Author Archives: Danielle

NaNoWriMo ’23 with Mrs. Always Wright

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I did not forc- I mean – encourage my students to take part last year and regretted it the entire month. This time, I have such a group of writers I simply couldn’t pass on the opportunity.

I have two blocks of 7th grade Honors ELAR this year, and this is the perfect side project for them. They have the first 10 minutes of class to write (in lieu of a warm-up), and can choose to add to their word counts as early finisher work or outside of class time.

I told them that they can write ANYTHING they want (school appropriate, of course). The goal is just to write every single day. Some students are just writing about their favorite things, some students are writing diary entries about their days, and the rest are taking the traditional path and writing fiction stories.

We are officially 3 days in and I’m already so proud.

My 4th/5th honors block sits at 32 students currently – I am missing goals for 6 of them. With goals ranging from 1,000 to 50,000 (yes, really), the combined goal sits at 159,316 words. As of the end of their block period, not including 3 students writing by hand, they had combined for 6,647 words! 2 students are already over 1,000!

My 6th/7th honors block also sits at 32 students – I am missing goals for 15 of them (they’re a rough bunch, ok?). With goals ranging from 1,000 to 25,000, the combined goal sits at 86,790. That will increase once I get the rest of them and I’ll update next week. As of the end of the school day today, not including 2 students writing by hand, they had combined for 6,285 words. 1 student owns 2,500 of them!

I’m already so happy to see their progress already. Some of them get really excited when I remind them to work on their writing project at the beginning of the period, already begging for more time to write. Two students have asked me to find writing contests they can enter. Sometimes, you don’t really know how much you love something until you’re forc- I mean, encouraged – to do it!

I’m excited to share their progress with you as the weeks go on. We have a lot of testing these next two weeks (SIGH), but for me, this opens the door for more writing time. I definitely also plan to get permission and share some excerpts with you, because their words deserve to be read!

Until next time!

*oh and if you’re curious, I’m still at zero words. I’ve been drowning in reading chapters for my Master’s program!

Vulnerable: Perception #1 (A Poem)

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Teacher, wife, foster mom,
maker of decisions –
I feel like a baseball player
playing all the positions.

These conditions allow others 
to see my spectrum of emotions:
the joy, the tears,
the massive implosions
where I lose my cool;
they think less of me
because they see the cracks
exposed, set free.

I’m a firecracker most days
waiting to explode,
like a cup full of water
but too full – overflowed.

There’s so many days, 
students, family, it’s too much.
They see me be vulnerable
and then forever perceive me as such.

Here’s What I Would “Appreciate” -a poem-

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We all want more money,
but that’s not the point,
it’s the way we always feel
like we’re being exploited.

See, you want to “appreciate”
the teachers who stay –
too bad the way you do it
is making more of us run away.

A week to celebrate
those who educate our future,
a number of which people
dwindle fewer and fewer.

Five days of cute themes
and the snacks that they feature
planned by, you guessed it,
a committee of teachers.

Yes, we appreciate ourselves
because who else will?
I guess they probably think
our wishes, they can’t fulfill.

Like smaller class sizes,
less skipping in the halls,
or for someone to show up
when it’s so bad we call.

Support when a student
tells me, “Shut the fuck up!”
Any kind of response
before a fight starts to erupt.

Stop shilling new products
that suck and don’t last;
we don’t want a script to teach,
this is literally our craft.

No more duty: morning,
after school, or lunch,
on top of the meetings,
it’s all way too much!

Just listen to us,
we have good suggestions!
We’re in the trenches everyday,
giving us the best perceptions.

What I would appreciate
is a modicum of support,
and to feel that EVERYDAY
it’s being reinforced.

A Rant About Teaching and Why Can’t I Change the Whole System By Myself?

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So here we are again: It’s May, there are less than 20 days of school left, and even though this year was difficult (each one always is for different reasons anymore), I am bustling with ideas of things I want to try next year.

NEXT YEAR?

Yes, next year. While I do have two or three applications out to get out of the classroom and move into curriculum writing (which I think is my true passion), the odds I can get those jobs with very little experience in that subject matter is slim to none, I think. The odds aren’t zero, so I applied.

But am I really a teacher planning on going back next year, even with all the straight disrespect given to us lately? Surprisingly, yes. While there were a lot of challenges between students, colleagues and supervisors, I had a blast with my students this year. Did you know I had no students fail my class in the first semester? I have high expectations. Students met them.

As the year went on, my biggest struggle was in getting my coworkers to care as much as I did: to try new things to help their students; to build relationships and understand why they are the way they are. You’re not always the best teacher because you’re mean (you’re also not always the best because you’re nice either).

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Review: Grey Matters by Kristen Costello

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Struggle is universal. But talking about it? Well, that’s not always encouraged – especially when those struggles involve mental illness.

Grey Matters is a poetry collection that urges us to have conversations about the things we’re told to suppress – to bring our darkness to light. It provides refreshingly honest and relatable depictions of anxiety, depression, and eating disorders while also offering sparks of hope to readers – healing may not be a linear process, but over time, it is possible. Things aren’t always black and white: Sometimes, the very thing you’re fighting (your own mind) can also be what saves you.

A beautiful collections of poems that are honest and raw about mental health. Kristen Costello has quickly become one of my favorite poets to put out a collection based on mental health. She is so real and holds nothing back. Her poems are full of beautiful sound – the alliteration in many of her poems creates almost lyrics as you read.

Just in the first poem, “Swallowing Shadows,” I got goosebumps at the line: “This is how we choke – / by swallowing words / we want to spit”.

