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Learn by Writing

5/17/2016

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“Learn as much by writing as by reading.” ~Lord Acton

What did Lord Acton mean? I think I know because I learn so much from writing. I learn things about myself – the things that I am thinking subconsciously are often brought to the surface and explored when I put pen to paper. My feelings about people, places, objects, and events can be described, explained, rediscovered.

When I was in elementary school and junior high, I was often in trouble with my mom. My punishment was time spent alone in my room and privileges revoked. I didn’t really mind because my grandparents had bought me a guitar.  I taught myself how to play, and then I began to write lyrics and put them to music. I was crazy about all the folk singers such as Carole King, Joan Baez, Joni Mitchell, Judy Collins, Cat Stevens, Carly Simon, and James Taylor. I knew every Peter, Paul, and Mary song. My favorite lyricist was Bob Dylan, although my parents complained that he sounded like a cat in heat and on the prowl. They always shouted up the stairs, “Turn the music – if you can call it that – down!”

Although my song-writing days ended by high school, I continued to enjoy writing stories and poems.  One thing about writing – you are always growing and changing as a writer. You are always in the process of arriving, but never really there. I’ve learned so much about the way I organize my thinking and what I’m most passionate about from looking at my writer’s notebooks and my published pieces. I’ve learned so much about the past, recalling bits and pieces of my life as I write about memories – the members of my family and favorite places.

My favorite thing to do is to write about family secrets  and family members. I guess all families have secrets.  My father’s cousin Ruth spilled the beans one day when she told me about my father’s first wife. First wife!?  I thought in sheer disbelief. Wasn’t my mother the only one? Did Mom know that Dad had been married before?   My dad married Mom at the age of forty-one. He had served in the army during World War II and apparently had taken a young wife just before he left for boot camp.  The marriage didn’t last very long. She was pretty, young, and willing to date other men while Dad was across the Atlantic. His buddies told him all about it when he returned, and that was the end to a very short marriage.
 
At this point in my life, writing is almost essential – a little like breathing in and out.  It is a catharsis, but largely speaks of my existence in this world and a need to share with others.  Writing is a big part of my life. I try to communicate the joy of writing with colleagues and the young writers I continue to observe and work with in my role as literacy consultant and Co-director of the Pennsylvania Writing & Literature Project.  Writing is a way for me to re-energize or relax. It is a joy to write every day. I feel I am living the life of a writer when I rise in the morning between five and six so I can have at least 40 minutes  of writing time to start my days.


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Lies A Fun Poem/Story Format

5/10/2016

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Lies is a fun story format that challenges students to include certain items or words in the text they create. You can also give them a genre or let them choose. My story is written as a poem. It is fantasy and includes the following:  three color words, two holidays, a season, Disneyland, two book characters, a food item, and a familiar quote from a classic or well-known tale.

Another way to do something like this is “Story in a Bag.” Place four to eight items in a bag and write a lead sentence on the board or chart. Let everyone get started writing off that lead. Then pull out one of the items such as a flashlight. Students have to work that item into the story in a way that makes sense. Place the item on a table in plain view. Then pull out the next item after a few items. It could be a pliers, eggbeater, plate, or notebook.   You can also occasionally write a word on the board or pull out a photo from the bag (such as the moon, a rainbow, a screen door). I liked to do this activity on a Friday afternoon to challenge my students to think on their feet and problem solve.  Believe it or not, it helped to develop writing fluency.  After three or four Fridays, I asked students to volunteer in partners to create a “Story in the Bag” and I joined the class to write.

“Book in a Bag” is a little different. Students give a book talk about a book they’ve read by finding four to five items (they can take photos or draw pictures or make sculptures out of clay as well) to tell about their book.  These items are placed in a paper bag. The students must include characters, setting, problem and genre.  Of course, they should not reveal how the story ends. Nonfiction books are also doable in this format.  

