Ways to End Our Stories

As we continue our revision process, my students worked on their endings. We talked about how stories about our lives need to have all the lose ends tied up nice and neat so that the reader has the complete story from beginning, middle, and end.

A few things we put on our chart for ending

• our stories tie up all the lose ends.
• can end the same way it begans (repeated line or phrase)
• don't use "the end"
• don't end in "happily ever after" that is reserved for fairy tales
• reflect the mood of the author and what they were thinking

We looked at my writing and that of our mentor text.  Then I had students meet with their writing partners to discuss what type ending would work for their piece and then revise three different versions of an ending.  I have found that allowing students a time to play with words and work on endings in their notebooks  helps them see things from a different perspective and really use the notebook as a place to revise before putting it on draft paper.

Happy Revising!!!

The Art of Seeing Again

The revision process of writing used to be grueling and gut wrenching for my writers until we had George Ella Lyon speak at our school.  She brought the many revisions to her picture book Mother to Tigers taped together and had the students hold a piece until the completed strand decorated the entire media center. I remember being in awe that day as I looked at this published author and how she slashed through pages of prose to ultimately have the perfect edition of the book.  My writers were astonished as well. One of the conversations in our room after was how we use different lenses to revise. That  revising means to see the piece in a different way.  Today as I began this process with a new group of writers I explained that sometimes to grow as  a writer it hurts a little bit.  Letting go can provide a new opportunity for a better sentence or mental image for the reader.  Meaningful revision, albeit sometimes painful, opens the door for a better writer and a published piece worthy of celebration.

from Flickr Creative Commons http://www.flickr.com/photos/lytfyre/4425745183/sizes/m/in/photostream/

Memoir Monday~The News

**This piece was written with my students and revised with them as we began our journey to "revising to be better writers" series.**

Dr. Saddiqui and his messengers entered my room quietly. He came over to me. “I’m sorry, but we believe your daughter has Down syndrome,” he stated. “We are performing genetic testing and will have the results by Friday,” he continued. As the entourage left the room my mind swarmed with many confusing, racing thoughts. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening! Not my daughter! This only happens to other people! My silent room was filled with emotional chaos. Outside my room the buzzing of the nurses continued, while the doctor’s voice echoed in my ears. I kept replaying the scene: genetic testing, no eye contact from the doctor, and I knew he was right. Emma had Down syndrome. Tears flowed down my cheeks in furious streaks and my temper flared!

“There is nothing wrong with Emma! How can they even think that? I exploded. I could feel the protective instinct envelop my child even though I had only been a mother for 24 hours.

How can this be happening? How can I possibly wait 3 days to find out? What do I do? Well, I waited. I prayed. I visited my tiny baby. And I waited.

On Friday, the hospital social worker called and asked us to come up to the conference room. My heart was thumping in my chest as I walked into the elevator and then into the room. On the table sat a box of tissues. My heart sank. I gasped. My heart began to break into tiny pieces. My sobs could be heard own the hall.

“Shh…you don’t even know the results,” said the social worker.

I wanted to scream what!!! This is my child we’re talking about! Instead I quietly replied, “True, but I don’t believe the news is what we want to hear.” I pointed to the tissue box and sat down.

A rush of activity caught my attention. Dr. Saddiqui entered the room with an unfamiliar doctor. She was very animated and it was obvious she was talking about my daughter. She turned and smiled at us. Then it seemed the whole world came crashing down around me. While I tried to stop my sobs and tears, Dr. Moghadan tried to explain what it meant when she told us Emma had Mosaic Down syndrome. But, it seemed that someone had pressed the mute button. I could not speak; I could not hear her words. My mind was rushing with many different thoughts. Will she be “normal?” Will she fall in love? Will she walk or talk?

Dr. Moghadan’s words changed me. I was no longer a “new parent,” but a parent of a special needs child. Not only did her words change me, but they changed others. People went from saying, “Congratulations” to “I’m sorry,” as if someone had died.

However, I learned a lot about my self that day. I would gladly sacrifice my life to prevent my child from being hurt. Now four years later, I see and experience the love of my daughter~who does talk, who does walk, and “woves” me.