Category: Writing Project

My Oak Tree

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike Adventures, Writing Project5 Comments

Saturday morning I pedaled to school to co-facilitate a writing session for teachers.  We always begin with a quick write and Saturday’s prompt went something like this: If you weren’t here, what would you like to be doing instead?

My answer was obvious.  Saturday mornings are for bike rides.  In fact I’d pedaled to class and scheduled a bike ride for the afternoon, too.  There is something peaceful about pedaling out of town.  Away from piles of laundry.  Away from my job.  Away from the noise.  Away from everything except my legs turning the cranks and my heart keeping time.

My favorite place to ride is out to Millville Plains, where the wind whips through the tall grasses in the Fall and the wildflowers paint the fields in the Spring.  Some days, the hands of the wind press against my back and lift me up the hills.  Other days the wind rushes against my face and I am strong enough to climb the crest despite the wind’s advances.

There is an oak tree, a lone oak tree, standing atop the plains.  She is impervious to the wind, snow, sun and anything else nature throws at her.  Oak trees can live to be 200 years old.  In fact the oldest oak tree is 400 years old!  I don’t know how old my tree is, but surely she is the matriarch of the plains.  She’s been there as long as I can remember, the umbrella of her crown a favorite resting place for cows.  In the summer the shadow of her crown provides respite from the harsh sun and in the winter her branches are shelter from the rain.

I ride by the tree, pushing uphill, keeping her trunk in my line of sight.  I think of how I want to be like that tree, impervious to things at work that press against me, threatening to uproot me.  I think about standing tall for the things I believe are best.  Best for children.  Best for teachers.  Best for the world I live in.  When I ride Millville Plains, I can’t help but think of that tree all the way home.

I’ve yet to see my tree this season and still she comes to mind.  As Congress cuts funding for education, I think of my tree and square my shoulders as I type out letters to my elected officials.  They need to hear about how class sizes bursting at the seams create little space for relationships with students.  They need to hear how important the NWP is in creating teacher leaders who empower their students to carve out their own voices on canvases of blank pages.  They need to hear about how the NWP rooted me deep in practices that translate into a beautiful writing community in my classroom, in my school, in my city.

I’m blessed that my oak tree is just a bike ride away.  When I need to be reminded to be strong, to stand up for my beliefs, I visit my tree.  She is always standing proud and tall over the plains.  She compels me to do the same.

LOVE, Part 3

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Teacher Tales, Writing ProjectLeave a comment

When I was a kid we lived near the Rogue River and on sticky summer days my family would head to the river.  My big brother would walk the riverbank filling his pockets with skipping stones.  He’d tromp along picking out the flattest, smoothest rocks and then he’d fling them with a flick of his wrist and they’d dance across the water.  I tried in vain to make my own rocks tiptoe across the water, but I always chose rocks that were too lumpy, too big.  I’d heave them into the water and after a satisfying splash, my rocks would sink to the bottom, the river rippling great rings in their wake.

Enough time has passed since sharing about the LOVE statue with my colleagues that I can look back on it and see beyond my quivering hands holding the paper, beyond stumbling over my own words in a room so quiet that my nervous vibrato seemed to echo off the walls.  When talking with my colleagues, the heart of our conversation was my desire not to miss opportunities to act in love because I was too wrapped up in my own life to notice opportunities that are sometimes quite literally right in front of me.  I talked about how it’s easy, especially this time of year, for me to be caught up in the inertia of my own life.

I mentioned previously that some of my dear colleagues shared what they wrote about what it means to love and that their writing moved me.  Two things that they wrote stand out in particular.

The first is this: love means loving even when that affection is not reciprocated.  The enormity of that statement is something I’ve thought about daily since our time together.  It’s something I struggle to put into practice and by the nods in the room, I’m guessing I wasn’t the only one acknowledging that unsavory part of myself.

