A Multi-talented Room Is KMWP (June 19, 2012)
It is a room where thoughts spread and sprinkle like a kaleidoscope of bubbles: rich, composed of many faces seemingly alike, but what comes out blows the mind.
It is a room filled with pervasive positive interactions.
It is a room of compassionate educators who carry their empathy for students in the words they put out without being aware of the depth of their compassion.
It is a room to which I race every morning filled with genuine and from-head-to-toe anticipation.
It is a room that gives me a 10x magnifying lens into many positive and progressive aspects of the humanity I love so much.
It is a room from where I know I will emerge a transcendental writer, so multi-layered, so grown, so wise, so much more compassionate, so much more grateful to be in this business of education that has been the center of my life’s force.
It is a room that I will carry with me in my emotions, as a reference material and as a guide book, as a memory that will cause my heart to skip in gratitude that I finally was chosen to be a part of concepts, processes, and topics that propel me to examine old topics in new lights and new topics in future lights.
It is a room of my dreams, making my imagination real.
The Second Friday of KMWP Sizzles! (June 15, 2012)
Things that sizzle force me to response with many reactions, imagined or real: excitement, anticipation, nourishment, and the fulfillment of that noisy imagery that grabs my attention and refuses to allow me to take it for granted.
Today dawns with a higher level of awareness of promises of growth, a higher call to what must be achieved with joy. I am pumped, ready, filled with all the eagerness of a child watching chopped onions sizzle in a pan, forecasting the certainty of being fed.
Today shoots off like a meteor as fingers grip pens and dive nose down in a white-water-rafting plunge of adrenal activity, “The English Throw Down”. We threw down on demand with elaborate sentences, figures of speech interspersed like black pepper. We borrow words from any foreign language on demand and from someone’s quotation, famous or not. We throw down. Somehow our creative thoughts gel, thoughts that seemed written with randomness come together in a mind-blowing cohesion. I am always ready, free and ready.
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I dabbled into a new area out of a self-inflicted dare: writing a young adult fiction. However, I wanted to write it as an out-of-body experience, not me writing as I would but writing as I imagined a young adult writer putting down thoughts and ideas. Let me tell you, the “process” challenged me.
Plot is evident in the story, and although it is necessary, it cannot move the story by itself. Dialogue is there. Unfortunately, I buried it/him/her several pages behind, which made it excruciating to read. Teenagers have no patience. We know that.
Yesterday’s adventure into memoir writing exposed me to the art of relocation: moving chunks around with these guidelines: nice but doesn’t fit, save it; not nice and doesn’t fit, cut it; eradicate chaff words such as “-ly”; compare and compress by removing the telling part of the story; and make ten specific changes.
Needless to say, I have work to do. I will not give up on the young.
I love reading YA fiction! Most likely because that is the age group I teach and I am always sneaking peeks at their titles to see what is going on in “their” world. Don’t give up…and let me know when you have something meaty to chew on!
We peeled the layers in our names yesterday. My parents baptized me with a beautiful name that floated with a life force; however, I blame it for turning me into an enigma: good-natured, a sympathetic friend, tough at times, blunt, and stealthily sarcastic. My name is music, a three-toned instrument, and I loved growing up in it. Family members dissected it, made pet names out of it, each to his or her idea of me. It responds quickly to kind words or any expression of appreciation.
As serendipitous as my name is, my high school English teacher brought me down to earth, causing unworthiness and fear to lurk around that name. He began each chastisement with, “Do you know what your name means?” if I punctuated incorrectly, mouthed a fragment, or failed to decipher the function of an adverb.
On the generous end, I insulted bullies in high school without them realizing I trounced them until months later when they heard the insulting word or words bandied about blatantly. Any follower of my name can attest that, if the wind blows, I become loquacious.
My birth name begins like the “Eu” in Europe, shifts in chord into “kay,” and finishes up with the last hard “ria;” and I am not Spanish nor fond of the rolled “r.” My name is Eucharia. All in all, I soaked in a very revealing part of me yesterday as I journey to the core of memoir writing. I am anxious to get started today.
Pretty piece. I love your way with words.
Write a memoir? Who? Me? The thought scares me at first, but I am a free thinker who says yes to anything that involves writing. I dig in, searching through the walls of my well, as circular as it is, with a high-powered light, looking at my life in quarterly segments, trying to find the aspect of it deep enough for me to lower my literary pail and pull up enough water to write a memoir.
This is truly intoxicating! Looking at my life, I take my life story in snapshots. I realize now that I miss my life, that life, the one-quarter of it that I am examining now. Wow, and that is only 25%. I am looking forward so much to today’s events, and boy, am I ready!
The instructor, an associate dean here at my university, seems to know something that we (obvious ignorant lot) do not yet. She placed tissues in the middle of each group’s table. Are there going to be tears today? Who is going to cry? Hmmm.
it was very interesting to me to view my life in segments of time.
I am attempting to encapsulate that word, “free,” just for this summer’s (2012) KMWP outlook. Truth be known, “free” (not just the connotation in the suffix, “-dom,”) has always been the foundation of my perspective on education all my life. Why should I restrict myself or my students in my abilities or theirs? Even if we believe (and that is the crux because belief can be changed) that the person is incapable of achieving the feat, we cannot choke effort and energy out of their willingness because of our own short-sightedness. We must think freely, feel freely, and allow others to engage in intellectual development freely.
I spent Saturday here among my fellows soaking in all that glided my way, and every single event propelled me into more thirst for more knowledge. The exemplary demo we previewed was about art. The day only got better with us trying to see art in a different life: writing about it. We described different pieces of art, judged them, analyzed all the nuances, and interpreted them, allowing our minds to see familiar art in ways we never had the time or allowed ourselves profound introspection. The bar is raised.
We need to meet or exceed it, and those are the only two options. Pensive moments cause me to grow, not being pensive for looking thoughtful, but really digging deep into the crevices of every hidden corner of your intellect and pulling out what astounds you before it astonishes anyone else. Every inch of my fiber is free to re-view (see again), rethink, re-appreciate, re-visit, re-evaluate, and all the words that allow me to re-grow intellectually, spiritually, selflessly, and socially.
I look forward to each new day with a new bride’s potential familial growth and a lifetime of promised love and life.
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I am ecstatic to be involved in the Kennesaw Mountain Writing Project after many years of hoping and wishing. An ebullient feeling fills every nook and corner of my free-spirited, inquisitive, and absorbent intellect. I thought I was the Queen of WAC, but I am simmering in self-discovery of the rarest kind. Gurus jar my brain with unique writing-across-curriculum activities of the socio-scientific nature, “writing with brush strokes,” what I call contributive poetry, and so on. The summer is just beginning. I am gripping my seat for this roller coaster ride unlike any!Comment viewing options
I can’t even think of an adjective to completely describe my feelings about being involved with the Kennesaw Mountain Writing Project. Like you Frances, I am ecstatic. I know this is going to be a transformative experience and I look forward to applying my new insights and knowledge to my class in the fall.
I think this will be a time of discovery for all of us! I am glad to share the exploration with you!