Nulla dies sine linea--Red Cedar Writing Project 2014--The Wobble

Perhaps the hardest thing about being a teacher is to remember what it is like to be a student, and then also, to remember to embrace that discomfort. Janet Swenson and Dawn Reed, co-directors of the Red Cedar Writing Project 2014 (Michigan State University) call it the "wobble"--that point where you are stretched just beyond your balance where you "wobble" as your mind and body regain solid footing again. Learning is like that, and writing is a constant state of wobbling--just moving the pen, or the fingers on the keyboard, crossing out words to choose better ones, deleting entire paragraphs to banish poorly crafted paragraphs for new, and enhanced, selections. 

Our writing cohort chose a Latin phrase to represent us this year, even though any one of a dozen quotes could have easily been selected. The phrase--Nulla dies sine linea--means "no day without a line." 

As a writer, this is the point of wobble. It is the simple act of deciding to write. As a teacher, this must be the target of my practice. Students cannot improve without the daily practice of writing. As a leader, this is the journey of our ink. The proof of promising practices is in the form of successful, engaging lessons where our students do more than finish assignments--they produce quality work, inspired by their own lives. As John Quincy Adams once said, "If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more and become more, you are a leader." 

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Final reflection: 

Finally the last day before the last day of the Red Cedar Writing Project arrives. It is apparent that Sacred Writing Time has had a profound affect on me. I did not realize how necessary exploring my own memories, thoughts, and curiousities was to my well-being. I better understand the task before my students by being a student too. Indeed, I also tremendously enjoyed the opportunity to share with others in my Writing Group and to have an audience respond to my words, offer feedback, and support my pen. 


It was fabulous to have teachers teaching one another. While it was a bit nerve-wrecking to stand before my peers, it was incredible to see the talent and try out new teaching ideas from the seat of a student. I often found my brain pulsating with the possiblities of how I could incorporate these new ideas and teaching appoaches into my own classroom. Each demonstration pushed my thinking about my own practice and how I could improve it. 


The Log Reports were amazing displays of risk-taking! We were mental ninja warriors climbing the salmon ladder! As Rachel said, "We proved that there is no ceiling." Digital story formats, video applications, infographics, game shows, sock monkeys, poetry,  and more were exciting to view, and again, provided real-life application for future student learning opportunities. 


The connections I made to our readings were practical, purposeful, and filled with potential. Some of the connections were personal to me as a writer, others were applicable to my classroom and life as "teacher" while still others presented opportunities as a leader in my school, and beyond. Highlighted passages in fuschia and lime-green sticky notes are guideposts to lure me back for future inspiration or direction. It was beneficial to sit with others, pour over text, pull out thoughts, and make further learning links. 


Finally, I found it profound to really capture and crystalize the ideas related to leadership within my school. While I will more purposefully create lessons that check more boxes within the Habits of Mind and the Elements of Effective Instruction, I will also work to weave these concepts into future curriculum talks in order to impact students beyond my classroom walls. 

The Salmon Ladder challenge is a metaphor for the risk-taking our cohort took in relation to the integration of technology. As our Rachel from our cohort said, "We proved there is no ceiling!" 

sonder  from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows
  n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.