Happenings

As a writer, it is very easy to simply tell our reader what is happening in our story and how the characters are feeling.  However, a powerful writer doesn’t just tell their readers the information, they create an experience for the reader so that they too can live and feel the event.  This strategy is called “Show Me, Don’t Tell Me”.  Today, I would like you to try out this strategy on the sample below.  Please read the sample sentence, and then in your comment I would like you to revise the sentence by adding details and descriptions (using author’s craft tools as well) to “Show” the reader what is happening instead of just telling them as the sentence does now.  You will find that when you “show” your reader the event instead of just telling them, you will automatically slow down the moment and have a longer writing sample to share with your reader. You may add ideas to make it your own.  Please revise this sentence:

I felt very scared when I walked into the hot room.

I had an ah-ha moment this past week, but I’m not really sure what to do about it at this point. As a grade level we have been focusing our writing instruction on showing action and reaction of the characters in our piece. Basically, this involves the characters sharing their reactions and feelings. It’s been quite the struggle getting my kids to put emotions into their writing. The few that have attempted it have been very cautious about who they share their pieces with and in the event that they start crying while they share, they try very hard to hide it from others. That’s when it hit me, the magic that their writing needs is the personal touch that comes from adding emotions that truly come from the heart. I realized that they are afraid to do it though, they are afraid to show their true feelings out of fear of being laughed at.

I probably haven’t been a very good role model when it comes to adding emotions this year, I suppose in many ways I feel the way some of my students do…I question whether or not the support is there. How will they react if they see their teacher crying over a heart wrenching story? Will it touch their heart and make them realize the power that comes from a story that has true emotions embedded within it? Or, will it just be an opportunity to talk about just another something crazy that their teacher did?

How can I expect them to unlock their hearts and let their emotions guide their writing when I myself am having trouble doing it?

For years my father has been after me to continue my education, to go back to school, to learn more, to be more, to do more…and I always had an excuse as to why I couldn’t. My reasons ranged from there just not being time (although I realize that if I truly wanted to I could make the time) to not having the money (again, not truly an issue if I really wanted to do it). Now, however, I can look back with the realization that those reasons were truly just excuses. The actual reason as to why I never wanted to go back to school was rooted in the fact that I just wasn’t interested in any of the masters degree programs that were available…until recently.

As many of us know there has been an increased emphasis on integrating technology into the classroom. At first, I found that emphasis frightening due to the fact that I just wasn’t sure how to do it. Oh, I knew what projects were available, I just didn’t know how to implement them within my regular curriculum. In addition, I often times just didn’t have the technological knowledge or tools at my disposal in order to complete that which I knew I should be doing. Furthermore, I also viewed the technology component as just one more thing I needed to try to fit into my day (obviously I didn’t understand the idea of integrating technology).

Then, an opportunity came my way to be part of a technology committee at my school. An opportunity with I was excited to embark upon, yet still a bit hesitant. A million questions flooded my mind. Would I be able to learn all I needed to in order to assist my colleagues? Would I be able to offer them support that would be beneficial? Would this be a worthwhile commitment or yet another endeavor that I would dread participating in simply because I didn’t have the time?

Thankfully, all of my questions were answered in an extremely positive light. I have truly enjoyed being on the technology committee and through my participation I have been given even more opportunities and also had some enlightening moments as well.

One such opportunity was given to me last summer when I attended NECC in San Antonio. I found myself a bit intimidated at first by the entire prospect of attending a technology conference. I was certain that the everyone there would know more that I did and be more capable than I in every aspect of technology. I was pleasantly surprised though to realize that many of the teachers in attendance were in the same boat as I. Many of us were there to see if we could take away just a small tidbit of technological learning that we could take back to our classrooms.

I attended many interesting sessions ranging from an introduction to podcasting (and a realization that I actually DID know what a podcast was), a session based off of using computer generated comic books and trading cards to enhance reading comprehension from Read, Write, Think, creating a school newscast, and my favorite was an interactive website called Into the Book that helps develop critical thinking skills in young readers.

All in all my experience at NECC was exciting, inspiring, and a tad bit overwhelming, but I left with a new focus. I came back to my classroom a more open mind about the role technology can play in my day-to-day classroom activities (although I still need some support in the actual integration) and with a new sense of vision as far as furthering my education. I came back having made a decision that when the time is right, technology is the direction I want to take in terms of pursuing my masters degree.

