Fall Gold

It's a new year, with new authors contributing beautiful thoughts and fantastic work to Write On.  Creative Writing students have been hard at work on writing articles in preparation for their time in the spotlight for a big newspaper; the fall season has also brought class members inspiration seen in daily journals, as well as poems. Sadly, this season always seems to go so fast!  Robert Frost said it best:

Nature's first green is gold,
her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
but only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief.
So dawn goes down to day,
Nothing gold can stay.

Nothing gold can stay....the leaves will turn and fall as winter marches steadily closer.  Do what you must to enjoy this October--open a window, carve a pumpkin, grab a cup of coffee or hot cocoa, bundle up in a sweater and favorite scarf, find that special place to take in the beauty around you...and better yet, write!  Enjoy nature's hardest hue to hold.

-Ms. O

Rainy Days and Windowpanes

It was a day just like any other day. As the sun broke through the horizon, Amelia groaned to the startling sounds of Michael Jackson blaring from her radio.  6:00, time to get up.  Hugging her pillow, Amelia strained to open her eyes, contemplating hitting the snooze button so she could have 10 more minutes of her dream.  Staring at her ceiling, the last trails of having the power to fly slipped away while a quiet creak of an open door escaped her.  “Meeea?  You wake?”  At the hushed whisper she flipped on her side and grinned at her youngest brother’s scrunched funny face peering over her mound of blankets.

“Come here, you,” she grunted while lifting 3 year old Todd up and over into her warm cocoon of pillows.  “It’s going to wain today, Meeea” he said as she hugged his pajama-clad body close to her.  “Really?” she yawned.  “It looks sunny to me buddy,” Amelia replied as rays of light danced across her wood floor.  She felt her eyes close as his little fingers ran through her long hair. 

Slam.  “AMELIA!”  The shout of her mom ripped Amelia from sleep—sitting up she glanced down to see her little brother waking up.  “OH NO!” She cried, seeing 7:23 on the clock.  “Todd, wake up bud, I’m going to be late!”  Jumping out of bed, she grabbed clothes off her floor, yanking on a clean shirt and hopping into jeans while looking for her shoes.  Todd giggled and followed her down the stairs, where the rest of Amelia’s brothers sat, finishing their breakfast at the table.  “Mom, I’m so sorry…I have to go.” Grabbing toast and a slice of bacon, she kissed her brothers on the head, snatched her backpack, and ran out the door. 

The bus doors hissed shut as Amelia made her way back to the last open seat.  If she was lucky, the driver would get her to the 8^th Avenue stop in 20 minutes today.  She would have to run, but she could make first block on time.  Staring out the window, she glanced at the loving families on the sidewalk brushing shoulders with businessmen in suits on their phones making deals.  As the bus rounded the corner, clouds crossed the sun.  “How does that little stinker do it?  Every time!” she thought, as storm clouds approached the city.

Morning classes were a blur of facts, numbers, and plenty of notes.  In Psychology, Amelia’s seat next to the window proved a distraction as raindrops hit the pane.  She grinned, thinking of her baby brother sitting on the couch staring outside.  After what felt like an eternity, Amelia finally reached her free block, a chance to go to the class of her choosing.  As always, she made her way to Creative Writing. The smell of coffee and paint hit her as soon as she entered the door.  Vibrant color, books, pottery, and glass art encased the room.  Here she truly felt alive!  After waving to her teacher, she made her way towards her work area where her friend Glenn sat at their shared desk.  He was already working on a project centered around the power of the written word—his desk was littered with newscasts, ads, and protest signs.  “Hi Glenn, looks great,” she said as she dropped her book bag on the ground.  After hearing his grunt of thanks, Amelia got to work.  Grabbing a laptop, she opened up her latest project.  Photoshop opened to her waiting masterpiece as Todd’s predicted rain continued to fall.  After grabbing a coffee she got to work on the hue of the wheat fields in her self-portrait.  Her brother would really like this one!

~Ms. O 

Busy little bees

Advanced Creative Writing has been busy this last month with larger projects.  For two weeks, members worked on developing a creative short story using the Google Earth extension known as Tour Builder.  As guinea pigs, there were bound to be a few hiccups along the way, but the results were incredible!  Tour builder basically gave the kids the ability to use a 3D earth to plot points, as well as adding pictures or video if they wished to their stories.  Pilots, plane crashes, bucket list traveling, Ancient Egyptian pottery, and college baseball were just some of the many focal points of their creations.

