Mining For Hidden Gems

The best way to read Kwame Alexander's Crossover is in one sitting from start to finish.  You don't want to take your eyes off of this performance for too long .  The novel in verse tells the story of Josh and his twin brother and that of their relationship with each other, with their father and with the game.  At times the entries made me, a complete ignorant when it comes to basketball, feel as if I was dribbling the ball across the court, performing a crossover and dunking: Dribbling At the top of the key, I'm                 MOVING & GROOVING , POPing and ROCKING - Why you BUMPING?              Why you LOCKING? Man, take this THUMPING. Be careful though, 'cause now I'm CRUNKing                 criss CROSSING   FLOSSING  flipping  and my dipping will leave you   S    L       I         P           P             I               N                  G   on the floor, while I SWOOP in to the finish with a fierce finger roll

I know a book is good when: 1.  I find out it is all about baseball and I continue reading 2.  I do not skim over the sport jargon and play by plays 3.  I cry like a baby in front of whomever is sitting in a room when the surprise pinch hitter saves the game and all the pieces of the story come together. Last year I found a gem of a book in  Love, Ruby Lavender.   I loved the language and the rhythm of the story.  The vivid characters and the rich dialogue put the book on my list of all-time favorites.  As a bonus I found out that it is actually part of a trilogy of books by Deborah Wiles about a small Southern community.  I had read  Each Little Bird That Sings  aloud with my daughter when she was in fourth grade and still had time for read-alouds with me before bed.  I just finished reading  The All-Stars  and can't recommend it highly enough.  Besides all the qualities that made  Ruby Lavender  a great read, this book also carries a strong theme of community.  Life in Mab

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” -Einstein My first year as a teacher, I had a student, Jonathan, who struggled with reading and writing.  It was surprising to me as a novice teacher who knew very little about learning differences, because I saw so many other strengths in him.  He was great at math and making astute observations in science.  He just hated to write and struggled with reading fluently.  Often he would call himself dumb and other degrading names.  I forbade him from talking negatively about himself.  His frustrations with learning manifested themselves in behavior that landed him in the office often.  He used inappropriate language and was at times aggressive.  I did my best to show Jonathan that he was smart in many ways.  Almost at the end of that school year, I heard a presentation on dyslexia and immediately saw all the symptoms in Jonathan and all of sudden ever

It happens every year.  It happens to the best of us.  There comes a day when we ask ourselves is it all worth it. Are we making a difference?  The task seems so daunting; the demands ever-increasing.  As teachers of small children, we rarely see immediate results of our efforts.  Last year, on one of those days I wrote these words and left them in my colleagues' boxes as a small token of encouragement: The sum of our days is a tally of all things good and bad.  Every day, every moment is a chance to add a little bit to the good  or a little bit to the bad.    The choice is ours.  So we show up every day,  see the best in every child,  do the best we can and  hope that we have added  a bit to the good in their lives.    When it’s all said and done,  that’s all that matters.    All that we can ask for  is that we are remembered  because we let them go  a little bit smarter,  a little bit more confident,  a little bit happier  than