I wanted to remember a singular and penetrating feeling -- the tremendous pride I felt in watching my students' presentations of their stories in 4th period today. We journeyed with this Seedfolks story "Gonzalo" over the past 2 weeks. We planted its substance and style inside their heads, tended it, watered it, and let it grow. We took it apart, looked at all the pieces, manipulated them every which way, and then they put the pieces back together again and made the story their own. They wrote stories based on "Gonzalo" with a new, re-imagined ending, and today they presented to their classmates and scored each other's final product and presentation using a rubric.
(I pip: "...success?")
I was proud, proud! So happy and proud to look around the room and witness a perfect moment, as if it were suspended in amber -- their transformation from curious listener-readers to masterful, engaged, engaging writer-speakers in full view.
A single school moment can start to unravel me inside...
I saw today, though, that a single school moment can also wind my mind and spirit up tight like a coil. It can remind me all over again, as though I had never felt it before, of exactly why I love. to. TEACH.
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