Writing Reflection: Joy Squared

Writing makes my world go round. I've told my students this many times but I think they think I'm kidding. I think they think I say it because, as an English teacher, I have to impress on them the importance of communication skills. That is part of it but not the largest part.

The largest part has to do with joy and joy, I'm afraid, isn't an everyday feeling for everyone so I grab it whenever and wherever I can. These past few weeks there has been joy in watching my students delight themselves with word love and character development and plot building. Earlier today, after giving her some feedback, one of my student's said, "Oh, I can see it all in my head now; I need to go write it down fast" and she left with a smile lighting her face. She exhibited such abandon to her own creativity and writing, it left me with a thrill and a chill.

And there is, too, the joy of being able to play seriously with my own writing during the school day. There are two benefits of this. One, it models my writing process to my students and proves my willingness to do myself what I ask of them. Two, truth be told, as much ego as I derive from writing, the school year affords little time to engage and invest in it as I would like. This unit has given me an opportunity to double dip... teaching and writing and writing and teaching all at once.

For me, doing the writing activities was useful because they allowed me to brainstorm a lot of starts for different creative pieces. My favorite were the flash stories and I got some good writing out of my word list. The flash poems were difficult for me because I don't consider myself to be a particular poetic thinker (I think all the swearing in my head gets in the way).

In any case, I want to thank the excellent young writers in Room 311 for allowing me the quiet space and creative energy necessary to get some serious writing done. I'll leave you with one of those flash poems that I never planned on having anyone see in print and that I'm totally uncomfortable posting because, after all, my students included risk in their definition of creativity.

A Chair -- A Corner -- An Empty Room
A child climbs up and in and changes everything.
Like an oven ticks alive, suddenly there is heat
The cushion sinks to her shape in memory of
The last time and the last time and the last time.
She rubs her small finger over the worn weave
And the weave remembers the loneliness of being a single thread
Before the loom.
The soles of the girls shoes barely clear the cushion.
She tucks her feet beneath her and curls into sleep.
Is it the girl that is dear?
It is the girl in the chair.