Day 22 I decided to write a letter to the first person that needs encouraging me. Like Clare said, I am giving myself the oxygen first. Here I am writing in the company of all my dear slicers in the comfort of Two Writing Teachers. This is day 23 of the 31 day writing challenge.
Dear Me #sol20
March 23, 2020
I know you feel adrift right now, like your best ideas as a coach have always been built on connections and moments. These things are not present in their familiar forms right now. So… now is the time to create some new forms of connections and moments.
Spend the day today creating a creative space, a warm space. Consider what each grade level, each teacher might need, might enjoy, might treasure and start doing what you do… making lists. While you’re making a list, make sure you make a list of all the things you brought home from the literacy center. You’re going to go back there and you’ll want all these things to pack up and go too.
It’s Monday, so don’t forget your Monday flowers and your message teacup, some music, work(ish) clothes (well from the top up at least). Maybe this will magically transform this remote space to be a little more like the missed space.
Make some movies today. You can always throw them away… or send them. Create a padlet, a screencast, a flip grid. Now’s the time to learn all the things. You won’t have to use them forever.
Work actual work hours… no less and no more. You can still walk the dog and have lunch in your kitchen and thank goodness take all the breaks for personal business that you want.
So I know you feel adrift, but drop anchor for now. They know where you are and how to find you. They will… they will.
Stay well,
Me
Reflections from a Coach 
Dearest Susan,
I am writing to you to let you know that your excellent transcends the walls of school and your capacity to reach children and adults will too. From one overachiever to another, embrace the not-knowing-ness of this new frontier. We cannot be excellent in the same ways as we were in brick and mortar school and collaboration–but our skills, heart and courage remain. You are gifted with all three. I look forward to how you will apply them to serve our children in this next phase. Oxygen shared. Hugs (from a socially appropriate distance).
(Actually tears shed while in a meeting). 💕
I felt better after reading this pep letter you gave yourself. I’m working to extract myself from the dull-drums. Incremental steps seem to work best. I think I’m going to move forward w/ an idea (a resource) I have and put it into the world. It will find a home w/ those who need it, and if that’s just one person, that’s okay, too.
Let’s make that our mantra 👍
Pinky promise!
This is such good advice for all of us right now. I love this line: “I know you feel adrift, but drop anchor for now.” Thank you!
The more I read and reread your slice letter, the more I think: you know, being anchored in Sue’s kitchen sounds like a most excellent port for this particular storm, especially as long as this network of virtual tin cans at the ends of their fiber-optic strings holds out. Here’s to keeping everything ship-shape enough.
A letter to yourself … so smart! I am still laughing over our Sunday morning adventure! Clearly, I needed some oxygen AND I am looking forward to our next virtual walk together. There is no doubt they will come — I know I plan to. This line gave me another laugh: You can still walk the dog and have lunch in your kitchen and thank goodness take all the breaks for personal business that you want.
Talk soon,
Clare
Susan- I have loved reading your posts during this SOL challenge. While I’m on Spring Break, I have found myself feeling similar. I’ve had to keep some semblance of order with having a schedule- showering and still dressing up in casual attire. I make a list of what I want to accomplish during the day and there’s always something left for the next day. I hope you back at your letter and remind yourself of all these thoughts. Stay well.
Thanks for writing this letter for you and for me…and I’m sure many others. ❤️
>So I know you feel adrift, but drop anchor for now. <
Susan, you've outdone yourself with this letter. It gave me chills reading it, but so many of us could have written the same thing. The line at the top is my favorite, it makes me think, we'll get through this as we find that normal that works for us.
Tomorrow is a new day and a new time to drop anchor and see what the tide brings to us.
Thank you for sharing this thoughtful slice. As you can tell, it touched many of us. ♥️
Drop anchor for now–just beautiful. I love this format of writing a letter to yourself, and what you’ve said to buoy your own spirits is what so many of us needed to hear!