               “Under My Pillow: A Message”


Last winter when it snowed purple JELL-O
And hailstones fell as perfectly shaped diamonds,
The Easter Bunny appeared at Christmas time
And placed beautiful painted eggs
under the tree instead of presents.
Time ticked backwards and Winter became fall.
All the leaves changed blue and pink and silver.
Suddenly, Santa appeared in a sleigh
Pulled by eight plant-eating dinosaurs.
Santa handed out reindeer antler swim trunks
And free passes to Disneyland.
I closed my eyes for just one moment
And found myself falling down a long tunnel
Where I met Alice, the Dormouse, and the Mad Hatter.
They were looking for the Tooth Fairy because
Alice had lost a tooth and wasn’t at home
to place it under her pillow.
I blinked, and when I opened my eye
I was back again in my own bed
in my own bedroom….What a relief!
And then I had a strange feeling
That I should peek under my pillow
And to my surprise,
I found four quarters
and a note from the Queen of Hearts
that read, “Off with her head!”
 
 
 

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My Welsh Corgis

5/3/2016

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If you have grown up in a home where dogs are part of your family, you want them in your life as an adult. I fought to have a dog, even though my allergies to dust, ragweed, and animals with hair kept my mother battling with me for many years before giving in. For the past thirty years or more, I’ve had Welsh Corgis.

My dogs, Merri and Rhonda, are a mother-daughter pair. They are both beautiful dogs, read and whites, with personalities that match their spirit.  Always on the go, the Corgis team to greet guests rather enthusiastically, barking until the “new” people have been seated. Merri often runs to get a toy. She thinks everyone must engage in play with her, usually a game of tug-of-war.  Merri plays to keep a human interested in continuing her game. Rhonda plays to win!

The two of them are meet-and-greeters, and I cannot think of a better way to come home each day. There they are, waiting at the door for me because they’ve been curled up in the entranceway since the time I walked out the front door.  They do the same for my husband Ralph, coming into the den or kitchen occasionally to check up on me – then back to their post.

When either of us enter, there are cries of joy and much bouncing up and down. For Ralph, Merri runs to get a toy. If Ralph does not immediately grab onto the toy and tug, Merri looks around to find another one. Perhaps her human will be interested in that one!  I never feel lonely with my dogs in the house to keep me company.  They both love to cuddle, and Merri loves particularly to flip herself over so I can tickle her tummy. What a life!



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The Pact

5/1/2016

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When I was fourteen, I remember my love affair with horses bloomed. I dearly wanted one and had attended summer riding camp since I had turned nine, but my parents could not even begin to afford it. Horseback riding is an expensive sport with the cost of reading gear, boarding bills each month, blacksmith and vet bills, and horse show transportation and entry fees.

I was old enough to understand, but I did not want to give up my passion. The solution: I started working at the stables on weekends. My mom got up extra early to drive me to the barn on Sheaff Lane, up the gravel driveway, long and bumpy, in our faithful Rambler.  She handed me a paperbag lunch – a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on white bread with the crusts cut off.  I’d see her again at precisely five – Mom was always on time.

My parents and I had a deal: I would keep up my grades (by that they meant that I would receive an “A” in every subject – or no less than an occasional “B”), and I would be rewarded with stable time. It seemed fair to me, and I knew I could hold up my end of the bargain. I made every minute in school count, paying attention and doing all the assignments on time and sometimes ahead of time. In high school, I studied until wee morning hours for exams to maintain my “A” average each year, but it was always more than a grade.  I needed horses like I needed air.
 
Each Saturday and Sunday I mucked stalls, groomed horses, cleaned tack, and led ponies around and around the ring on a lead shank to teach young children how to post to the trot. My favorite ponies were Oswald and Jungle Juice – they were the best teachers ever!  By summer of my fourteenth year, my riding instructor made me a junior counselor at summer camp, and I helped to give lessons. My expertise was getting new riders started. Throughout the seasons, I taught students from the age of four to the age of sixty-four!

Sometimes, I got a free riding lesson for my efforts. Sometimes, I took people on the trails through Whitemarsh. Each time, I got to be with horses and breathe it all in.  I loved every moment of it. The weekends were something to look forward to – my sisters were inside playing with paper dolls or watching television – but I was outside with magnificent beauties.  I was learning how to be a riding instructor, learning how to work hard, learning about the kind of person I wanted to become.


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    Lynne loves to write in the early morning hours, especially in warm weather when she can sit outside on the patio.  After a walk with her three Welsh Corgis, her mind is cleared and her spirit is inspired by the choir of birds in nearby bushes and trrees. 

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