This week, I didn't have time to check in with Teachers Write! at all until late Friday evening. Now I am reading through the whole week and hoping to jump back in tomorrow.
This post is just to remind myself of a couple of things.
1. If I were to write a Dear Stranger letter today, it would be addressed to the teen who helped Chelsea finish her craft at the library.
2. I love the idea of writing a scene about what you see and then rewriting how your character sees it. I wish I had a firmer idea of a character in mind!
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Thursday, July 4, 2013
The Room
A description of the room in which I currently sit:
I sit in the corner at my black desk and type on my new laptop. As my fingers strike the keys, black words appear on the white screen. Next to my laptop lie magazines waiting to me read, a clock that keeps me aware of how late it is getting, some devotionals, a journal, and my phone. The items on this desk keep in touch with or distract me from my world. To my right, on the yellow wall is painted a green crocodile. His teeth show, but he wears so a smile, so he seems quite friendly. His companions are a painted over giraffe and an outline of a donkey drawn on the carpet by my two year old in permanent marker. To my left is a closet full of spare bedding and junk. Bags hang from the closet handles holding my superpowers and tools for the week's activities. Next to the closet stands a bookshelf holding professional books, personal favorites, and family photo albums. On the far wall, is a twin bed with reading lamps and more books waiting to be read. The door is closed. In this room, I am alone.
A description focusing on mood:
12:47 AM. I sit at my desk in the corner alone. No one stirs. No tiny feet run across the wood floors. No four legged creatures play or fight. No laughter rolls under the door and echos off the walls. No raised screaming voices argue over the favorite toy of the moment. Even the hum, bubble, and gurgle of the saltwater tank and accompanying sump seem nonexistent. I type quietly on the keys and clear black words appear on the white screen. Just as I hear no one and nothing, no one hears me.
I see the shadows of my monitor, the outline of my hair and figure, and my fingers moving around the keyboard. The yellow walls seem miles away. The crocodile painted on the wall and the outline of the donkey on the floor seem to shrink in their skin and disappear. No chat windows are open. I see no one, and no one sees me.
I close my eyes and breathe in deeply. I do not smell the cake I just frosted sitting in the kitchen. I do not smell the fabric softener from the load of laundry running in the dryer. I don't taste the remains of dinner or the toothpaste that surely remains, if only faintly, on my teeth. I continue to teach the keys on my keyboard. They don't reach back for me. I am alone. I hear no one, see no one, feel noone, smell nothing, and taste nothing. I am alone. I wonder about no one and somehow feel certain that no one wonders about me.
I sit in the corner at my black desk and type on my new laptop. As my fingers strike the keys, black words appear on the white screen. Next to my laptop lie magazines waiting to me read, a clock that keeps me aware of how late it is getting, some devotionals, a journal, and my phone. The items on this desk keep in touch with or distract me from my world. To my right, on the yellow wall is painted a green crocodile. His teeth show, but he wears so a smile, so he seems quite friendly. His companions are a painted over giraffe and an outline of a donkey drawn on the carpet by my two year old in permanent marker. To my left is a closet full of spare bedding and junk. Bags hang from the closet handles holding my superpowers and tools for the week's activities. Next to the closet stands a bookshelf holding professional books, personal favorites, and family photo albums. On the far wall, is a twin bed with reading lamps and more books waiting to be read. The door is closed. In this room, I am alone.
A description focusing on mood:
12:47 AM. I sit at my desk in the corner alone. No one stirs. No tiny feet run across the wood floors. No four legged creatures play or fight. No laughter rolls under the door and echos off the walls. No raised screaming voices argue over the favorite toy of the moment. Even the hum, bubble, and gurgle of the saltwater tank and accompanying sump seem nonexistent. I type quietly on the keys and clear black words appear on the white screen. Just as I hear no one and nothing, no one hears me.
I see the shadows of my monitor, the outline of my hair and figure, and my fingers moving around the keyboard. The yellow walls seem miles away. The crocodile painted on the wall and the outline of the donkey on the floor seem to shrink in their skin and disappear. No chat windows are open. I see no one, and no one sees me.
I close my eyes and breathe in deeply. I do not smell the cake I just frosted sitting in the kitchen. I do not smell the fabric softener from the load of laundry running in the dryer. I don't taste the remains of dinner or the toothpaste that surely remains, if only faintly, on my teeth. I continue to teach the keys on my keyboard. They don't reach back for me. I am alone. I hear no one, see no one, feel noone, smell nothing, and taste nothing. I am alone. I wonder about no one and somehow feel certain that no one wonders about me.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Problems, Problems, Oh My!
Since I don't have characters in mind, I'm working through this prompt thinking of myself and my children.
