A new stack of books for my second to last packet before I enter my second year of graduate school. I heard Shannon Huffman Polson read from her writing last year in Santa Fe. Listening to others read from their work is probably my favorite thing about the residencies.
A couple of pictures from the Creativity Journals my friend and I made for the class we are teaching. The first class was this week and it was wonderful. I was pretty nervous about teaching again but as soon as I started it was like putting on my favorite pair of jeans.
Hadley brought home a flower pot with daisy seeds in it from Girl Scouts last week. I put it on our table with pencils, scissors, glue sticks and washi tape. They sit on a bowl that a group of sixth graders made for me years ago when I was their teacher. They took a line from an essay of mine and painted it on the bowl, then signed their names on the bottom. The line is: “Maybe someday when they’re sitting in my classroom, my students will open a gift that God has given them. That’s why I am a teacher.”
The dogwood trees have bloomed and Harper calls them, “ballerina trees.” On our walks she collects the pink pedals that have fallen to the ground and carries them around with her until their edges are brown.
My best friend from high school is getting married in May. That’s us at our Senior PROM. I wrote an essay about she and I growing up and it submitted it in my graduate school application. Here’s a part from it that describes a road in our neighborhood.* She and I used to drive it because its path took the same route as the Des Plaines River, making it curvy and fun to drive fast on.
“A part of the road branches off and becomes a dirt road that’s bumpy and swerves more than the main part. I think it’s a driveway or alley that is no longer used. I never drive this part. I don’t have it memorized like I do the main road. To drive this road you have to be the kind of driver who is OK with seeing only a few feet ahead of you. You have to be OK with sharp turns and wheels that might slip in the gravel. This is the part Celena drives. She drives it fast and at night when it is even harder to see what’s going on. I love riding along with her; it is both thrilling and terrifying, and I trade off laughing and screaming as we barrel down this tattered old road.
The day Celena falls during practice, I drive down my part of the road. The oak trees on either side are thick with large green leaves, their branches stretching out so that I drive under a green ceiling; bits of sun peeking in sprinkling glittery flecks on my windshield. Celena would have noticed this, I think. I make a note to tell her about it sometime.”
*Some of you who read this will recognize that I combined two roads. One of them is Thatcher and the other is the one we used to call “the Booya road.” Or maybe that was me who just called it that. At any rate, I combined them for the sake of the story.
I loved hearing Brian Doyle read from his work at FFW. In fact, he was one of my favorites. I think his session is available on audio, in case you didn’t hear it. He’s one of those writers who not only can write a story but also tell a story.
I heard him at the FFW! His was my favorite presentation, which is why I bought his books. I agree, he can both write and tell a fabulous story.
i love that you are teaching again. congrats to celena!