Friday, March 23, 2012

Magnetic Dog

I am still mining the blog-fodder gold of the schoolwork folders:

Creativity often borders on, or crosses over into, the absurd.

This goes above and beyond.  They do these pretty often, take a printed picture and add their own art to it and then write a few sentences to tell the story of what they did.

You know what, I like sentences and that opening one is as great as I've ever seen or created:  "My dog is magnetic, not to metal or steel, but to people and food."  The meter is lovely and it is so well balanced.  Frankly, I'd be proud of it if I'd written it myself.

As a writer and a lover of words, one of the most interesting things about kids is watching their language skills develop.  At first they babble and you nod (I used to make up the story they were telling me as they blahbidy-blahed, mostly for my own amusement), and then they start to make a little more sense, words get invented and incorrectly used, but it seems coherent.

Recently, however, I find myself in awe of the little stories they tell, peppered with asides and go-backs and restarts and essential elements forgotten and... well, I love to hear them.  Words will always be my window in their souls.

From Marci's '...things you don't expect to hear from the backseat...'

"Is there anything you want me to kill?"

Naw, I'm good, for now...

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