Sorry, not a recipe. Or maybe it is.
I rarely volunteer for things going on in my community. Good things people are doing for others. I’ve served on a few boards and visited Hospice patients over the years of my retirement but I never feel that I’m making much of a difference. Again this year I was asked to teach a class on writing to kids in grades 4 through 6 at the Assumption Catholic School. My able assistant is Teri McKusky. Having taught seniors at Hibbing High School for many years I’d have to turn things down a few notches. Our goals were simple . . . instill a love of writing in young people.
Mostly I want to encourage kids to use their imagination and tell stories. To do so I find myself telling stories as it comes naturally to me. Yesterday I got them started on a story where the boy or girl (their choice of course) found a mysterious trail into the forest. Being adventuresome, I brought them to a fork in the road where continuing on the trail seemed a safe thing to do, but taking a much narrower trail that had a ‘No Trespassing’ sign and seemed to wind up a treacherous hill. There was something intriguing on the top of the hill. Just to add an element of destiny, whichever way they went there was something very special that they found. Some so scary that they raced out of the woods to their Grandma’s house. Grandma took the object into her hands and told the boy/girl that they had found something magical.
Next Monday we’ll see how the kids create a series of missing details. I told them that they were not to share with any others in the class what they had written. In other words, keep their story secret for one week. What are the chances?
Their earlier assignment was to select from a list of ’emotions’ they came up with (happy, sad, guilty, embarrassed, ashamed, proud and others) them write a minimum of 100 words of a personal experience with the emotion they chose. I enjoyed reading them. It brought me back to elementary school for a few minutes. It’s a much different world out there but kids are still kids just as you and I were. It was ‘somethin’ good’.