S-M-A-C-K went the fish as it flew through the air. WHAT? That just doesn’t sound right does it? But I am here to tell you that’s exactly how it went…with some human intervention of course!

It all occurred one lazy summer afternoon on the banks of Lake Beorge in Mammoth Lakes, CA. Our family had been fishing for nary an hour when the first fish of the day was caught (sadly, it was not by me). Jan, my grandad’s friend, had hooked a small fish and quickly reeled it in though the water that lapped the edges of the lake. The slimy, scaly fish glistened in the sunlight as it lay flopping in the shallow water.

“Jan, I think he’s too small. YOu’d better throw him back,” my grandad whispered sheepishly to her.

With that, Jan knelt over to firmly grasp the tiny fish in order to degouge the hook from his throat. ONce hte hook was removed she reached back with the fish in hand to hurl him towards the lake with the might of a Louisville slugger. Only her aim was not that of a first rate picther…and instead of landing gently into the lake he flew through the air and…S-M-A-C-K…right up against a tree!

Our day of fishing didn’t end there however when the poor little fish had met an untimely death as he flew
into the tree. He lay there floating lifelessly in the water at the tree’s feet while our fishing rods darted back and forth from the center of the lake HOPING to catch another.

And finally we did…but sadly…once again it wasn’t I who saw the tip of the fishing pole dancing in the breeze to tell me that there was a bit. “Oooohhhh! I’ve got another fantastic fish!” Jan squeeled.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t kill this one,” I muttered under mybreath. Jan quickly and quietly reeled in her line whiel the rest of us watch with baited (no pun intended) breath to see if this would be the big catch of the day. At last we began to see a ripple in the water to indicate that the fish was near and the…flip, flip, flop…we were disappointed once again to see a bitty baby fish floppin on the shores of the lake. His eyes looked sadly up at us crying “Please, I don’t want to die!”

“Drats!” Jan garbled, “He’s too small too…I guess I’ll have to throw him back as well.”

With that-Jan knelt over to firmly grasp the tiny fish in order to degouge the hook from his throat. ONce hte hook was removed she reached back with the fish in hand to hurl him towards the lake with the might of a Louisville slugger. The fish flew gracefully past the trees towards the cool blue waters of the lake. “Phew!” I chorgled, “Looks like this one made it!”

No sooner had I uttered the wrods than a giant white gull flew sneakily from the tree tops screaming “Lunch, lunch, lunch…”, scooped down towards the water and swallowed our bitty baby fish in one gulp!

“That’s it!” I exclaimed, “Time for our fishing poles to say goodbye! Killing 2 baby fish in one day is QUITE enough for me!”

photo credit: tedkerwin

Where exactly did I go wrong in training my dog? Why does my German Shepherd Timber believe that he is king of the Hulburt household? I’m not really sure where this holier-than-thou attitude originated from, or whether I even perpetuated it or not…however Timbers seems to truly believe that he reigns superior over his castle. This mind set was never more evident than one cold winter night when Mr. Hulburt had arrived home late from work.

Earlier that evening the kids and I had snuggled into bed together to keep warm. Unable to resist the temptation of snuggling up against our toasty warm bodies, Timber lept stealthily up onto the bed to lay down with us. However, Timber is not the typical dog who would be content to curl up at our feet. No, no, no…that simply would not do! Timber felt that he deserved a pillow and blankie too. So, he sauntered up to the head of the bed where he promptly pawed the covers until he had the perfect place to lay down. Upon plopping down onto his side, he gently laid his head down on the pillow with a hefty sigh. (I suppose I didn’t help the situation much when I reached over and covered him up with the blanket).

So there we lay-snoring and snoozing-Timber and I sleeping soundly on the edges of the bed with the kids nestled safely between us. When Mr. Hulburt arrived home late that night he was tired and wanted nothing more than to climb into bed. So he quietly began to shake Timber in an effort to wake him and make him move. No luck! So he shook a little harder and angrily whispered “Timber! Let’s Go! Get down!” A gesture that was met with a deep growl from Timber, who raised his head and glared deeply into my husband’s eyes as if to say, “Do you mind? I’m trying to sleep here!” The deep throated rumbling growl was enought to shock Mr. Hulburt who quickly turned and stomped out of the room to sleep on the couch.

