Tag: thinking deeply

9/11/20 and the Country Crumbles Around Us, Again

Posted on September 11, 2020 by

Nineteen years ago I sat at this same desk, looking out this same window. I still get up at the same early hour, teach the same grade level, same subject. I still don’t watch the morning news, but now in 2020 it’s for vastly different reasons.

I have the same husband, same children, and even the same hair color – although, after the last six months living through the pandemic, it’s definitely showing signs of grey, appropriately matching the smoke in my California sky. and the emotions in my heart.

Sameness.

Nineteen years ago we realized that the world would never be the same – not for those of us living through the attack on the World Trade Center.

The attack on our citizens in our own country.

The attack on our sense of security.

In 2001, I still woke early – but then it was to find some ‘me’ time before my babies greeted the day and my focus shifted. Today, my babies are adults, living in some other house, in some other states.

In 2001, I’d never even visited New York, I had trouble imagining visiting many places with a three-year-old, a 23-month-old, a full-time teaching job, and just, life. Today in 2020, I imagine visiting my 24-year-old and my 21-year-old on Zoom, in between teaching virtual classrooms and a pandemic.

Now, in retrospect, I’m glad I made it to New York before 2020, before the idea of getting on a plane terrified me – not because I fear dying from more acts of terrorism like 9/11, but because I fear dying from the terror of COVID-19.

I fear never seeing those places I dream of visiting, those places that just six months ago awaited exploration and checking off my bucket list.

Did any of us ever imagine there could be a horror greater than 9/11 in our country? That more people would die in a week, a day, of a disease that COULD HAVE BEEN PREVENTED, than died on September 11, 2001?

Today, September 11, 2020, I’ll stay safe inside my house. I’ll still look out the same windows, still listen to the morning news, still prepare to teach 7th grade English, just like on September 11, 2001.

Today, though, I’ll stay safe from COVID and wildfires. I’ll look out at smoke and ask swirling outside my window, listen to the morning news not about unbelievable loss in New York City but this year, unbelievable loss across our country and our world.

I’ll still prepare to teach 7th grade English, but this year it will be from my ‘classroom’ down the hall, in front of a camera, unable to hug and comfort and look into the eyes of my students. This year, I’ll teach them how I’ll never forget that September 11 morning in my classroom with students. I’ll share with them how shocked and scared and silent we all were, wondering what would happen next.

But still, just like 9/11/2001, I’ll smile and still remind students that I’m there for them, to be a stable adult for them amidst the chaos, just like I did nineteen years ago.

Not at all like September 11, 2001 – but why do I feel the same sense of overwhelming sadness, anxiety, and fear for my children? For our country?

What follows is a re-posting of my 9/11 reflection, written nine years ago – before the country crumbled once again before my eyes. Back in 2011, when the comfort of a decade of healing gave me a little bit of room to breathe. Then, looking back when an ordinary day was something we dreamed about.

Still, the same.

It may never be an ordinary day again. But now, in 2020, for vastly different reasons.

9/11: It started like any ordinary day. 

  After maternity leave, I’m still getting the hang of getting out of the house on time each morning. I’m up early enough to have some ‘me’ time – 5:30 a.m. – before the pitter patter of my 23-month-old boy’s feet signal the start of mommy-time. 

Must plan Cameron’s birthday party for next weekend, I think.Coffee made, candles lit, I start up the desktop as part of my morning ritual, eager to check email and read the news.   Having children broke us of our TV news habit when we realized they were transfixed with images of stark reality we were trying so desperately to shelter them from.  

  A breaking news alert flashes into my inbox – “Plane crashes into building in New York.”  Hmm.  I’ve never been to New York.  Worlds away from my cozy study.  I hope it’s nothing serious.   Pitter patter pitter patter…here comes my boy, blankie, and book in hand.  My heart thrills at the sight of his big round head.  “Make sister juice,” he chimes with a smile as big as any Cheshire cat. 

I switch off the computer, eager to start the morning snuggle and reading time.  It is just another ordinary day.   The 11-mile commute to school is nothing unusual.  I drive past the harvested tomato fields, crop dusters skim the highway.  Lesson plans fill my mind.  Exit right, then left, then straight down the walnut tree-shrouded road towards Douglass Junior High, where my 7th grade English students stand lined up, waiting for me.  

“Hey, did you hear about the plane crash?” they shout as I open the door.  

“Yes, I did,” I answer, and switch on the lights.  “Let’s get started.”  

