Be Careful what you're Good At....

 I've been stuck in 4th grade since 2016. Can't seem to find my way back to 6th grade...truth is, I kinda like it here. I teach with a couple of younger gals that are a boatload of fun. They keep me in line; listen to my BS and even placate my ego from time to time. So it is that I'm teaching a Creative Writing class to the High Fliers of fourth grade. Brekka has a Masters in Reading Instuction and voluteered to work with those that struggle with all things Literacy. Krista took the "middle of the road" kids and is learning right along with them and because I write huntin' stories and peck out a Blog every once in a while, that qualified me to take the high kids to the next level.

Last week we worked on paiting a picture through artful word choice and the careful use of our 5 senses. At the time, none of us could even name all five senses, myself included....after a Google Search we listed them on the board and practiced writing about SIGHT - SOUND - SMELL - TASTE and TOUCH. We used a picture of a lush green countryside as our Demo.

Today, we upped our game and tried catchy, Introductory Paragraphs. Aiden defined for us "the Hook."

When I set them free to write - I modeled the same expectations and wrote right along side of them. 

The following is what I came up with.

As the morning sun burnt off the last little bit of fog that clung to the hillside, I wondered if I would ever see her again. The woman that stole my heart grew up in these hills. It was here that we spent the afternoon giggling over a hastily packed picnic some three years earlier. And now she’s gone. But here I sit in the dew covered grass, listening to the acorns gently fall to the ground and wonder if she’s thinking about me….wherever she is. Does she remember our walks down the lonely gravel roads? Hand in hand – without a care in the world. Does she remember the time we spent chasing the croaking frogs in the cool waters of Strawberry Creek? Did our strolls through the ripened orchard mean as much to her as they meant to me? And now she’s gone.

 

As she left for her homeroom, Morgan exclaimed, "Mr. Kirby's writing a LOVE story!"

Who knew? 

Editor's Note: I swear this is Romantic FICTION.