And Timber? Well, he calmly lowered his head back onto the pillow and drifted back into doggy dreamland for the rest of the night. At that moment, he must have surely believed himself to be King of the Castle. But isn’t that how a dog is supposed to feel?

Greasemonkey

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My state of mind right now simply put is stressed! Thanks to the help of some of my students I got a lot of work done at school today, but it seems as if everything else is going haywire. Not bad exactly, just not within the realm of my wishes. Nothing seems to be going the way I intend. My mind is spinning out of control. Control…

Control is out of reach

Taunting and tricking you with every breath

Luring you into a false sense of security

And then snatching it out from under you

Just when you think you have protected them all

It spirals away from you

Reminding you that it has a mind of its own

Control is

An illusion

This week’s post is written on a sad note for me. I was told tonight that my parents will be taking their 14 year old German Shepherd, Shadow, to the vet in the morning. It is time to say goodbye. Her old body has given way and no medicine can take away her pain any longer. It is time to say goodbye…

Shadow came to live with them when she was about 4 months old in November of 1994. True to her name, she was always following my mom around…her little Shadow. Over the years Shadow played an integral part in all of our lives. She was my mom’s baby (and a spoiled baby she was!), she was Timber’s “sister” (teaching him right from wrong…and yes-even getting him in trouble some when they were young), she was Sophie’s teacher (let’s just say that Sophie needed SOMEONE to teach her that she wasn’t top dog in every household) and she was our third dog (even though she only lived with us when my parents went on vacation-our home was her 2nd home…and she knew it too). When she came to stay with us, she became my shadow. She slept at the foot our my bed each night, and followed me everywhere I went even if I was only stepping out of the room for a minute. She had a favorite spot where she liked to lay-right between the dining room table and front window. From this position she had the perfect view of the street…and the kitchen to see anybody who came into the house. I suppose on some level she was also remembering all of those Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners where many tasty morsels fell from the table to the floor (compliments of Carrie & Christopher) which she promptly scarfed up and was hoping that there would be more if she waited there long enough. She was such a sweet dog, sweeter than you could ever imagine. Her giant chocolate brown eyes were windows to the love that she held in her heart for each and every one of us. She especially loved the kids. They too spoiled her and took great care of their Grandmommy & Grandaddy’s dog. They even went so far as to spoon feed her when she refused to eat (okay…as an old dog she had a few little personality quirks that we had to find some creative solutions too)

It feels strange to be typing the word “was”…I know she is still here in body…at least for now…but I also know that she is not the Shadow I know and love right now. Right now she is hurting, not happy and playful. Right now she is in pain and it is time to say goodbye. I know that this decision, as heart wrenching as it is for my parents is the right one. I know that Shadow will now be free from the body that has failed her and given her grief. She will be waiting for us in Dog Heaven, and will be greated by our other canine friends. Shogun, Shaira, Sama, Shiloh, Tigger, Blue, and Lobo…please take care of my Shadow.

Goodbye Shadow. We will see you in our dreams and hearts…forever.

It has been said to me many a time that a little boy and a puddle are just like magnets and will eventually attract. I suppose I should have remembered that, and even thought twice, before I took my son on a hike…along a cold mountain creek!

It all began last June late in the afternoon. My family and I were on our yearly pilgrimage to Mammoth Lakes, CA and were truly enjoying the beauty of the mountains. Having come to Mammoth Lakes for many years (since I was younger than my own children) I was very familiar with the area. or rather very familiar with certain features of the area. There were however many hikes and adventures I had never been on. It was for this reason that we decided this year, to take a hike or two into unchartered territory (at least for us anyway). And that is just what we did. This late afternoon, we were going to take the treacherous hike back to T.J. and Barrett Lakes.

We began our journey by driving up the winding mountain road towards the lakes basin and parked our car in the lot near Lake George. After tying our jackets around our waists and tightening up our hiking boots we began what appeared to be an easy hike around Lake George to the trail head. Easy on the body anyway-not so easy on an eight year old boy when he saw the rushing creek up ahead. “Oooooo…look at the water! How are we going to get across it?” Christopher asked excitedly.

Inside I was groaning for I knew just what he wanted to do..he wanted to walk through the cold creek. I’m sure at the moment that would be quite fun for him, it would however make the rest of the hike unbearable for the rest of use because we would have to listen to him complain about his wet boots. “We’ll find a way, don’t worry…” I answered firmly.

