Showing posts from October, 2012

HIdden Heartshots

They were here for under 24 hours.  Things shouldn't "disappear".  Four adults scoured the house,  looking for anything left behind  or forgotten.  But, slowly  throughout the week,  small heartshots revealed themselves  A pacifier  dropped as something new to explore was found. A sippy cup Abandoned in the excitement of being outside and dogs and balls and running A shirt nestled in the couch A package of wipes forgotten on the table. All found at different times  On different days bringing smiles in the midst of a busy week

Sometimes It Gets Ugly

I'm starting a personal narrative unit with my freshmen, so in looking for mentor texts, I decided to share a couple of blogs posts with them. I wanted them to see how to take a small, everyday moment and explode it into a piece of writing. I've discovered that since sharing with all of you on this blog, I don't mind sharing my writing with my students. It gives me another audience and it lets them see that when I talk about writing, I know a little something. As I was reading, I discovered something... I write a lot about the successes in my classroom. It sounds like a magical place to be. But It's not. Sometimes, it's just plain ugly. For every boy who comes in, excited about his poetry , there's five more who would rather do homework for other classes, check out Craig's list, and watch videos on YouTube.  By the way, the tech guy in our district called me one day when a boy was on Craig's List, that's how I know it happens.  The

What I Write

Letters and lists Plans and poetry and posts Tweets and To dos Status updates These are the things I write. Conversations with Chloe Sharing giggles with grandkids My love of the lake and my classroom. These are the things I write. A secret novel Mentor texts Comments for kids Ideas ideas ideas These are the things I write Hopes and fears Dreams Regrets Loves and hates These are the things I write...

What I Didn't Intend to Write

I didn't intend to write a post like this today. I intended to write a poem about fall at the lake, or a review of The Raven Boys, or ...well, anything but this. Shots were fired in a small town to the south of us. Our school district is not in lock down, although the schools closer are. It's scary. And here's what is worse. One of the shooters is rumored to be a former student of our district. As soon as his name was announced, there were shakes of the head. Kind of like, Yeah. That makes sense.   He always was trouble. And I know he could be.... He must be 25 or so now, but to me, he will always be 13 and sitting in my English class. Hair in his face. Doodling on his paper. Drawing cartoon characters. He almost never turned work in. When he did, it was a mess. Pencil smudges everywhere. He was often sent to the alternative classroom for behavior or late work. I remember his dad died after he left my class. Mom didn't have much control over the three boys (br

Why Do You Come To Work Every Day?

That's the question Bossman has asked us to discuss in our PLCs (Professional Learning Communities) during Wednesday's inservice time. Oh, there are other things scheduled. Other learning we will be doing. But this is the first task on the agenda.  I've been thinking about it for several days.  It's a question that hangs with me. Monday I came to school to begin our demonstration speech unit. I think it's my favorite speech.  I am privileged to sit and learn about the passions of my students--most of those passions I don't really have a working knowledge of, so it is truly a day of learning. Tuesday I came to school to wear J's volleyball button as she played her first JV game. She was nervous about moving up. I think she was worried about what her friends would think and what the JV players would think.  She did great. On Wednesday I had to come to school to chew on a student a little bit.  This young man is in my room twice a day. Once for speech. O

A Little Secret

Check out more Slice of Life at Two Writing Teachers. We're going to let you in on a little secret. Shhhhhh. Don't tell anyone. It's OK to write poetry in Creative Writing. No one makes fun of you. It's not girly. It's not "gay" (God how I hate that word). It's not stupid. It doesn't have to rhyme---or it can if you want. It can be about anything-- cars farming girls boys love suicide Anything at all. And we're pretty good at it too! Just don't tell anyone about it. We don't want them to think we're weird.