The second thing that has stuck with me is what a teacher wrote about compassion.  This teacher lost her husband to cancer last year.  Currently another teacher’s husband is in the same fierce battle.  Through tears in her eyes and over the muffled crying of just about everyone in the room, the first teacher shared about how love means acting with a depth of compassion only birthed by her own loss.  This teacher gets a gold star for bravery.  To write about her loss and how it has changed her and then to share about it in a staff meeting amazed me, amazes me still.

Each day since our staff meeting, teachers have sought me out telling me their stories, telling me about ways they’d acted in love in light of our meeting.  Teachers began doing things like collecting money to help pay for cancer treatments and writing notes of encouragement to their students.  I was delighted by their actions, but the thing that surprised me most and tickled me to my core, was that teachers took additional time outside of the staff meeting to finish the quick write we’d done.  Oh, that our students would experience that compulsion to write!

My experience at the staff meeting harkens back to my memories of throwing rocks into the river.  I threw my rock into the water and my little LOVE story rippled out in beautiful rings.

I’m left thinking then, what if writing in the classroom was like this?  What if more teachers mustered the courage to share their own writing, to talk about big ideas, to use writing as a vehicle for growth, both academic and personal?  I have a feeling that if we looked at the heart of writing as closely as we look at its structure, then profound change would occur.

My family moved away from the Rogue River and into the backyard of the Sacramento River, but I never did master the art of skipping stones.  And I’m okay with that because right now I’m filling my pockets with rocks.  Big, lumpy ones.  Come January, during the first session in a writing series, I’ll start tossing my stones into the water.  This time I hope they won’t skip across the water.  No, I hope they sink down deep and ripple wide.


Reading. Out Loud. To My Colleagues. Gulp.

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Teacher Tales, Writing Project5 Comments

A few days ago my principal asked me to speak to the staff at my school about the National Writing Project conference I attended in Philly.  I thought about what to share.  At first I thought I’d share the hilarious genius of the poet Billy Collins.  Then I thought I’d share about a workshop I attended on writing across subject areas.  Both of those sounded just fine to me, except that another idea kept poking at me, whispering into my ear, disrupting my dreams even.

I felt compelled to share about the LOVE Statue.

I wanted to talk about something bigger than the conventions of writing and instead address the purpose of writing.  To present writing as an expression of feeling, as a call to action, as a response to an experience that changed me.

Oh man, that is not even close to what many people consider in the box of “writing instruction”.  Thankfully my principal is an out of the box kind of guy and when I pitched him my idea, he gave me the okay.

I was honored.  I was excited.  I was terrified.  Talking to my colleagues about my experience would mean reading them something I wrote.  Like, out loud, at the front of the room and stuff.

Gulp.

After fighting back the urge to hurl, I summoned my bravery from the pit of my rolling stomach.  Being a writer means taking the risk to share.  At least that’s what I told myself.

The staff meeting was today and I sat listening to my principal talk about copy machines and new phone systems and all the nuts and bolts that make a school run smoothly.  I tried to listen attentively, but my stomach was aflutter and my heart was hammering.  Then it came time for me to share.  I begged for God to have mercy and take me to Heaven right now.

He did not.  So I stood up and took a deep breath.

I talked a teensy bit about an upcoming writing series I’m co-facilitating and I talked a smidge about the conference and then I read my piece.

My voice shook.  My eyes welled up when I came to the part about being ashamed.  I pushed to the finish and waited for an accordion of groans and a slew of pencils flung at my eyes.  Instead they clapped.  And smiled.  And wiped their eyes.

I talked about the discussion Terry and I had about what it means to act in love, to seek out opportunities to show empathy.  Then, we wrote about what it means to love, about big and small ways we can show love.

That’s right, we wrote as a staff at a staff meeting.  It was a quick write and then I asked for volunteers to share out.  And people actually volunteered.  What they shared was moving and brought a fresh run of tears pricking my eyelashes.

In a time of standards and testing and budget cuts, it was water to my soul hearing about the heart my colleagues have for each other and our students.

At the end of the meeting, seven colleagues signed up for the writing series I’m co-facilitating.  Seven teachers willing to give up time on a Saturday to better themselves as teachers of writing, to better themselves as writers.  I have a beautiful opportunity to discuss within my teaching community the importance and power of writing.