The class also had Mrs. Blocher for a sub while I was away at a conference; she introduced a song writing assignment that is also showcasing the unbelievable talent of this group.  Sometimes there is nothing more satisfying than finishing a writing piece you never thought possible.

And today?  Well, the combination of Friday + beautiful weather = crazy yet happy students...and who doesn't enjoy that interesting blend once and a while?!

Our class celebrated the day by opening up windows, basking in the fresh air and playing a fun group game that forces creativity in a short amount of time.  After laughing so hard that our many were near tears, it was mutually decided that laughter truly is the best medicine!
 The last bell of the day echoes through the halls, which empty faster than usual...the call of the sun is strong!

Wishing all a reviving, happy filled weekend! :)

~Ms. O

Quotes of Inspiration*

A sage is the instructor of the ages--
"No one can ever fill your shoes!"
Be the light--

For life is too short to stay mad.

You see, you are in charge of your own happiness,
and you
are
enough.
So explore the world around you,
Laugh often, long, and loud
Gasp for breath...heck,
High five it....
Because the truth matters. 
More than you know.

Stick with love as hate
is too great a burden to bear,
But most of all?

Set your sights on a star of known brightness....

Create.


~Ms. Olson
*Poem of quotes compiled from my desk calendar!

O me! O life!

Christmas break provided us all with a much needed recharge of the batteries.  Brains and attitudes came back for the most part ready and willing due to extra sleep, time with family and friends, the ability to read a good book or play a game, etc.  Second semester always brings a variety of change, whether it be the switching of classes, new courses, winter activities, etc.  As for us, December sent off 23 Creative Writing students with a hearty fair-thee-well.  The new year, and this blog, welcomes many familiar faces as well as some new souls into the world of Advanced Creative Writing!

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On our first day together, I showed the kids a clip from Dead Poet's Society...a brilliant film, in my opinion!  We watched as Robin Williams' character, Mr. Keating, encouraged his classroom full of male students to rip out the pages in their books regarding "Understanding Poetry." 

The message to be creative and view poetry as a privilege rather than a duty is maybe my favorite scene.  What Mr. Keating follows this specific scene with are some of my favorite lines of the movie:

 "We don't read and write poetry because it's cute.  We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race, and the human race is full of passion!  Medicine, law, banking--these are necessary to sustain life.  But poetry, romance, love, beauty?  These are what we stay alive for! I quote from Whitman:

O me! O life! of the questions of these recurring; Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill'd with the foolish, . . . What good amid these, O me, O life?   

That you are here--That life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

Keating pauses in the movie, and repeats that powerful last line one more time to his students: "That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse."  He looks around and asks intently, "What will your verse be?"

  --------------------------------------------------------

On that note, I went through the normal routine of what would be expected of the members of Advanced Creative Writing, as well as some of the projects we will tackle along the way.  This week they finished up their first task, to write their own "This I Believe" statement, inspired by thisibelieve.org.  I chose to end this week with some daily activities intent on getting them to think about the power of the written word.

Today, on a beautiful sunny, 40° reprieve from Father Winter, we made our way outside for the last 20 minutes of class.  Recess, if you will!  After getting the concept of throwing a snowball out of their system, members went about finding a dry place to sit in the grass and on the sidewalk outside of my room.  What followed was so peaceful, so amazing....that I fear I can't give the moment justice.  I didn't care what they wrote about--if they wanted to go further with our discussion that happened indoors on joy writing, or observations, or memories...it didn't matter.  I just asked them to write.  

For 20 minutes, the heads of 15 young men and women bowed to their paper, at times pausing to turn closed eyes and blissful faces towards the warmth of the winter sun, cocking a head in the direction of the gentle breeze through the trees, the music of birds, and the laughter of children on the playground....and they wrote!

It was a wonderful thing to witness, and a powerful moment to be a part of.  What would our world be like if everyone took the time to slow down like this on occasion?  Worries melted away like wax from a finely lit candle, and the pressures and stresses of Thursday were gone in minutes...it was all over in their body language and facial expressions.

Starting next week, Advanced Creative Writing members will begin sharing their own work, at their own choosing.  I welcome you in to witness their youthful brilliance.

~Ms. Olson

 

Life in a Cafeteria

A food crumb forgotten
Their life depended on it.
A Colorado rock avalanche, and
A playroom
Like bubbles on a sunny day.
What do we have to do
To get some
Steak?

Evil searches out it's prey
It will be his grandest moment...
Finish the scene of desolate loneliness.