“Oh, I’m not worried!” he replied sheepishly.

Thankfully, as we approached the creek, which ran about 3 inches deep, my husband was able to create a path of small boulders for us to step on. Success! “Yes!” I thought to myself “One catastrophe averted!”

Our family of 4 continued on our way up the mountain side towards T.J. and Barret Lakes. It was most certainly not an easy climb, although not so difficult that we turned back however. Once we arrived at the lakes we spent a short while sitting beside the clear water’s edge sipping on cool water bottled to reenergize ourselves and watching the fish swim in the lakes. It was one of the most beautiful sites I have ever seen.

After we were well rested we decided not to return to our car via the trail, but instead chose to follow the creek downstream to the lake and then walk alongside the lake back to our vehicle. We were getting hungry, and it was close to dinnertime so we figured this would get us home sooner. MISTAKE #1!

As we began walking downhill, we came upon several LARGE snow drifts that had not melted yet in the summer sun. They were sloppy, slushy snow drifts that our feet sunk into with each step we took. It was inevitable…with conditions like this our feet were bound and determined to get wet. Yet we forged on…determined to finish our adventure in the manner of true outdoorsmen, after all…who needed a trail to follow? MISTAKE #2!

Now, anyone who has spent time near melting snow drifts knows that underneath what appears to be a solid piece of snow likes dripping water and tiny streams of runoff. And anyone who has been near dripping water and runoff in the mountains knows that only one thing can be created in such a situation…MUD!

I should add at this moment that we were all getting rather tired-the hike down the hill was much more difficult than the hike up the trail and we found ourselves slipping and sliding with each step we took. Finally though, we emerged at the edge of the lake next to a tiny abandoned cabin with a huge snow drift next to it…that was just perfect for sliding down! MISTAKE #3!

So, as tired as they were, Carrie & Christopher summoned up the energy to plop their bottoms onto the icy drift and slide down the hill (thank goodness they avoided the mud puddle at the bottom of the drift-boy would THAT have been messy!). As soon as they reached the bottom they both bounded for the side of the lake where we could see a trail that would lead us back to the car. SPLAT! “What was that?” I asked as I heard a slopping sucking sound. When I looked over my shoulder I could see my Christopher pulling his boot out of what appeared to be about 4 inches of mud. Even the bottom of his jeans were muddy. “Ugh!” I groaned. He however simply smiled at me and yelled “COOL!”. I didn’t say anything…just rolled my eyes and began walking ahead of the kids on the trail…MISTAKE #4!

I should have stayed beside them. I should have guided them along the trail. I should have said something about the mud and how we needed to keep his boots dry. But I didn’t…like I said…mistake #4. As we rounded the bend toward the end of the trail we once again approached the same rushing creek. Now remember…I’m walking ahead of the kids, they are tired and lagging behind quite a bit, but I knew they were safe and couldn’t get lost on a trail that was so simple and close to the car.

Once I came nearer to the creek, I carefully stepped onto the same small boulders that my husband had laid out as I crossed the creek. I carefully made my way across so that my boots wouldn’t get wet. And then I kept walking…leaving the kids behind. A few short minutes later Mike & I realized that we hadn’t heard anything form the kids so we quickly glanced back to make sure they were okay. Once I saw them, I wanted to scream…and I did, “Christopher! Stay out of the creek!” But I was too late. I stood in horror as I watched my little guy traipsing back and forth through the creek splashing water from here to kingdom-come! Water was spraying everywhere-I just knew he was going to be drenched!

I rapidly darted down the dusty path back towards the creek to put a stop to this behavior, afterall, now his boots would be wet (and hiking boots take FOREVER to dry out), his socks would be drenched, his jeans would be sopping, and I just knew he would complain all the way back to our cabin. “Christopher! What in the world are you doing! Get out of there…that water is too cold…your going to get sopping wet! Why in teh world are you walking through the water like that?”

Once again…the sheepish grin…”My boots were dirty. I thought you’d want me to wash them before I got in the van.”

I had to hold back a giggle on that one…instead I managed to look at him condescendingly and calmly say “Christopher…next time…STAY OUT OF THE CREEK!”