Between now and then, I’m going to dig out my brave face and quell my squeamish stomach in hope that come January we will all be reading our writing out loud to each other.  And I couldn’t be more excited, more honored or more terrified.

LOVE

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Writing Project6 Comments

 

The famous LOVE statue in Philadelphia was not what I’d expected.  The fountain was dried up and the corners of its mouth overflowed with wads of garbage.  I went to see the love piece three different times during my stay in Philadelphia, hoping each time to glimpse the fountain fanning cool sheets of water behind the crimson letters, hoping my meager photographic skills would capture just the right angle, just the right light.

Each click of the camera left me struck by the clusters of homeless men and the occasional homeless woman living in the park so known for its proclamation of love.  They were huddled in masses of faded grays and browns on the park benches and against the corners of statues of somebody historic, I’m sure.  It was not the background I’d hoped for my storybook photo of love.  Some men zipped themselves into sleeping bag cocoons and others flung their words at each other, their anger knifing the air and making me quicken my pace as I walked by.

Writing those words I’m ashamed because that’s what I did.

I just walked by.

I, the pious seeker of the perfect picture of love, just walked by, sometimes with a prickle of fear shimmying down my spine and a look of pity angling down my nose.  Not once did I stop to offer my gloves, or the few dollars wrinkled in my wallet, or the coat that usually hangs stuffed amongst many in my closet.  I went looking for love and I missed it.  I missed it completely.

I dream about the LOVE statue and in my dreams I am the kinder, more compassionate version of myself, the version I wish I was in my waking hours.  In my dreams I cock my head at the same angle as the crooked O atop the E.  I tilt my head and ponder the statue, ponder what it means to really love.  I wake and my neck twinges with pain from all my dreaming.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and desperately hope I don’t miss the opportunity to love again today.

This I Believe: 1-100

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Alicia Writes, The Junk Drawer, Writing Project6 Comments

My husband is the  consummate list maker.  He leaves himself a ‘To Do List’ each day before leaving work.  He delights in listing the best songs, best athletes, best movies, etc.

Me?

I’ve never been a list maker.  I write a grocery list and that’s it.  Even then I always manage to forget to buy at least one thing.

That is until last July when I became aware of a little boy who wrote his 100 beliefs for the 100th day of school.  I don’t agree with all of his beliefs, nor do I expect you to agree with all of mine.  What I do agree with is thinking hard about what I believe.  So I began tapping away at the keyboard, writing my own beliefs one line at a time.

The first thirty or so were easy, jumbling out in a quick rush.  The next thirty took some time, appearing in handfuls and pairs.  The last forty took, well, months.  I’d write one every once in a while, sometimes stopping at the words ‘I believe’ followed by bouts of blank staring.

I found myself deleting beliefs if my actions did not align with the words.  If I wasn’t living something, how could I claim to believe it?  On days when I was the better version of myself, instead of deleting the belief, I’d delete the action that didn’t fit.

I typed and then erased duplicates, relieved to know that I believed something at least enough to think of it on more than one occasion.

I carried this project with me and found my beliefs in the most unexpected places.  In the car, in the shower, on airplanes, on the couch, in my classroom, in the grocery store, in bathrooms, in dreams, in waiting rooms, and even on the playground.  I’d scavenge the depths of my purse for an old receipt and a pen, scratching out my beliefs at stoplights and checkstands.  I’d leave them on my answering machine and scrawl fragments in my bedside notebook.

Four months and 100 beliefs later, I’m surprised and content in the knowledge that there is so much to believe in.

Here is my list.

Read it.  Curse it.  Applaud it.

Whatever your reaction, when you reach the end, sit down and start a list of your own.  Discover yourself in the most unexpected places.  Discover unexpected parts of you in the most regular of places.  It will impact your life in compelling ways.  This I believe.

This I Believe

1) I believe God is good.

2) I believe my husband’s love is real.

