Kelly Hunter
Literacy Fellow Coordinator, Cornerstone

What is it about a peach pit or a piece of bark that could make someone cry, you might ask? If you don't have a clue and didn't have the opportunity to attend the session on crafting writing at the Summer Institute, then you will want to read on.

It was a hot July morning at the Summer Institute as Becky McKay introduced us to the wonders of "The Private Eye." With our jewelers' loupes in hand and a specimen from nature that we had selected, Becky asked us to look closely, look differently at our treasures. A few minutes before, she had modeled her own process for observation and writing using a peach pit.

Now, she wanted us to be the writers, the poets. Many participants mumbled that they weren't writers and certainly not poets. However, Becky made it look so easy that we were ready to give it a try.

Her two questions would start us on the road to becoming poets: (1) What else does this look like and (2) what does this remind me of that evokes a memory from my heart?

Before long, everyone was peering through their jewelers' loupes, a small magnifying glass, to closely examine twigs, leaves, insects, and even pieces of bark. Some eyes began to fill with tears as thoughts of loved ones lost were triggered by connections and memories that resurfaced. A shell reminded one participant of her walks on the beach with her grandfather who was now struggling to retain his memory in his battle with Alzheimer's. Another person thought back to a moment from his youth, and he penned the following:

"Haytime"

As the cart rumbles in, the dry, sweet smell of hay saturates the air.
The farmyard is sere and dusty and the sky clear.
The lady from the big house and her pretty daughter
Shimmer into view, in a quest for eggs and milk, which even they need.

The boy watches as they draw near.

He sees from the corner of his eye her city frock and her buttoned shoes
And her fastidious confidence - except with the farm dogs.
She looks at him with a square gaze, but disdainful and detached.
He feigns indifference and keeps his eyes elsewhere.

But his mind is full of his frayed clothes and lumpen clogs.

Sharp, like a shard of glass, the mother's voice separates itself.
" Why don't you invite him to your party?" Her bright smile looks sincere.
The girl, her shoes ever more dazzling, whispers in her mother's ear.
He allows his hope to rise. "Oh, but why not?" And they fall, wounded.

His pride is no defense, and from his heart, but not his eye, there falls a tear.

He has no skill to disengage, but stands until the visitors have gone,
Watching until they float above the ground. The horses' stomp and the sweet hay,
And sounds and sights of summer fade away. All but the apple of experience,
Whose taste lingers, sour, as he discerns his nakedness.

And then he slowly turns and walks away.

The power of this adult learning experience was evident in the participants' writing and responses. This experience was part of a larger agenda for the crafting writing workshop, which exposed participants to all four stages of Continuous Professional Development (CPD).

 

To enjoy the full impact of the crafting writing workshop, click below and you can use it with your colleagues as well.

 
View Presentation Online
Download Powerpoint File
(104 MB)
(Broadband Connections)

(Note: This power point file contains several graphics. We suggest that you download it when you are at school or home with a high-speed cable or DSL connection.)