“But, can’t we watch the TV?  I have an aunt that lives in New York, and I’m worried,” a child pleads.  

“TV?  When do we ever watch TV in class?” I respond with a smile.   ‘Let’s get started – it’s grammar day everyone’s favorite!”  

Moments later, an announcement is delivered by a TA telling us the grim news.  Not one plane crash, now it’s two.  What???  The Pentagon?  Three planes?  Buildings collapsed?  People dying?  But it’s just an ordinary day!  

Why don’t I have my cell phone?  This ancient classroom has no Internet; the only technology is the old TV mounted in the corner of the classroom. 

Where are my babies? Did Lily make it to kindergarten?  What the hell is going on? I want to go home…  

Thoughts flash through my head as I try to process what to do.  Thirty sets of eyes stare at me, searching for comfort.  I’m the teacher.  I’m in charge.  I know what to do? 

Frantic thoughts of my own children race through my mind.  Are they OK?  What will happen to us?  Are the terrorists on their way?  

Then I realize-someone is taking care of my children, just as I’m taking care of someone else’s.  I know what to do.  They need me to make sense of it.  That’s what I would want my child’s teacher to do. 

Reluctantly, yet desperately, I turn on the TV.  I have to know. I can’t wait all day.  

After two hours, no word from my family, I switch it off.  Business as usual – that’s what educators do.  Keep them calm, keep them busy.  I know it’s only going to get worse, and it’s only 10 a.m.   Two more hours and I’m done. 

As I jump in my little gold Escort wagon, I’ve never been so relieved to only work part-time; 11 miles fly by-not enough time to decide how to explain the unexplainable to my 5-year-old.  The radio news drones on and on.  Thousands dead.  The children.  The mommies and daddies who will never commute home again.  The parents who will never see their babies again.  The young people who will never have the joy of holding their child in their arms. 

It’s more than I can bear.  The tears stream down my face as I safely reach home.  It’s clearly not just an ordinary day.  

‘Mommy, why are you sad?  What happened at school today?” Lily whispers, her big blue eyes boring into mine.  How do I answer?  She’s only four.  Far too young to have to learn about such horrors. 

I tell her a story about a plane crashing and good guys trying to stop the bad guys. “Did the bad guy go to jail?” she questions.  

“No, he died,” I reply, choking back tears at her innocence.

“I’m sorry he died, Mommy.  But I’m glad that we weren’t on that plane.”  

“Me too, baby.  Me, too.” 

I realize it may never be an ordinary day again.

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Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Best Books of 2019

Posted on February 16, 2020 by

I had intended to create a ‘Best Books of 2019’ every quarter or so, mainly to share my joy of reading and create a community of readers here and in my social media channels.

It started off OK-I got this I post done with the first chunk of 2019’s reading.

And then the year just sort of exploded – in some ways great, with lots of new professional opportunities (hello AVID Staff Developers!) and others personally challenging (saying goodbye to my dad).

But books were my constant companions, even if I wasn’t sharing. In fact, I met and exceeded my Goodreads challenge despite all the turmoil and turnover in my little part of the world.

So today I’m sharing the books that made a difference to me, the books that were by my side, and the books that you may enjoy, too, as 2020 challenges us to move forward. I’d love to hear your feedback on what you’ve read, what you’re reading now, and also follow you on Goodreads. You can find me on Goodreads here.

A Year of Daily Gratitude: A Guided Journal for Creating Thankfulness Every Day by Lorraine Miller

A Short Guide to a Happy Life by Anna Quindlen

Owls and Other Fantasies: Poems and Essays by Mary Oliver

The EduProtocol Field Guide: Book 2: 12 New Lesson Frames for Even More Engagement by Marlena Hebert and John Corippo

The Storyteller’s Secret by Sejal Badani

180 Days: Two Teachers and the Quest to Engage and Empower Adolescents by Kelly Gallagher

Educated by Tara Westover

The Gift of Failure: How the Best Parents Learn to Let Go So Their Children Can Succeed by Jessica Lahey

City of Girls by Elizabeth Gilbert

Rising Strong by Brene Brown

The Miracle Morning for Writers by Hal Elrod

DON’T Ditch That Tech:Differentiated Instruction in a Digital World by Matt Miller

Donna Has Left The Building by Susan Jane Gilman

The Designer by Marius Gabriel

The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo

We Were The Lucky Ones by Georgia Hunter

The Woman in the Window by A.J. Finn

Matchmaking for Beginners by Maddie Dawson

The Orphan’s Tale by Pam Jenoff

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin

A Place For Us by Fatima Farheen Miriam

The Leavers by Lisa Ko

The Lost Girls of Paris by Pam Jenoff

Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens

Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok

The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah

The Rules of Magic by Alice Hoffman

Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward

Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Almost Everything: Notes on Hope by Anne Lamott

I read 62 books in 2019, and have set my goal for 70 this year. I’m six in…one book behind schedule.