The book is separated into four sections: anxiety, depression, eating disorders, healing. It weaves a great pathway through the mind and all of the intrusive thoughts we experience along the way.

I’ve already purchased a copy for myself and have recommended it to everyone I know.

Purchase your copy here and let me know what you think!

Review: The Coldest Winter I Ever Spent by Ann Jacobus

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Eighteen-year-old Del is in a healthier place than she was a year and a half ago: She’s sober, getting treatment for her depression and anxiety, and volunteering at a suicide-prevention hotline. Her own suicide attempt is in the past, and living in San Francisco with her beloved aunt has helped her see a future for herself.

But when Aunt Fran is diagnosed with terminal cancer, Del’s equilibrium is shattered. She’s dedicated herself to saving every life she can, but she can’t save Fran. All she can do is help care for her aunt and try to prepare herself for the inevitable—while also dealing with a crush, her looming first semester at college, and her shifts at the crisis line.

After Aunt Fran asks for her help with a mind-boggling final request, Del must confront her own demons and rethink everything she thought she knew about life and death.

This book kept me up reading until 3am because I was so pulled into the emotion and drama.

“The Coldest Winter I Ever Spent” is an emotional teen novel that doesn’t hold back. Suffering from depression and anxiety and not far removed from an attempt on her own life, Del is finding herself again and looking forward to college. Things are well until she learns her Aunt Fran has cancer again and has an unthinkable request. Not to mention, her distant crush is in town adding another layer of stress and frustration. The relationship between the Del and everyone around her creates a very strong emotional pull that makes you soak in every word.

A five star book about grief, mental health, and family to get you in your feelings.

Purchase it here!

Thank you to Netgalley and Lerner Publishing Group for an advanced copy. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

*Trigger Warning: This book involves discussions of suicidal ideation and references to suicide. If you are experiencing thoughts of suicide, have any questions about suicide, are worried about a loved one and seeking guidance, or simply need a listening ear, you can call or text 988 or call 1-800-273-8255 (TALK). Both of these numbers connect to the confidential, anonymous Lifeline network of crisis lines in all fifty US states.

ripped away -a poem-

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ripped from your fingers
when you’d finally gotten the grasp,
snatched from your hands
that’s it – that’s a wrap.
you got one chance,
you should’ve tried harder –
oh, you felt your life was falling apart? Er —-

too bad, no second chances.
the decision’s been made,
your input be damned.
it’s all a game that’s being played
where we forget that our players
can be human too.
they struggle with emotions,
some more than others do.

we give it our all,
but is it ever enough?
or do we keep ripping opportunities
when the going gets rough?

you think you know me
better than I do –
but how do I prove you wrong when
after all I’ve been through,
everything I’ve tried
isn’t good enough for you.

You ripped this from my fingers,
stomped on it with your shoe.
Now what the hell am I supposed to do?

Rest in Heaven, Grandpa: a eulogy

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Bob

In memory of my grandfather, Robert “Bob” —-. I’m Danielle, his first grandchild out of six (almost seven). While he was obviously a great husband to my grandma Cathy, a great father to Steve, Pam and Andrew, a great brother to Ralph and Jack, and a great dog father to Gucci, I can say with all certainty that he was always destined to be called “Grandpa” to all of us grandkids, myself, Taylor, Kaitlyn, LeeAnn, Joseph, Jaxon, and Wyatt on the way. 

In general, the one thing we will all remember my grandpa for was how he never ran out of words. That man could TALK. For how much he did talk, he clearly should have become a preacher. He would’ve made a darn good one, too. Talk about “love your job and never work a day in your life.” He loved church and he loved talking. No one was safe from a conversation with him if you were blessed to be in the vicinity. I was going to say ‘room’ but his gift of gab was not restricted to four walls. When Steve, Pam and Andrew were younger, Grandpa would take them fishing every year. He would fish some, and he’d also make new friends on the pier. But how could you not talk to him? So kind, so friendly, so positive. I remember any time we went out to eat he would talk the server’s ear off. Let’s also not forget the casino bus month after month – banished to the back of the bus so he could talk to everyone else and not distract the bus driver with his nonstop questions. Plus he’d almost always be one of the last ones on the bus at the quick stops because he’d be catching up with everyone in the store and wouldn’t get his snacks or food until most were already back on the bus. I can only imagine how many people there are in this world whose days he brightened when they needed it most with his genuine, kind conversations. How many people he met in all his years of truck driving for Albertsons and AAFES who were held hostage to his endless questions, but would almost always walk away feeling some kind of appreciation for being noticed. As much as sometimes his questioning felt like too much, I always remembered that he wouldn’t ask if he didn’t care, and immediately I just felt loved.

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Turn the Page

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Well, here we are. I am officially done with every part of the 2020-2021 school year. At the end of last summer, I had every doubt that I could make it through this school year in general without a full on mental breakdown. Every day challenged me in a new way, and forced me to look at my own life, thoughts, behavior, personal expectations, self-doubt. I learned who’s really on my team, and who wears two faces better than I thought they did. Most importantly, I learned that I can make it through anything.

It’s crazy how your own mind can work against you, convincing you with every fiber of your being that you are not worth the love and appreciation other people have to give; that you are not great at what you do no matter how many people tell you otherwise; that everyone would be better off when you’re not around.

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Teaching in a Pandemic (I CanNOT Survive This Twice)

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Being a teacher this year has been one of the hardest experiences I have ever had to push myself through. I have written a bit on here about my journey being a 7th grade English teacher this year, amidst virtual learning, then hybrid learning, and now still hybrid but really like 80% face-to-face and 20% virtual.

Every part of this year has been so difficult. Let’s break it down.

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