Part 1: Major problems
Major problems in my three-year-old's life right now include: being tired, being hungry, potty training, not being able to do every her five-year-old sister can, and, and wanting to be grown up and doing things but also still wanting to be the cuddly baby.
Major problems in my five-year-old's life right now include: not having her school friends around for the summer, having a mom who likes to take naps, not getting toys all the time when we go to the store and not having a Nintendo DS.
One of my major problems right now is being able to balance my work, my family, my faith, loving and raising kids, and my health. I don't have enough hours in the day or energy in my bones. I'm also not one of those moms who can manage smiling all the time and keep my children polite and well-behaved in public (or at home).
Part 2: In a garden
My three-year-old would stare at and then chase small animals. She would cry and scream about ants and spiders. She would point to colors and pick flowers and leaves.
My five-year-old identifies what she sees, runs through the rows and shakes her hands the way she does when she gets excited, asks her sister to stop following her, and asks questions about the plants and/or animals she can't identify herself.
I remember growing flowers in our garden in Virginia or looking out in my grandfather's garden to see the barriers he tried to put up to keep the animals from eating his food. I also remember trying to grow my own zucchini in Rochester.
Part 3:
My three-year old could solve her hunger problem by eating something that looks good in the garden. :) She could solve her wanting to be bigger problem by finding her way around the garden herself.
My five year old could solve her problem of not having her school friends around by discovering what is around her.
I can balance by spending a bit of quiet time in the garden (or another favorite spot) to rejuvenate me.
Part 1: Major problems
Major problems in my three-year-old's life right now include: being tired, being hungry, potty training, not being able to do every her five-year-old sister can, and, and wanting to be grown up and doing things but also still wanting to be the cuddly baby.
Major problems in my five-year-old's life right now include: not having her school friends around for the summer, having a mom who likes to take naps, not getting toys all the time when we go to the store and not having a Nintendo DS.
One of my major problems right now is being able to balance my work, my family, my faith, loving and raising kids, and my health. I don't have enough hours in the day or energy in my bones. I'm also not one of those moms who can manage smiling all the time and keep my children polite and well-behaved in public (or at home).
Part 2: In a garden
My three-year-old would stare at and then chase small animals. She would cry and scream about ants and spiders. She would point to colors and pick flowers and leaves.
My five-year-old identifies what she sees, runs through the rows and shakes her hands the way she does when she gets excited, asks her sister to stop following her, and asks questions about the plants and/or animals she can't identify herself.
I remember growing flowers in our garden in Virginia or looking out in my grandfather's garden to see the barriers he tried to put up to keep the animals from eating his food. I also remember trying to grow my own zucchini in Rochester.
Part 3:
My three-year old could solve her hunger problem by eating something that looks good in the garden. :) She could solve her wanting to be bigger problem by finding her way around the garden herself.
My five year old could solve her problem of not having her school friends around by discovering what is around her.
I can balance by spending a bit of quiet time in the garden (or another favorite spot) to rejuvenate me.
Monday, July 1, 2013
Before I die, I want to
Before I die, I want to see my daughters to grow up to be confident, kind, successful, smart, and happy people. I want to see them establish and nurture their families, follow their personal dreams, and be successful professionals.
Before I die, I want to know that the students who have walked through my classroom have found and used their voice, love reading, can write powerfully, and accept others for who they are.
Before I die, I want to return to Germany, visit Hawaii, travel to Australia, and tour Great Britain.
Before I die, I want to know that I have grown in my faith, answered God's call as well as humanly possible, and will enter into God's presence to hear, "Well done; you did the best that you could do."
Before I die, I want to know that the ones I love will be filled with a sense of my love in their hearts, will be comforted by their memories of me, and will be comforted in their (short) grief.
Before I die, I want to know that the students who have walked through my classroom have found and used their voice, love reading, can write powerfully, and accept others for who they are.
Before I die, I want to return to Germany, visit Hawaii, travel to Australia, and tour Great Britain.
Before I die, I want to know that I have grown in my faith, answered God's call as well as humanly possible, and will enter into God's presence to hear, "Well done; you did the best that you could do."
Before I die, I want to know that the ones I love will be filled with a sense of my love in their hearts, will be comforted by their memories of me, and will be comforted in their (short) grief.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
An Interview with Chelsea
Q: What do you look like?
A: Curly hair, princess, tall
Q: Describe your bedroom.
A: It's pink and purple. No, I don't have my own bedroom. I share with Katie.
Q: What is your family like?
A: My family is Mama, Daddy, Katie, and me. We have Rocky and Riley, cats.
Q: Describe your pets.
A: They act like, uh...Riley, when you mess around with him, he bites. Rocky is very nice.
Q: What is your favorite thing about yourself? What is your least favorite?
A: I get dressed by myself. I don't like when Daddy says, "You're going in time out."
Q: What is your biggest pet peeve?
