Slice of Life is a 31 day project in the month of March to capture daily reflections, moments and ideas. Nawal’s journey is purposefully multimodal to broaden access, so you can follow along by listening to recordings and audio tracks, engaging with pictures or reading the words. We believe this project, hosted by Two Writing Teachers, has implications for our literacy instruction in schools. Strengthening our writing muscles and identifying ourselves as writers helps us know better how to teach students to do the same. Noticing our own craft supports the teaching of it. The call to provide feedback to others participating in the project creates community and simultaneously informs our methods for collaboration and feedback in the classroom. It is our hope that selected Slices layered with audio and visuals might serve as mentor texts for students too. You can read Nawal’s 31 days of March 2021 writing here.
I didn’t write about traveling today on an airplane with the youngest two, to see my Khaleh because her body is failing. I have to be there for my mother.
I didn’t write about our five-year-old saying, one day on our way to the park as she slipped her little hand into mine, I’m white on the outside but brown on the inside, right mama? Because you’re brown?
I didn’t write about Armon, our mail carrier, singing loudly on his way up our stairs in response to the piece I wrote and shared about him. I’ve been listening to Michael Jackson, he told me yesterday, unable to suppress a grin.
I didn’t write about exercise as medicine, or my Bahraini side and what that island means to me; about the fractured nature of immigrant memories or diaspora realities of disconnection while holding on to what we’ve got with a real fear of additional loss.
“Are you going to keep writing?” my husband asked yesterday. “It seems to bring you joy.”
I came here because, as my friend said, I have something to say. Most days I wrote about what lingered in my mind in the morning beyond my padded footsteps from the bed, past our four sleeping children, their even breath filling me with peace. I wrote about whatever stayed in my mind as I tiptoed down to the basement, where I routinely make a morning espresso before my family wakes up. Some days, I recorded my voice as audio alongside the writing, particularly when translanguaging with Farsi- it’s a gift to share the author’s voice – so readers could hear how I intended it to sound.
I felt emboldened by comments, and deeply grateful. I made friendships from Texas to Austria, Pennsylvania to- unexpectedly- Bahrain. Turns out my cousin’s kids attend school where you teach, Denise.
I practiced composing in Farsi on Fridays, coming to terms with how I’ve compartmentalized language. I learned about writing craft, my reliance on repetition; on dedication, and how other educators move and think in the world. Deep, intimate, interesting. I contemplated nourishment, though I would have liked to explore that question further: what nourishes us?
I found community and catharsis. I leaned into vulnerability. I found parts of myself I forgot existed. That was nourishing enough for me.
Thank you, all.
Slice of Life, Day 31
Water coloring by my mother, Mahnaz Liaghat, as part of a collaborative mother-daughter passion project.
Oh, Nawal.
This piece left me swirling in a sea of emotion—gratitude for what we’ve all experienced, melancholy because the month is ending, and a deep sense of appreciation for how you move through the world. Your writing has changed and shaped my worldview in powerful ways. Your Farsi Friday brought delight, and hearing your read your own words added so much value to the message. The love you have for your four littles is exquisite, and as I read your final post, I once again stood in awe of your reflective spirit. I think I’ll join you in contemplating nourishment. You have fed my soul for the last thirty one days, and I am grateful.
This is a beautiful reflection of all this month has meant to you. You captured so many of the feelings and more, in your words. Keep writing, because, as your husband says, it brings you joy! Your words brought me joy.
Such a beautiful post for the last day. I hope you do keep writing because reading your posts brings me joy! It has been an honor to be in this community with you and I’m so grateful for your words of encouragement. ❤️
Nawal – I so grateful we connected this year in a few ways — but this month especially. I agree with your husband, it seems to bring you joy. I know your words will continue to spread into the world and impact so many. I know I am already waiting for your next piece. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself – I look forward to the day we can meet in person.
Your mother’s painting is so beautiful. I could picture it hanging in the bedroom of a child. I was touched that your husband noticed the joy that writing beings you. I often wonder if my husband even knows I write! I enjoyed meeting you through your words this month. You do have things to say. Thanks for sharing them with us.
Nawal, it has been such a pleasure getting to know you through your writing this month. You’ve expanded my world through your generous cultural offerings this month; I hope you continue your generosity on Tuesdays. Congrats on 31 days!