I recently attended a writing workshop. This is important and necessary because I am a teacher and I teach 4th graders to write. One of the strategies that we learned was to look around the room and find an object, write about that object, and see if that object leads us to an idea to write about. It works.
I looked around the room and could not get past the clock. I thought about time. I thought about how much time I didn’t have to get ready for the beginning of the school year. Then I thought about the school year ahead and, in particular, the first day of school. Then I thought about how much I would moan and groan when my mom would make my sister and me take our obligatory first day of school picture on the front porch every year. I thought about how we protested and as we got older we thought it was dumb and annoying. Then I thought about how much I missed it when I was a freshman in college, out of state, missing my family like crazy. My dad still likes to remind me of the 22 phone calls they received from me in the first 24 hours after dropping me off at the dorm that would be my home for that first year. Even with all that insecurity and fright I managed to work up the nerve to ask one of my fellow dorm mates to take my “First Day of School” picture. I mean, it’s tradition, right?
After years of figuring myself out...Graduate school thrown in there... last year I finally pursued my dream….of being rich! Just kidding. I became a teacher. Last year, I resurrected the “First Day of School” picture, but this time it was with my kids, in my very own classroom. It’s that time again and once again I took that picture. It’s funny how there are some traditions you just can’t seem to quit.
My parents both blog on this site and I often read what they write, but never really thought about participating myself. Back to that writing workshop...I decided to make a goal for myself to write every day, so I might pop up from time to time. My dad, who is a frequent blogger and retired attorney, would (out of love and concern, I’m sure) edit my writing with a red felt tipped pen and a legal pad full of notes when I was a kid, but hey we’ve all been there, that’s second grade, right? Anyway, I am better for it. For those of you willing to put up with me, thank you. As my dad would say, “Write what you know,” and I know that to be able to successfully teach writing I need to be doing a lot more of it on my end.