personal piece of the pie of writing....

my essay is currently ~4 pages. it's personal. honest. but valid...
i got some good feedback on it today. just need to tweak a few things here and there to make it more. more what? not sure, but i'll know it when i see it.
and then i find out i have to read it aloud next week. i think i'm gonna cry. not only is it pretty personal, i have pregnancy hormones wreaking havoc (LOVE that phrase!) on my emotional psyche right now.

and i'm off and... well, strolling, really

i've begun my personal piece. it took me quite a while just to get the 2 pages i have right now. i had to spend soooo much time writing to think inside my writer's notebook. it was kind of scary to think that i took pages upon pages, days upon days, and all i've got are two type-written, double-spaced pages to show for it.
i mean, i guess i have thoughts on paper that i could somehow at some point go back to. and it WAS really eye-opening as a writer. to think that i have to ask children to do this same thing...but yet, i don't have as much time--at least not in class--to give them.

decisions...

for my personal piece... i have to have a draft written by next tuesday. the biggest problem i was having was defining what i would write about. after something i witnessed @ the river this weekend that inspired a conversation with Josh and reminded me of some things from my past, together with my ideas about how my life will be changing to due Jaxon's impending future i think i have a base for my piece.

granted, i still have to get some exploratory writing done to really think it through--i don't know yet what it will be in its final embodiment, but i can see the common thread between the different pieces.

i will be writing about my thoughts, hopes, aspirations and fears on becoming a parent coupled with lessons i have learned from my father/stepfathers and through teaching. it should be an interesting piece.

i'll play with it and see what happens.

personal writing piece required for HoTWI

HoTWI (Heart of Texas Writing Institute)---it's a mouthfull, yes.


i'm trying to decide what i should write about for this personal piece... while at the same time trying to decide what to write about for my research piece as well. i've been listing ideas on my mind lately and trying to see what keeps coming up. what am i noticing?

at the top of my list are:

• the little baby growing inside of me

and

• who i am now versus who i will be when he is born

those are so personal--i guess hence the name. but in some ways, i'm not sure i would want everyone to read it... as will be the case when it is finished--i will be sharing it with my class. it just seems that these are topics that keep repeating in my mind, so these are things i, obviously, need to talk about.

inquiry project

so i'm participating in the Heart of Texas Writing Institute this summer--it's a 4 week intensive class @ UT and is part of the National Writing Project. in some ways it's kind of "crazy" to start a writing class the Monday following our last day of school. i literally got NO BREAK.

but i feel empowered in this setting. i am reminded again why, many times, i have spent well over an hour picking out a journal sometimes to come away empty-handed. i am reminded why i enjoy the product that comes from agonizing over word choice. i am reminded that i have a lot of work to do with my writing.

but it is also a good thing, because not only does this class seek to help me become a better writer, it seeks to enable me to do the same with my students. to help them see their lives and their writing through the lense of a writer--they DO have something vital and worthwhile to say.


all this being said, we have 3 major assignments--aside from all the reading and writing we are already doing.
the first is an inquiry project--

• what from my teaching concerns me or bothers me when it comes to writing?
  

the thing is, that is such a difficult question to answer. not because i am the best teacher in the world. trust me, i know i'm not. but really, because sometimes it's hard to admit one's own deficits... and when i contemplate and write them down, i'm not sure that these deficits are ones that easily lend themselves to research... which, by the way, is the 2nd major assignment--to research a topic and analyze student work.

ideas i've come up with are:

• autism and personal narrative writing (per our curriculum)
• crafting better conclusions
• various strategies for working/dealing with a variety of learners as writers
• helping students find their voice more readily in their writing
• quality peer conferences
• the variety of time needed to complete a process paper
• grading of writing
• just because you're done, doesn't mean the piece is completed
• quality revisions
• continuing the notebook throughout the school year
• dealing with "how long does it have to be" questions without completely avoiding them
• my own deficit thinking in regards to different writers in the classroom

as you can see, the topics are many....

and so i am left with the question--which one?


(oh, and btw-- the 3rd assignment is a personal piece... of whatever we want. THAT i can do.)

yes...

so the previous postings are not new, nor are they exclusive of this site, but they are favorite pieces of mine from the last year or so. looking back on them they still catch my eye and seek to remind me that i AM a writer, regardless of what my inner critic tells me. we are all writers, in some way. some of us write strictly to inform others. some of us write only in our heads or our journals. and some of us have a longggggggg way to go (me). but regardless we are writers.
i think if i can repeat this mantra in my head, i will begin to value my writing in that way and do a better job of making a habit out of it.

The Gravedigger

By the light of the pale, not quite full moon, with stars shimmering in the night sky, the fog rolled in. The mist seeped into the mind of a hopeless, forgotten soul who paced along the shadowy path, shovel weighing heavily on his shoulder, and his cold heart. He yearned for another chance to answer the question and to find the truth, but his time was fading as the moonlight waned. Mindlessly toiling through the dark night, the gravedigger's eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light and his ears tuned in to the whispering voices around him:

"Awaken to see what you are."

"Awaken to see what you've become."

"Awaken to see what you could be."

The last voice, always the most powerful, gave new meaning to the night that lay before him. It spoke to his soul, exciting him. He turned around to peer behind the aged oak whose leaves rustled in the wind, knotted fingers beckoning him. He hoped the time had finally come. As he climbed out of the finished tomb, he felt the slightest sense of foreboding. It was dangerous to be the one. But he knew the key to his future was just beyond.

In a daze, he trudged slowly across the midnight graveyard. The lure of what could be revealed pulled his heart further ahead and he forgot any sense of malice. Through the arbor gate he crept, whispering words of encouragement to himself. There, just ahead! A glint in the fading light. Just a hint of something to be treasured.

A seed.

Could it be? There was no precedent for this. He knew the dangers; he had studied them well, but he coveted it at once. For therein lay all he knew; all he sought and all he could possibly hope to know.

He fell to the ground in revered respect for the power contained in the tiny husk—all the knowledge of the universe—in this one place. He could not bring himself to rise. The air weighted him down—the hopes of all mankind standing on his back. On hands and knees he labored to reach the future. Past brambles tearing through the flesh on his face and gravel that shredded his skin, he dragged himself onward.

"The future is ours," he mumbled, as if a creed, under his breath. He hoped he hadn't spoken it aloud! He prayed it was only inside his head! But the instant the words tumbled past his dry, cracked lips, the wind grabbed on and carried the words to the heart of the Earth.

And she opened her ears, as she opened her eyes, and with a trembling and a low rumble, the gravedigger knew he had been too greedy. The seed would not be for him or any man. It was not fated. Succumbing to the will of the Earth, he closed his eyes for the last time, arm outstretched to grasp that which would not be. And as the seed returned to its rightful place, for the first time, the Earth smiled.

originally posted on 11.25.07 on myspace