Little boys and puddles…little boys and creeks…a true magnetic attraction!

photo credit: patrick dentler

Now, students, please post a quality comment on this week’s entry. Remember to tell the author what you liked about the piece (maybe it was a powerful line, a personal connection, flashy vocab, the picture the story painted for you, author’s crafting tools, etc.). After you tell the author something good about the piece, let them know what area you think they could improve and HOW they can do that (remember EVERY author has room for improvement). Finally, let the author know what you would like from them next…do you have any questions about this piece? Would you like to hear more stories like this one? What can this writer do for you as their reader?

It was a warm July afternoon when my family and I pulled into our driveway after a long vacation to California and Montana to a pleasant surprise. After unloading our van, I walked across the front yard to check the mail. Stepping over the brick wall and heading towards the mail box I just happened to glance up towards the corner of the porch ceiling and noticed what appeared to be a cake of mud smacked onto the eaves. “What in the world is that?” I asked myself. I gingerly stepped up onto a bench to take a better look.

“Oh my,” I whispered, “Carrie, Christopher come here…quietly!” I was so excited to show them the Barn Swallow nest that I had discovered. We had seen these beautiful black birds flying throughout the neighborhood, but had never seen a nest like this so close.

“I’m too tired, I want to go in and go to bed!” Carrie whined.

“Do I have to?????” grumbled Christopher.

“Just trust me,” I replied, “I think you’re going to want to see our visitors.”

The kids turned and looked at each other with puzzled expressions and said in unison “Visitors?” before dragging their tired bodies across the front yard. As soon as they stepped under the porch they followed my gaze into the corner of the eaves…where what to our wondering eyes did appear but a tiny mama barn swallow sitting on a nest of caked mud.

“Oh look at her!” Carrie squealed softly, “Do you think she has any eggs in there?”

“I bet she does, or else she wouldn’t be sitting there like that,” Christopher replied.

“Well,” I said softly, “we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Each day from that moment, we avoided using the front door in order to avoid disturbing our little friends. We even went so far as to hang a screen beneath the nest just in case…just in case there were baby birds in there and they accidentally fell out. Each day, from that moment on we would carefully crack open the front door and peer silently at the nest to see if we had any new arrivals. Each day from that moment on, it was the same-Mama Bird sitting on the nest, and Papa Bird sitting on the edge of the screen beside her. That is until…

One day we peered out the front door to find that Mama and Papa were gone…but peeking over the edge of the nest were 2 tiny bald heads with big fat yellow beaks. “We have babies!” we happily told our family and friends. We watched those babies grow each day, we watched the Mama and Papa come back to feed them, and when the 2 baby birds grew bigger, we watched Mama Bird sleep beside Papa on the screen so that the babies could have the nest, and eventually we listened to the babies cry when they became hungry. We watched and watched…until one day they were gone…all of them. The babies flew the coop and an empty nest remained. On occasion we would see the grown up babies (and let me tell you if you thought human children grow up fast you ought to watch a baby bird grow…it happens at lightening speed!) come back and sit on the ledge near the nest, but we thought that our experience with Barn Swallows and their babies was over.

That is until one day about 2 weeks ago…Carrie had stepped out to get the mail and Mama Bird was back on the nest. “I think they laid more eggs.” she reported when she stepped inside.

Once again I uttered the words, “Well, we’ll just have to wait and see.”

We didn’t have to wait long, just a few days later Mr. Hulburt reported that he had found a broken egg shell laying on the concrete beneath the nest. The kids and I darted quickly outside (although quietly) and sure enough, as we peeked into the nest we saw movement and suddenly three tiny bald heads with large yellow beaks poked over the edge of the nest! This time there were 3!

photo credit: the superash

The cycle continues…we watch Mama come back to feed the babies, we watch Mama & Papa sleep beside the nest, we listen to the babies chirp when they are hungry, and soon, very soon I’m sure we will see them take their first flight. And then again, we will be faced with an empty nest…it’s sad to think about it-because we have truly enjoyed watching our baby birds grow, we can only hope that there will be more eggs and baby birds to come.

Now, students, please post a quality comment on this week’s entry. Remember to tell the author what you liked about the piece (maybe it was a powerful line, a personal connection, flashy vocab, the picture the story painted for you, etc.). After you tell the author something good about the piece, let them know what area you think they could improve and HOW they can do that (remember EVERY author has room for improvement). Finally, let the author know what you would like from them next…do you have any questions about this piece? Would you like to hear more stories like this one? What can this writer do for you as their reader?