Reflecting on my book choices in 2019 I noticed I pushed myself out of familiar genres. I hope that these titles spark some interest for you, and you find (and share) your favorites. I always love talking books – find me here, or on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter – @mamawolfeto2!

Happy reading, everyone! And remember, ‘You can’t buy happiness but you can buy (or borrow) books, and that’s kind of the same thing.”

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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taste of Twitter

A Taste of Twitter – Tweets To Think About: July 2019

Posted on July 19, 2019 by

I spend a great deal of time online – professionally more than personally. As my children grow up and away from home, it’s not my place to post photos of what’s going on in their life. The empty nest does that. It’s ok – just because I’m spending less time on the ‘social’ part of social networking doesn’t mean I’m not finding value in my interactions. I’ve created a spectacular PLN of thinkers, educators, creators, and do-ers online, specifically based on Twitter interactions.

I stay away from toxic Twitter accounts. I ‘THINK before I POST’. I try to share my joy in thinking deeply, loving fiercely and teaching audaciously and enjoy the interactions I have. I’ve tried to convince my non-Twitter educator friends and acquaintances to jump in, but many are afraid to, or reluctant to, or just haven’t seen the value of virtual collaboration – YET.

Wow – that decade went by FAST!!!

Ten years of tweets…so I decided to bring a taste of Twitter to YOU! Consider this like a sampler platter, or an appetizer. You’ll see through my lens, and hopefully, we’ll have a dialogue here (or online) and collaborate to share our loves for teaching, learning, writing, and parenting.

So let’s have some fun and share some joy – below I’m adding some of my most favorite, recent tweets to think about – I’d love to hear your voice, too!

On loving fiercely:

On teaching audaciously:

On thinking deeply:

A ‘Taste of Twitter’ Wrap up

I hope you enjoyed this quick “taste of Twitter” – please join me on Twitter @mamawolfeto2, or my second favorite social platform, Instagram @mamawolfeto2. If you’re already on Twitter, leave your handle in the comments so we can grow together. Let’s share some joy about thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously!

~Jennifer

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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clutter memories

The ‘Clutter-Be-Gone’ Mindset

Posted on March 30, 2019 by

What is your relationship to clutter?

Clutter isn’t just about what’s stuffed into corners of your bookshelves, or trampled on the floor of your closed. It’s not only about organizing drawers or giving the garage a super-good clean out. Really, that kind of physical clutter is pretty simple to deal with. You either get rid of it, or you shove it away.

It’s the ‘clutter-be-gone’ mindset that I’ve always found much more challenging. The ‘clutter-be-gone’ mindset is haunting me now that there’s just two of us living in this house created for four.

I have plenty of ‘belongings’, to be sure. Just ask my kids about all the sizes of diapers I kept (unused, of course) or the various locks of hair, baby socks, art projects, cute notes, Lego sculptures…you get the idea. I read Julie Morgenstern’s book Organizing From The Inside Out a long time ago (it was published in 1998!). At the time, I was struggling with the idea of keeping a home organized now that two babies had moved in. When I read, “Being organized has less to do with the way an environment looks than how effectively it functions. If a person can find what he or she needs when he or she needs it, feels unencumbered in achieving his or her goals, and is happy in his or her space, then that person is well organized.”

That was so liberating for me!

My sentimental nature would obviously lead me to keep more than the average mom, but according to Julie, that’s OK!

So I cruised along, trying to keep up with photo albums (the analog kind), journals, school report cards, samples of my kids’ writing, birthday cards…. high school graduation cards…college acceptance letters…college graduation announcements…until suddenly, the nest is empty but the rooms are still full and then, gradually at first but then with an urgency building up like a thundercloud, the ‘clutter-be-gone’ mindset is a reality.

There’s no more reason to keep all those Christmas and Valentine’s and Easter decorations, is there? No one’s around to see them. It’s easier if they just stay packed away, along with the memories of when little hands and sticky faces used to reach with trepidation, hoping to grasp the essence of what those days meant to them…

So for my husband’s 52nd birthday, I got him a storage space.