A: I don't like a lot Daddy brushing my teeth.
Q: What are you afraid of?
A: I'm afraid of a witch at Halloween. I'm afraid when someone scares me.
Q: What do you want but can't have?
A: Toys. The light up toys I saw at the fireworks.
Q: Who is your best friend?
A: Mansvini
Q: Who is your worst enemy?
A: Hayden
Q: What do you want people to know about you but are afraid to share?
A: I will give you a card. Like to come to my house and play.
A: Curly hair, princess, tall
Q: Describe your bedroom.
A: It's pink and purple. No, I don't have my own bedroom. I share with Katie.
Q: What is your family like?
A: My family is Mama, Daddy, Katie, and me. We have Rocky and Riley, cats.
Q: Describe your pets.
A: They act like, uh...Riley, when you mess around with him, he bites. Rocky is very nice.
Q: What is your favorite thing about yourself? What is your least favorite?
A: I get dressed by myself. I don't like when Daddy says, "You're going in time out."
Q: What is your biggest pet peeve?
A: I don't like a lot Daddy brushing my teeth.
Q: What are you afraid of?
A: I'm afraid of a witch at Halloween. I'm afraid when someone scares me.
Q: What do you want but can't have?
A: Toys. The light up toys I saw at the fireworks.
Q: Who is your best friend?
A: Mansvini
Q: Who is your worst enemy?
A: Hayden
Q: What do you want people to know about you but are afraid to share?
A: I will give you a card. Like to come to my house and play.
Sometimes....
Sometimes at a small table in the local coffee shop,
I close my eyes and see nothing--peace.
I smell the warm, brisk, white chocolate mocha sitting in front of me.
I taste the dark chocolate espresso bean I lifted from the top of my cup.
I hear others talking quietly about their lives--his new job, her wedding dress, selling the house, the hours at the restaurant.
I hear fingertips tying on laptops,
I hear bells jingling, ringing as the door sweeps open and customers slide in.
I hear a new cup slipped into a cup holder and set on the counter.
I hear the bakery case open and an employee slide a pastry out.
I hear a swipe of a credit card or the clinging of loose change.
I feel the warmth of the coffee in my cup and the stillness of my soul.
I see young and old, men and women, groups and individuals, crowded spots, and empty seats.
The shop is busy; people are moving in all directions to work, to school, to the hospital, home after the late night shift.
But in my chair at a small table in the local coffee shop, my life, for a few moments is quiet and still.
I close my eyes and see nothing--peace.
I smell the warm, brisk, white chocolate mocha sitting in front of me.
I taste the dark chocolate espresso bean I lifted from the top of my cup.
I hear others talking quietly about their lives--his new job, her wedding dress, selling the house, the hours at the restaurant.
I hear fingertips tying on laptops,
I hear bells jingling, ringing as the door sweeps open and customers slide in.
I hear a new cup slipped into a cup holder and set on the counter.
I hear the bakery case open and an employee slide a pastry out.
I hear a swipe of a credit card or the clinging of loose change.
I feel the warmth of the coffee in my cup and the stillness of my soul.
I see young and old, men and women, groups and individuals, crowded spots, and empty seats.
The shop is busy; people are moving in all directions to work, to school, to the hospital, home after the late night shift.
But in my chair at a small table in the local coffee shop, my life, for a few moments is quiet and still.
Monday, June 24, 2013
Getting Started/Becoming A Writer
The first steps to becoming a writer sound easy to me--read and write. I always have a stack of books waiting to be read, and I spend a lot of time with words. Here's to making time to do both daily this summer!
I have been the best at keeping a journal/writer's notebook when I write with my students. In the last two years, I have gotten away from daily journaling. I had fun looking at the Eco Jot Notebooks Kate suggested. I picked one out for me and two for the girls. We'll see how carrying it with me works. Hopefully, I can also teach them young to get into the habit. I'm collecting my writing in response to Teachers Write! in this blog. So I am also wondering if technology would work for me as a journal. My habits might change this summer, but more often than not, I have a phone or device with me instead of a journal and pencil.
Why is writing important to me? Writing is important to me because it gives me a chance to think about what to think and records thoughts and ideas so I can remember them.
I have been the best at keeping a journal/writer's notebook when I write with my students. In the last two years, I have gotten away from daily journaling. I had fun looking at the Eco Jot Notebooks Kate suggested. I picked one out for me and two for the girls. We'll see how carrying it with me works. Hopefully, I can also teach them young to get into the habit. I'm collecting my writing in response to Teachers Write! in this blog. So I am also wondering if technology would work for me as a journal. My habits might change this summer, but more often than not, I have a phone or device with me instead of a journal and pencil.
Why is writing important to me? Writing is important to me because it gives me a chance to think about what to think and records thoughts and ideas so I can remember them.
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