As Writers Do

My students are doing the Slice of Life challenge this month, and that has given us a lot to talk about. Not only am I privileged to read 100 words or more of personal writing from each every day, what's even better are the conversations we have about writing. In addition to highlighting golden lines and showing them exactly why it's important to use punctuation and capitalization, we talk a lot about how to find a topic every day.

"But nothing exciting happens to me!" many have cried.

"That's not the point," I tell them. "The idea is find something, maybe big, maybe small, and write about it. Experiment! Try figurative language, or sensory description, or adding dialog, or making a connection to another time. Write about what annoyed you, or what made you happy for even the smallest moment. What surprised you? What made you think?"

And they have responded. "Look!" one student called me over. "I wrote 150 words about 30 seconds! It took me much longer to write it than it did for it to happen!"

"You exploded the moment! Awesome!" I congratulated her.

Other kids are really getting it, too, and we are beginning to converse as writers do. Yesterday I had my ukulele at school, and so I pulled it out and strummed a few cords right before lunch. Everyone laughed at the silly song I made up. "Are you going to write about that?" one of my students asked.

I shrugged. "Maybe. Are you?"

"Maybe," she shrugged back.

Later I saw her outside with her PE class. It was a beautiful day and I was taking a quick walk before a meeting. "Are you going to write about walking?" she called.

"Maybe!" I answered. "Are you going to write about this gorgeous day?"

"Maybe!" she answered.

Busy Town

As I walking the dog this morning, the world was full of activity: robins bobbed on greening grass; squirrels scampered and scurried up and down trees in sets of two and three; young professionals checked their smartphones as they waited at the bus stop; children practiced soccer on the field up at the school.

Something about it reminded me of Richard Scarry's Busy Town, a book my brother, sister, and I loved when we were little. In fact I half expected to see a calico cat in a white jacket delivering milk. Scarry's books were a combination of large-scale illustrations of complex scenes in between pages with explicitely-labeled single images from the big pictures, and looking back on it, I learned a lot of vocabulary from them. For example, I never rode a train until I was 14 years old, but I knew what a conductor was. Likewise, I was familiar with a toboggan and a trowel, and a lot of other things that gave me a foot up on reading comprehension.

Yesterday our language arts meeting was focused on authentic vocabulary instruction, and the presenter mentioned the 32-million word gap that many children in low-income families experience by age four. In essence, researchers found that the affected children heard on average 8 million fewer words spoken to them a year, so that by the time they were four and ready for preschool, they already had a 32 million word deficit, which translated into both a more limited vocabulary and a more limited capacity for learning vocabulary.

We didn't talk about it, but one instructional intervention to help those kids catch up with their peers is to use visuals alongside key vocabulary whenever possible. The situation also may explain the rise in popularity of graphic novels, particularly among below-grade level readers.

That Richard Scarry was really on to something!

First-hand Knowledge

Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at all.
~Sam Ewing, American humorist

Google inspirational quotes, and you will find quite an assortment attributed to one Sam Ewing. Who is that guy, anyway? I don't know, but I have a slightly different version of the inspirational quote above, courtesy of my winter CSA:

Too many turnips spotlights the character of people: some turn the turnips into soup, some turn the turnips into pickles, some turn the turnips into delicious blueberry muffins, and some turn the turnips into compost.

A Stroll through Time

I took advantage of the high-70s, warm-breeze weather we enjoyed today and went out for a little walk around campus before my after-school meeting this afternoon. There were plenty of folks with the same idea on the half-mile trail that circles the grounds. At one point I passed a double stroller filled with twins who looked to be about 6 months old. Eleven years from now? One or the other will probably be in my class, I thought as I waved.

Making my way around to the back corner, I smiled when I saw the infield sprinklers damping the red clay of the diamond; tonight will be a good night for softball. They also reminded me of a sixth grade picnic several years ago.

Back then the turf soccer field we have now was a crushed gravel pitch that had to be watered regularly to keep it playable. There were timed sprinklers all around the perimeter, and right at the end of the picnic they all came on. The students let out a collective cheer and flooded on to the field. The teachers let out a collective gasp and tried to wave them all away, but it was no use. In the end it was so hot it didn't matter-- everyone cooled off AND dried off by the time we had to go back inside, and as a group they were exhilarated.

I walked back in with a trio of girls, still chattering about the dousing. "That was awesome! Did you guys plan this special for us?" they asked.

I laughed and said nothing, because in a way? I wished we had.

Mush!

"You're all invited to come back in February," our tour guide told everyone on the motor coach from Denali, "for the Iditarod and some Northern Lights!" We laughed at her teasing, but it was more a little tempting. Imagine that, I thought.

I forgot her playful invitation until I saw a piece on the news a little while ago about that annual dog sled race. Watching the video footage of the ceremonial start of the Iditarod gave me a little pang-- despite the snow, it was easy to recognize the same downtown Anchorage we criss-crossed on foot for a couple days last August. Imagine that, I thought.

Later, at my computer, I clicked over to the official site, scanning through the progress of the mushers, and reading about how, because of the warm winter, they had actually had to ship in snow this year for the Anchorage leg of the race. One link in particular caught my eye. Teacher on the Trail it read. I knew the Iditarod had a robust collection of educational materials, but it turns out there is an annual contest to choose one teacher to create lessons and post dispatches from the trail.

Imagine that!

Makes You Stronger

"I must have picked up something from my niece," our neighbor coughed a little while ago as we visited. She sat in the rocking chair across the room from us. "Better not come any closer," she warned with a half-hearted laugh.

She needn't have worried. As school teachers, we both have super-resistant to most common bugs in this household (takes a moment to knock on the wooden desk). I don't want to jinx it, but by my calculations I have been exposed to somewhere near 5000 grubby little germ factories in my career...

...and I thank them all for contributing to my immunity!

No Complaints

We have had the excellent fortune to have enjoyed the last two weekends away, one on a cruise to the Bahamas and another to a waterfront beach house on the Chesapeake Bay. Relaxing and recharging, both were spent with people I love; I saw the sun rise out of the sea each morning, walked the beach each day, and watched the sun set each evening.

This Saturday I paid the bills, did my taxes, washed and folded clothes, graded some papers, and took the dog for a long walk.

It's good to be home.