipped down to Chico for the Northern California Writing Project Summer Institute Orientation.  (Wow, that’s a mouthful.)  I absolutely loved the Summer Institute last year.  It changed who I am as a teacher in powerful and exciting ways.  I was thrilled to be accepted again this year.

And yet my stomach was boiling with nerves.  I would be in a roomful of people.  People I didn’t know.  People I’d have to talk to.  As I closed in on Chico, my nerves threatened to erupt and spew bits of shy girl magma all over my car.  Walking upstairs to the classroom, my upper lip dotted itself with sweat beads. Entering the room, I said hello to one of the directors and made a beeline for a desk without neighbors on either side.  I sat there for a moment, looking around at the other participants.  All of them had their noses buried in the folder of handouts.  The singular noise was the shuffling of papers.  This is ridiculous, I thought.

So, I made a bold move.  I gathered up my stuff and plopped down in a desk between two women.  Then I made an even bolder move.  I introduced myself and asked where they were from.  Somehow my lava flow of shyness had cooled and crystallized into a coherent mass of functioning social skills.  The sweat beads dried up as we chatted.  I found out that the woman two seats to my left is one of my mom’s colleagues.  And in a surprising turn of events, the woman two seats to my right is training for the Tahoe century ride.  By the end of the day, I’d managed to find myself a carpool buddy and a cycling companion.

In addition to being welcomed back to the Summer Institute, I was also selected to attend a writing retreat at a spa/resort in Arizona.  In July I’ll spend four days writing, learning about writing, thinking about writing, and reading about writing.  It sounds heavenly.

Except for the fact that I will be surrounded by people I don’t know.  People I’ll have to make eye contact with.  People I’ll have to actually talk to.  I can feel the deep rumblings of my shyness already.  The only thing that will save me is also the cause of the rumblings.  Upon arrival I will have to make eye contact, maybe even shake a hand or two and utter the most terrifying word in the English language.  That’s right, I’ll have to say hello.  Either that or I can die in an extravasation of sweat and molten timidity.

Right now it’s a toss up.

Summer Top Ten

On By Alicia McCauleyIn The Junk DrawerLeave a comment

It’s late at night and Letterman is on, so, here we go Top Ten style.

The Top Ten Reasons I’m Giddy For Summer

10.  I’m hoping to re-vamp my backyard a little bit so it feels more like an oasis and less like a slab of cement surrounded by dead plants.

9.  I’m heading to the NCWP Summer Institute again.  That means new ideas, new people, and time to reflect on my practice as a teacher.  Not to mention regular doses of Jon & Bon’s frozen yogurt.  Mmmmmm…

8.  After two weeks at the Institute, Terry and I head to Alaska with four of our friends.  We will mountain bike to justify eating unholy quantities of delicious food.  Then we’ll take a zipline ride and throw it all up.

7.  Fourth of July will announce that it’s birthday week for Terry and I.  I heart fireworks.

6.  On my birthday I head to Southern California to hang out with a few hundred of my favorite high schoolers, not to mention some of my dearest friends at Western States.

5.  I fly from Southern California to San Jose where I will meet up with Terry and The Rocket to ride 100 miles and show cancer exactly what I think of it.

4.  A few days later I fly to Arizona to participate in The Writing Project’s National Retreat where I will soak up as much knowledge as I can in hopes that this bear of little brain can retain some of it.

3.  Five of my nieces and nephews will be spending a month in Redding.  I can’t wait to squeeze, kiss and snuggle them all, especially the boys who pretend to hate all that mushy love stuff.  Deep down they love it.  Deep, deep down.

2.  In August I’ll sit down for a second in my new and improved oasis, surrounded by dead plants, and laugh at the fact that I’ve once again failed to cure my brown thumb.

1.  Terry and I will celebrate another year together.  The best compliment I’ve ever received came in the form of two little words: I do.  The fact that he still does makes my heart full.