Yesterday’s
writing products included two personal reflections, which I whipped out easily
once I focused on my topics, and two poems. I labored long and hard over the
poems, with the delivery of each taking much longer than the laid-back nature of
my prose musings. My unexpected block of time stemmed from taking a substitute
assignment with high school students who labored over their personal
narratives. We mirrored each other, faces scrunched in concentration as fingers
tapped quickly, hesitated, and then flew across our keyboards. My role as guide-on-the-side
left me with blocks of time to both think and write. In my teaching days, I
would have shared all of my pieces with my students to model my drafting
processes and discuss improvements to the end results. As a substitute, I only
share if the classroom teacher left instructions to work with the class. One
student yesterday queried about my writing, and I explained that I wrote a blog. She nodded her head absentmindedly, shifted her Chromebook for
me to see her assignment and offer my feedback. I always hope that my modeling
writing (and all of the messy processes that go with it) sends the message that
writing continues throughout a person’s life. It doesn’t end with school.
I
entered today’s campus with the knowledge that writing wouldn’t be an option
with first grade students. Imagine my delight when I found a student teacher in
the room, ready to take over the class! I did a happy dance because of this
unexpected treat of another block of time to write as I observe instead of
teach.
I
hauled my favorite pen and current spiral from my tote. I flipped through
yesterday’s lists, cross-outs and scribbles. I smugly stretched side to side,
flexed my fingers, and poised my ball-point over the blank page. And nothing
came. I inhaled, exhaled, shot my eyes around the room for inspiration
(elementary school teachers cover their walls with brilliance and imagination).
Nothing.
I
changed over to a computer, loaded Word onto the screen and fixated upon the
pulsing cursor on a blank screen and only two words came to me “brain dead.”
Ha! That’s all I needed!
Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