3) I believe the written word is a living, powerful thing.

4) I believe truth is truth and it cannot be manipulated or changed.

5) I believe all people have the capacity to love.

6) I believe all people can learn.

7) I believe in the sanctity of marriage.

8. I believe in being a good steward of the planet.

9) I believe people should read every day.

10) I believe riding my bike helps me see beauty.

11) I believe I am responsible for helping the sick.

12) I believe in protecting children.

13) I believe in honesty.

14) I believe that time is my most valuable resource.

15) I believe I am a writer.

16) I believe in actively seeking peace.

17) I believe in thinking before speaking.

18) I believe in healing.

19) I believe people should smile at each other more often.

20) I believe in equality.

21) I believe that each day is precious.

22) I believe people should own fewer things.

23) I believe in buying books.

24) I believe people should go outside more.

25) I believe there are a lot of good books waiting to be written.

26) I believe in miracles.

27) I believe in Heaven and Hell.

28) I believe giving is better than receiving.

29) I believe that a drink of clean water helps almost everything.

30) I believe in saying what I mean and meaning what I say.

31) I believe life is full of humor.

32) I believe in taking naps.

33) I believe in being organized.

34) I believe joy comes in the morning.

35) I believe alcohol and tobacco are drugs.

36) I believe in examining the heart of my desires, instead of examining the desires of my heart.

37) I believe in focusing less on being right and more on doing good.

38) I believe playtime is important.

39) I believe in strength of heart.

40) I believe in eating with friends.

41) I believe age is just a number.

42) I believe God created the universe.

43) I believe home cooked is better than store-bought.

44) I believe in buying produce from the Farmers Market.

45) I believe in the underdog.

46) I believe the taking of life is the responsibility of God, not of man.

47) I believe people should not own guns.

48) I believe the Bible is the Word of God.

49) I believe in living drug free.

50) I believe “Thank you.” is a valid response to “I love you.”

51) I believe everyone has a story.

52) I believe love is a choice.

53) I believe the Holy Spirit lives in me.

54) I believe prayer is a conversation with God.

55) I believe some weeds are more beautiful than flowers.

56) I believe death is not the end.

57) I believe I am called to teach.

58) I believe breast milk is baby’s best first food.

59) I believe in laughing often.

60) I believe the book is usually better than the movie.

61) I believe in right and wrong.

62) I believe yelling never helps reach a resolution.

63) I believe anger can be a catalyst for change.

64) I believe a fetus is a baby and a baby is a life.

65) I believe in singing every day.

66) I believe joy is independent of circumstance.

67) I believe in staying up late and sleeping in during the summer.

68) I believe cuddling under a blanket is better than turning on the heater.

69) I believe in angels.

70) I believe in sharing ideas.

71) I believe I have a lot to learn.

72) I believe people should focus less on looking for the right person and more on being the right person.

73) I believe parenting is the most difficult and most important job.

74) I believe in asking questions.

75) I believe grief has many faces.

76) I believe my actions can help or harm and the choice is mine.

77) I believe ability is the most important part of ‘disability’.

78) I believe I have not been given a spirit of fear,

79) I believe in delegating.

80) I believe I am an important part of my community.

81) I believe in daily quiet time.

82) I believe children should be taught big concepts and big words.

83) I believe in voting.

84) I believe truth is stranger than fiction and also much easier to write!

85) I believe people should travel as often as possible.

86) I believe in gathering stories from previous generations.

87) I believe research is critical in pre-writing.

88) I believe taking a deep breath is good in all circumstances.

89) I believe in writing small.

90) I believe a good cry is necessary sometimes.

91) I believe in tithing.

92) I believe people who are unhappy at work should change jobs or change their attitude.

93) I believe worship is in daily life.

94) I believe my marital vows.

95) I believe healthcare is a basic human right.

96) I believe actions speak louder than words.

97) I believe God still speaks through visions and dreams.

98) I believe depression is an illness.

99) I believe great generosity begets rich blessing.

100) I believe my life is a gift.