If you clicked on this blog post today, chances are you are working on, or have achieved certification with National Boards for Professional Teaching (NBPT). When I thought about next steps/challenges for my teaching career I thought I might give it a try. I already tackled Reading Recovery training, multiple college degrees, and advanced coaching training. “Hey, let’s check out National Board Certification” I thought.

When I looked at the the 5 Core Propositions for accomplished teachers, I truly embraced and believed in all of them:

• 1. Teachers are committed to students and their learning.
• 2. Teachers know the subjects they teach and how to teach those subjects to students.
• 3. Teachers are responsible for managing and monitoring student learning.
• 4. Teachers think systematically about their practice and learn from experience.
• 5. Teachers are members of learning communities.

So last year several teachers from my district and I embarked on this journey together. We tackled components 1 (a grueling test) and 2 (differentiated instruction that never seemed good enough!) last year and now we are up to our eyeballs this spring in components 3 (the dreaded video taping) and 4 (being an effective/reflective practitioner).

It’s frustrating, exhausting, and truly eye-opening.  I’ve never dissected my teaching so many different ways. I’ve never questioned everything I did to the nth degree. (Well, Reading Recovery training may have caused as much guilt-ridden reflection, but enough time has passed that it’s all a pleasant memory now!)

I don’t think I could do it without my colleagues to collaborate and console, to nudge and to nag. Thank you Caroline, Katie, Maureen, and Gigi. We’re getting closer each day to that May 15 deadline. We’ll upload that last file, hit submit, and …

wait 6-7 months for the results!

Here’s to any of you slicers who are trying to plug away at NBPT work and slice each day. You’ve got moxie and motivation! Now go back through your writing and make sure it is clear, consistent, and convincing!!

I live in Maine.  We don’t even talk about spring until April makes its entrance.  When Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow and forecasters cry, “Six more weeks of winter.” we all scoff,  “If only!”

But last week we had days tapping 60 degrees.  The two feet of snow on the ground surrendered to the sun leaving only gray piles of abandoned road sand and islands of icy patches.

Yesterday I heard the call of a Red-Winged Blackbird. For me, THAT is the siren of spring. I raced to the window  to spy the songster. I tried hard not to let myself get excited. There he was!  “Conkareeeee!  I’m back!” he sang out, over and over.

I can’t get spring fever yet!  Stella is on my doorstep and she’s visiting with a vengeance. Now someone else is singing out! Hang on little blackbird, it’s going to get nasty!

My girl is coming home today!  Her spring break and my spring break don’t align, but I don’t care.  She’ll be home.

I must say her first year at college has flown by and we’ve adjusted well.  I think it helps that she is healthy and happy and successful with her studies.  A year ago I could not have imagined what life would be like without Bailey here each day. I refused to let myself think about it much because I didn’t want it to get in the way of enjoying those senior year moments.

The most difficult time wasn’t even driving her to school, lugging everything she owned up three flights of un-airconditioned stairs, or even kissing her goodbye and driving away. To be sure those were emotional and they challenged me to be strong, but she looked genuinely happy and that is all I could’ve asked for.

The moment of truth for me, however, came hours later.  My husband and I drove the long “labor-day-weekend-of-traffic-into-Maine” ride reminiscing. We were feeling content with the life we had built together and so proud of our amazing kids. When we got home, I walked upstairs to put my things away and stopped outside my daughter’s room. I opened the door and looked at the empty. And that was how my heart felt, too. I sobbed. Not the sniffly, trickling tear… but the ugly cry. The one where your face gets so wet, your sleeves can’t soak it up fast enough and your shoulders shrug uncontrollably.

It didn’t last long. Within a few moments I was exhausted and spent, but I knew I’d be ok, because she was ok. Later, I sent her a text to say goodnight. I’d read all the advice about letting them contact you first, but that was just stupid! I’d always said goodnight and I wasn’t going to stop then. We exchanged texts during the next few days as I tried to piece together her new life in my mind.

The days turned into weeks, which turned into months, and here we are. Each time she comes home, my heart soars. I love hearing about her studies, her dance team, her friends. Our time together is more precious than ever.  So today I’ll walk with a lighter step, I’ll talk with a smile on my face, and an ache in my arms that are ready to wrap around her.

Here’s to a wonderful break.