A year ago I wrote a post called “The Year of March”. Today we have “Another Year of March.”
One year ago, I was just getting a grip on how to “teach” PE from my living room and balcony. Today I had to push myself to complete the SeeSaw tasks for my students as we enter another lockdown period of distance learning tomorrow.
365 days ago, I was sad for the Slice of Life Challenge to end. Today I’m sad again.
One year ago my 12 year old 6th grader was losing steam, feeling mostly cranky about doing school at home. Today my 13 year old 7th grader is thriving and making the most of his hybrid experience; able to take this next lockdown in stride.
One year ago I shared a household with my husband. Now that is no longer the case.
A lot can happen in a year and a lot can happen in minutes. The question is always what we notice and how we allow those experiences to shape us.
I’m different now after a full year of pandemic reality. It would be worrisome if I hadn’t changed in some way.
What I noticed in my last post of last year’s challenge was the remarkable faith. Faith in us, in our humanity, in our increased sense of interdependence.
Listen:
Remember, then, how we recovered
how long it took until we found not the way back
but chose a different path
One that held space for everyone who needed it
A path that afforded more humanity and care
than we had seen in centuries.
That was us, you remember.
We did that.
From The Year of March
Well, that recovery is slow to come and arrives in fits, starts and mirages. One year on and we may be a good deal wiser but not necessarily more humane or gentle or justice-driven.
But at least we know that we are vulnerable and reliant on others in too many ways to count. We know that the help we receive may not come in the form we asked for. We know that even our best selves are not immune to selfishness and envy. It has been a year to remind us that not all learning is chosen.
As I leave this nourishing and affirming space, I want to remember Slice of Life as a place I come to dream in words; a place I return to again and again to choose learning and growth and fellowship in writing and humanity. Such that even another year of March is a gift bestowed.
Thank you all.
Sherri's Slice of Life Project 
This slice hits such a range of emotional notes–highs, lows, and piercing truths. Thank you.
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What a thoughtful slice. We are definitely a year wiser from last March. I hope you continue to heal and keep dreaming.
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Thank you so much!
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I like the hybrid of prose and poetry and past and present. I like the honest reflection on the changes that have happened in and outside of you. The interdependence. My favorite line, “how long it took until we found not the way back” rings certainly true and incredibly wise.
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We are the work in progress. Thank you for your time and attention.
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So much beauty here. Reflection is where we realize how we’ve grown, where we can still grow. So happy to write alongside you.
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Sheri, we are certainly different people now that’s we were last March! Thank you for writing such beautiful posts.
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“Not all learning is chosen.” Beautiful.
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I love reading your writing. I am sorry that you are heading back into lock down tomorrow – we’re anticipating an announcement of the same tomorrow afternoon. I’m crossing my fingers that we make it one more week (end of this quarter), but we shall see. In the meantime, this description of the Slice of Life Challenge will stay with me: “a place I come to dream in words; a place I return to again and again to choose learning and growth and fellowship in writing and humanity. Such that even another year of March is a gift bestowed.” Thanks for sharing your gifts.
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Sherri, thank you. Thank you for letting us dream in words along with you. Your poem makes my heart ache with hope – hope for a time when yes, we CAN create space for one another, we CAN create a more caring path. And THIS line: “It has been a year to remind us that not all learning is chosen.” Painfully, reluctantly, those words reveal truth. Because that’s what good writing does. Thank you.
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