What’s the Story?

When I was a teacher (here comes that blue tuxedo again), I would sometimes post a picture on the board and have the students use it as a writing prompt.  National Geographic magazine was fabulous for this sort of thing.  Kids came up with all kinds of stories with those pictures…..some were more appropriate then others.

So I’m going to put up some pictures and have the reader decide what the story is.  Because I, quite frankly, have more questions about the pictures then I do facts about it.

Here are the girls working quietly at the table.  Look how engaged.  Pens and pencils out, tape being ripped off, Harper’s wiping sweat off her brow.  You might look at this and think, “Why doesn’t she homeschool?”

Look at that contemplation!  And Harper can barely write, but look how hard she’s working at it. One might think, “This is a story about a quiet afternoon of drawing and writing.”

But look closer.

They’re drawing toilets.

For forty-five minutes this is what they were quietly doing.  Never in my life have I seen such concentration.

I showed Jesse the pictures when he got home from work.  You know what he said?  “Hadley drew that?  That’s really good!”  And then wondered how I would write a post about this. I told him I wasn’t going to write about it.  He said, “Are you kidding?  This post writes itself!”

But does it?  I mean, where did they come up with the idea to draw potties?  And also?  Note the printed out picture of a toilet.  Someone had to print that out for them.  It was me.  Why did I do that?  What was going on in my head when the girls asked me, “Can you print out a picture of a potty so we can draw it?”  Honestly, I remember them asking me but I don’t know what happened from the time they asked to the time I walked over to the computer, googled, “toilets” and pressed print.  There has to be an excuse.

The best part is that Hadley’s friend was so proud of her drawing that she folded it up and carefully placed it in her bag so she could show her parents.  So I felt compelled to write her mom and say sorry that I allowed this kind of activity in my home.  It was strangely reminiscent of the time I had to come in from recess in first grade because I said, “butt.”  I was supposed to write my mom a note telling her what I did.  I said, “Dear Mom, Today in school I said, ‘butt.’  Love, Callie.”

My email was just about as well-written.