Lord of the Whys

Why do we tell stories? I asked my class today as part of the personal narrative unit, and as they were discussing their ideas with another student one guy waved flagged me over.

"Can I tell him a story?" he asked, nodding at his partner.

"That's not exactly what we're doing," I told him, "but why do you want to?" I continued, drawing out the word.

"Because he told me one," he shrugged, "and now it's my turn."

"But you don't have to tell a story," I said.

"I know," he answered impatiently, "but I want to."

"But WHY do you want to?" I probed, eye brows raised. "That is the question."

"Oh," he said. "Because it's fun? Because I think he might like it? Because I will like telling it?" He paused. "Are you just going to ask me why, why, why, again?"

"Nope," I said. "Do you know why?"

Sleep Deprived

Why? Why? Why?

Our puppy was doing so well-- out of the crate at 4 months, recovering from spaying like a champ with no chewing licking or even whining about her little pillow of shame. So last night, after the stitches were out, and she finally had a chance to play with other dogs for the first time in 10 days, and she ate a healthy dinner and was neatly groomed, it didn't seem like such a stretch that she might sleep soundly through the night.

And yet...

Let's just say, if Lucy ain't sleepin, ain't nobody sleepin.

After a night of jumping and playing and chewing and tossing and rocking and rolling, today was a very long day.

And There She Was

"I forgot to give Emily these tomatoes," I complained to Heidi as I packed up to leave school today around 5. "I don't know if she's still here, but I wrote myself a note for tomorrow," I continued, stepping into the hall and closing my door behind me. A quick glance down the looooooong corridor to my right revealed a miraculous sight. "Emily!" we shouted. She turned around, and I ducked back into my room to grab her gift from the garden.

Happy ending!

Did He?

We talk a walk on the National Mall this morning, hoping to enjoy the beautiful weather and tire our puppy out. Our plan was to walk from the Capital to the Lincoln, reflection pool to reflection pool a distance of two miles, and back again.

As we neared the first reflection pool, all the ducks diving drew Lucy's attention, but I was more engaged by the brother and sister walking toward us. She perhaps eight and he around six were also fascinated by the animal life in the pool.

"I see a shark!" he cried and grabbed her elbow.

"They don't have sharks here!" she said crossly.

"Where are we, again?" he asked.

"Washington!" she told him. "The Capital?" she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the impressive edifice gleaming white against the amazing blue September sky.

"Well I saw a shark," he said.

Vegging

"Going for the exotic vegetables, are you?" the woman ahead of me in the grocery line asked as I unloaded my shopping basket. "What is that? Cassava? Jicama?" she guessed.

I laughed politely. "No, it's rutabaga," I shrugged, "actually pretty homespun."

"Well, I never eat rutabaga," she assured me. "Sweet potatoes? Yes. Carrots? Sure, lots of them."

"Better watch out," I warned her. "Rutabaga could be next... Those are definitely gateway vegetables!" 

Imperfect Storm

Week one is in the books, and oh my gosh you guys!

I

Am

Exhausted!

Could it be the grueling combination of new students, new staff, new curriculum, new learning management system, new elementary school being built right outside my window, and...

old teacher?

Nah!

I see you Monday.

Telling the Tale

The first week of writing workshop is spent gathering ideas for personal narratives in our new writing notebooks. It's more fun than it sounds-- the kids get to play around with a few low stakes get-to-know-you writing exercises that are designed to turn up some new topics for the first unit.

On Wednesday it was If you were a character in a novel, what would the plot be? As I circulated from student to student, I found that just having them tell a story from their lives in third person turned out to be incredibly freeing. There were so many compelling tales about family, friends, heartbreaking losses, school and playground drama, pets, championship games, and changing schools, cities, states, and countries.

"What would the story be about?" I asked each kid.

"It's about a 9-year-old girl and her mom and brother who travel to Africa," one girl explained. "Her dad had to stay home to work," she continued. "All the grown-ups were really nice to the kids when their mom was around," she said, "but one day when their mom went shopping, the mean maid locked them in a closet!"

My eyes grew wide. "Wow!" I told her. "What a story!"

Another student's story was about a boy who was starting middle school. When he found out that his buddy wasn't on the same team, he didn't even want to go any more. He begged his mom to skip the open house so that he could stay home and play video games, but she insisted. When he got to school that afternoon, he was amazed to run into another kid who had been a really good friend in 4th grade until he moved and went to another school.

"It has a silver lining!" he told me.

I had to agree.