Read All About It

The finishing touch of most journalism pieces is not a title but a headline.

So I told my students today as we embarked on the last week of their personal profile assignment. Before we looked at some tips on how to write an effective headline, we looked at a few examples of some that had fallen short. Here they are:

Police chase winds through three towns
Teacher strikes idle kids
Trial ends in mercy killing
Owners responsible for biting canines
Sisters reunited after 18 years in checkout line at supermarket
Services for man who refused to hate Thursday in Atlanta
Grandmother of eight makes hole in one
Milk drinkers are turning to powder
Juvenile court tries shooting suspect 
New rule cuts tardy students in half

As for that last one? My homeroom this year would be a bloodbath.

The Dreaded Red Number

If you know that the title of this post refers to a cartoon drawing of a dentist in red smock and dreadlocks, Novocain at the ready, that appeared on a map of downtown Washington DC, then you were at the 5th annual PostHunt today.

My nephew, Treat, and I were there, too, and we agreed at the end of the afternoon that this year was really hard. We sort of got four out of the five puzzles, and I was proud of myself for deciphering a tiny bit of the endgame on the subway platform, even after we had given up.

The day was beautiful though and luck was on our side. As we plotted and solved our way around Penn Quarter, we overshot the best street to turn on to take us to our next clue, so we took the next right instead. Walking down a street nearly deserted of fellow hunters, I squinted at some people up the block. They were definitely wearing STAFF shirts. "What are they doing here?" I wondered aloud, and we picked up our pace a little to find out. Miraculously, they handed us what happened to be a clue to a puzzle we were stuck on.

"Yay!" I cheered. "How did we do that?"

Treat studied the map. "It's right here," he pointed. "The dreaded red numb-er."

The Soul of Wit

I am not one who goes in much for pageantry and ceremony-- we can analyze that in another entry-- so this time of year with its first communions, weddings, retirements, awards, and graduations can be trying for me.

Today was an exception, however. We attended the graduation of a good friend's son, and although I was dreading it a bit, it was painless. No, it was better than painless: it was actually sort of enjoyable.

Why? Well, he was one of only two graduating from his Sudbury school. There were just four chairs on the stage, and following a brief welcome, a personal speaker for each graduate, and remarks from both boys, we were witness to the quickest.diploma.procession.ever.

Short, individualized, and student-centered... just my kind of thing.

Diminishing Returns

I had my writing group last night and as always it was a fun evening. We have been meeting monthly for nearly six years now, and I love the camaraderie. The food's great too, and the writing is none too shabby. It's always a thrill to see what my friends bring.

As for myself, well, I struggle lately.  Eighteen months ago I started something, a little story which will probably end up as my third unfinished novel. I've written a bit for almost every meeting since then, and I have perhaps 5000 words. Last night was definitely the least I've ever composed, one paragraph of perhaps 125 words.

I liked it though; it was a fine paragraph indeed.

And... at this rate? I'll have some kind of something in about 10 years. Stay tuned.

In the meantime,  kudos to my friend, Mike, whose first novel was published yesterday!

And You Can Quote Me

One of the requirements of the personality profiles that my students are (still!) working on is that each piece must include several direct quotations: some from the subject, a couple from other kids, and at least one from an adult.

Here's my favorite so far:

"Woof, woof," yelled the German shepherd of Rose.

How Do They Know?

I got my temporary AARP card in the mail today. Of course it's no good unless and until I pay my sixteen bucks and join the swelling ranks of Americans over 50.

And I still have one month.

Don't forget that.

One month.

Rain, Rain

Come today!
I was too busy to water the garden--
plus the weatherman promised
boomers and soakers
this evening.
Clear skies?
Go away!
Heaven
drench
us.