She wouldn't and couldn't survive without it
Icecream
A mess and a jumble
Holding all charm in her hand
As easy as tying shoes

Frantically cutting through the air
Fingers flash, hands sway
A swamp of spaghetti,
Suffocating.


-Ms. O

Productive Procrastination

When I was a child,

Mama hated it when we said the “B” word—

“I’m BORED.”

Find something to do when you

Have nothing to do.

So we would climb trees,

Walk our “forest” paths,

Make mud pies and ride bikes.

Sometimes we were told what to do….

Pick strawberries, unload the dishwasher,

Take out the trash!

This led to the fun stuff—

Get it done guys, so we can play!

Play catch in the yard, don’t drop the ball

Or Hershey will get it and run.

On cold or rainy days, settle down

In the comfort of the office

And play a competitive game of 007 or Battle Tanks

On the Nintendo 64

Filling the room with yells, “Hey!” and laughter.

As the calendar pages danced across time

My nothing to do changed.

Now I wake in the morning and lay in bed

Or stand in my kitchen with no purpose

And seem to find a project.

My “bored” is normally procrastinating

The odd jobs I don’t want to do…

So I read one of the many books waiting on my shelves,

Or I stand in front of my fridge, staring and daydreaming

Of the amazing concoctions I could make after

Catching a show on Food Network.

I might text a friend, say “What’s up?”

With my porch done, I love checking the weather

And opening windows….anything to solve my fidgeting.

Sometimes I go down the rabbit hole—

And come up hours later

From the worlds of Pinterest and YouTube.

Disney, TCM, and, lets be honest, ANY movie

Are also a good ole' fall back.

My nothing to dos
Always send me searching
For more.

The Cost of Dream and Riddles

The curtain of rain shoots daggers

As sweet as a dragon’s breath in the midst of ballet.

Blazing fire, cooling “Stay With Me” into the year 2025--

Taste the burning, smell desire?  Feel the music in your bones

While Lancelot sits alone in Camelot,

Alone in Camelot.

What was Cass thinking….rain shoots feathers light in flight!

And the books teach us riddles that nobody knows.

Tradorisity is the means of flowers feeding the sun

The blue tree of dream does nothing for me

It does nothing for me.

But ovens will one day bake without asking

And clothes will wash without thought,

Will cars ever wave to the masses

Standing with trunk and hood in order?

Smooth words will flow from lips amongst the silent

With alacrity alarming no one and every one in Haven.

Gwen reads love letters of an anonymous nature,

Ich höre dich,     wenn dort mit dumpfem Rauschen I hear you,     when with a dull roar Die Welle steigt. The wave surges.

The good ship Secrets whispers loud, “I hear!  I see!” Yes, they only have five, we have only three But that is enough, said the grass ripe with life Do you know where the blue tree grows? Circle up the wagons, pumpkins...

Dotter strums a guitar with Oden in the middle of Moon’s waning

Glory shadows dudes and pretty girls on pointe

And Lancelot will fly, through daggers of rain.

--Ms. O

High School Confessions

Throughout life, we as humans experience change.  Sometimes more frequently than we would like, but there you have it.  As a high school student, I found change my constant companion.  There were many new developments as I passed through the system: new classes were added, our school name changed with a merger, the softball program formed, my class load difficulty accelerated, new staff arrived, etc.  By junior year, I was often with my teachers, coaches or sponsors more than I was at home.  Yes, I was perhaps involved in everything possible. And granted, I understand every kid and their experiences are different....but more often than not, this is a case easily applied to students today.  Change.

My point is, on certain days my history teacher was just my history teacher and my science teacher was just a science teacher...and so on.  But more often than not?  I found within my classrooms educators who were more than just there to share new information with me on their mastered subject.  Often I found advice, guidance, and support when I needed it most.  They accepted me for the striving, determined, flawed creature I was, as I accepted them.  Respect developed.  It should come as no surprise that I am in my current profession because of the kindness and brilliance I found in my coaches, sponsors, and teachers.

Sometimes I stand in front of my own classes now and experience a random memory that brings a smile to my face.  Who could forget the taste of a Phyllis cinnamon roll?  Or getting to school early just to line the hallway floor?  Sometimes as I step over freshmen legs in my hall, I see our heads bent together working on homework or catching up on the gossip developed overnight on MSN. 

In other instances, student conversations will take me back to the time in my life where I too was in their shoes...my generation may not have experienced the level of technology issues, nor had gripes with a federal-restricted lunch program, but some things truly never change.   