Despite this going against all my de-cluttering tendencies, Julie’s words rang in my ears. You can get it organized, I heard her say. Put the furniture you’ve been saving for the kids in there, clear up space in the garage and create some flow, I imagined her commenting. So I did it, and now the flow should run freely – right?

I’m finding it’s not so easy, that de-cluttering comes in fits and bursts, at just the right time to fill up sacks of worn out linens and kitchen gadgets long since forgotten. It comes, sometimes, with a burst of tears and finishes with collapsing on the bed with a box of cassette tapes from the 1980s, memories banging cacophonously against reality.

There are some days (many days) when I just can’t handle the thought of those moments flooding into today; just the downpour of what was, what I can’t control, what’s not yet happened and maybe never will is more than I can handle on even endless servings of my favorite Sumatra blend.

“Being organized has less to do with the way an environment looks than how effectively it functions,”

I hear her whispering to me. How does it actually function for me these days? How do the memories (aka clutter) fill my mind? Do they keep me from moving forward, or do they PUSH me towards everything I’ve been preparing for the last 53 years?

I think to me, putting yourself in the ‘clutter-be-gone’ mindset means putting on your oxygen mask first. Practicing deep self-care. Spending time in nature, gazing out the window into an oncoming thunderstorm (literal or figurative) or snuggling up with your old dog and gently stroking his ears while he wiggles with pleasure. It means tucking away the memories (literal and figurative) into places in my heart and home where they can lift me up, comfort me, motivate me, and be there to draw on for inspiration moving forward.

In the end, I think I’m OK with my clutter right now. Maybe my kids will be OK with it, too.

Photo by Gabby Orcutt on Unsplash Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash Photo by Thomas Kinto on Unsplash

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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grow

Grow: One Word For 2019

Posted on January 13, 2019 by

Grow is my one word for 2019.

I’m not into resolutions. At all. I’ve broken them far too easily in the past, and I’d guess that most people have failed at one already in 2019 – and we’re only 11 days in!

Resolutions are a setup. We make decisions at a time when we think we’re supposed to change as if what we are already isn’t enough. We think in a scarcity mode – ‘if only …. I had more money’, or ‘if only…I worked out more’, ‘if only…every day at 6:00 a.m. was journal time’.

And then, you miss a day. Or forget what you set out to do and make excuses for yourself. Inevitably, resolutions break when you’re too tired to get off the couch, apply for that new position….you know how it goes.

Five years of words

In 2014, my word was change. I explained my strategy for no resolutions to my son in this post – and he decided on a word for the year, too.

In 2015, I declared an intention to practice courage. It was my first year of living without one of my children at home, and I was kind of a mess.

2016 told me to trust the journey after Cameron skied into a tree and sustained a serious concussion.

I needed/wanted to do less, to focus, to simplify in 2017, so I chose the phrase ‘Be here, now’

And in 2018, I decided I needed to embrace change as I transitioned from partly-full to empty nest.

My one word for 2019

Your mind is like a piece of land planted with many different kinds of seeds: seeds of joy, peace, mindfulness, understanding, and love; seeds of craving, anger, fear, hate, and forgetfulness.

These wholesome and unwholesome seeds are always there, sleeping in the soil of your mind.

The quality of your life depends on the seeds you water. If you plant tomato seeds in your gardens, tomatoes will grow.

Just so, if you water a seed of peace in your mind, peace will grow.

When the seeds of happiness in you are watered, you will become happy.

When the seed of anger in you is watered, you will become angry.

The seeds that are watered frequently are those that will grow strong.

– Thich Nhat Hanh

The quality of my life, of my children’s lives, and the lives of the students in my classroom depends on my ability to grow.

I know what it feels like to not have children at home to care for.

I adjusted to the empty nest, mostly. I’ve now got to transform into my next self. As e.e. cummings said, “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”

Grow. The quality of my life, of my children's lives, and the lives of the students in my classroom depends on my ability to grow.

Change is hard, scary, messy and often, exhilarating. I’m going to grow parts of me that haven’t been watered in a while – or ever.

I’m going to grow peace of mind. Happiness. Adventure. Novelty. Love.

It’s not a resolution. I’m not tracking it on my calendar or measuring my success. To me, my one word means when I’m at a tipping point, or when I feel like I don’t know which way to go, I’ll pause, breathe, and decide to GROW.

I can’t wait to see what happens! What’s your one word for 2019?

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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