Case in point: on this beautiful Wednesday afternoon, Mrs. Blocher, my high school English teacher turned co-worker and now great friend, offered to buy me a drink from the local coffee shop.  As the two of us found ourselves enjoying a refreshing peach smoothie on my front porch, conversation flowed.  More often than not, our conversations of "catching up" go from the latest news, stresses, and joys to reminiscing.

Today we found ourselves laughing and sharing "confessions" of sorts from our respective high school days.  As adults--one must not be a teacher for this to be true--we sometimes have to enforce rules that teens don't always fully appreciate.  For some reason, the subject this day turned to school policies on dress code. 
 And so, to prove that teachers (or adults in general) understand more than students think we do, Mrs. B and I decided to each share a confession of sorts. 

Mrs B's story:
When I was a freshman cheerleader, we got new skirts, which were somewhat short for way back then.  Principal Tuch made us come to his office and ordered us to get on our knees.  If our skirts did not hit the floor, we had to go home.  Mine did not.  So twenty miles later, I was quickly grabbing a conservative dress at an appropriate length.  So short lengths have been taboo since the dark ages.

Ms. O's story:
I am not a fan of labels.  However, to cut to the chase, I will just say that I was (in my opinion) a "good girl" in high school.  BUT I did have a stubborn, sarcastic, and ornery streak that I will admit still exists today.  Throughout my entire Jr. High and High School career I only got one detention (and sorry Mrs. H, I still think that was a joke...a playful push on a friend's shoulder after she had just done it to me?  Come on).  Fast forward to the very last day of senior year.  Not only did I have Alice Cooper's "School's Out For Summer" in my backpack ready to play over the speaker system, I also was wearing what was a pretty new outfit.  For my birthday that March, my aunts had given me two layering tanks with 1/2" straps in two different shades of light blue paired with a dark blue zip up light jacket from Abercrombie & Fitch.  It being in the later part of May, it was warm so I chose to leave the jacket behind.  It was my last day, right?  We were only checking out of classes anyway.  WRONG.  As I pulled open the doors by the high school office, our principal stood there talking to my then softball coach.  With the crook of his finger, I walked over to them.
"Cassie," he shook his head.  "I'm sorry, but you are going to need to change."
"Seriously?  It's the last day, and the two of them together equal 1"....come on, Mr. Lambert."
But he didn't budge, and my coach took pity on me and gave me a softball t-shirt from her room to wear over my two (what I think now would be considered modest) tanks until the end of the day.  Luckily, said principal letting the seniors rub it in that we were done with Alice Cooper's jam made up for it. 

Oh, memories!

When it comes to Mrs. B, many great memories come to mind--before our merging, she taught us Jr. High English as well as Psychology, Sociology, English 10, and Creative Writing.  I know I am not the only one in my class that still remembers her coming to school with poison ivy and trying not to "drip" on us :).  She was at that level of dedication, folks!  We learned the value of writing and the power of debate, truly seeing both sides of a topic.  Her love of nature and ONP rubbed off on many of us.

A mentor and teacher then; a co-worker and true friend now.  We may change over the years--our priorities, our commitments, our dreams, our friends, our appearance--but, as has been discussed with my Creative Writing kids, memories are there for a reason.  And change is certainly not always a negative thing.  It is good to treasure all memories...the good, the bad, and the confessed :).

~Ms. O, with a special appearance by Mrs. B!

Power in our words

My name is Ms. O.

I am a teacher.

I am a teacher lucky enough to meet with a very diverse and fantastic group of students every day...our class?  Creative Writing.

As a blogger myself, I am well aware of the thrill and the joy that comes from releasing my own thoughts and works into the great unknown.  In a world that increasingly sees technology meet or exceed the pen, a class blog seemed to be the easiest answer in satisfying both "worlds."  My students have been more than willing to rise to the occasion, meeting the challenge and fears writers face when letting the world read personal works.

What you will experience throughout the following semesters is hopefully a treat.  Revolving classes will bring new material, fresh voices and different points of view for you and I to enjoy.

If I were to be entirely honest, I find I am most excited for you.

As their English teacher, I am already lucky enough to catch glimpses of their hopes, dreams, and disappointments found in various assignments throughout their years of high school. But through this blog, you get the chance to be right there with me, catching the beautiful wisps of soul that emerge from some of BCHS's most creative and searching minds.

Expressing observations, feelings, desires, and reactions to life are not for the faint of heart.  It is good, then, that the members of Creative Writing are brave. 

"Two roads diverged in the wood, and I--

I took the one less traveled by..." 

-Robert Frost

Enjoy.
~Ms. O