
Her pride’s on display
alongside her rainbow fish
in a gallery
celebrating creation
the heartwork of our children

Her pride’s on display
alongside her rainbow fish
in a gallery
celebrating creation
the heartwork of our children

The better angels
of our nature
cry out for
resolution
absolution
hear them calling
always calling
for the prevailing
of a collaborative spirit
over the combative one
before
even more
is lost
Photo: “If God Will Send His Angels.” just.Luc. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

anagram poem
broken hater
broken earth
broken heart
heartbroken
Uvalde
valued
One day at dismissal while I was monitoring the hallway, i.e., preventing a stampede, a fifth-grade girl approached me:
Mrs. Haley, I have been working on a story. I was wondering if you could give me some tips?
Of course! Is this an assignment for class?
No, it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while…
Even better. Have you written any of this story yet?
Yes, a little, but I’m stuck. C. told me how you helped him last year and he said you‘re the one to ask…
And so it was arranged that the student would come to meet me in the morning, story in hand.
She brought a friend. Another fifth-grade girl.
I began to sense that this was either a business conference or a council of wizards… maybe both.
The student read her story (a fantasy) and explained that she needed help with where to go next.
We discussed the strengths of her introduction and how to create a hook. The friend’s eyes glistened.
I asked several questions about the characters and their problem-solving adventure (i.e., plot). The story-writer answered aloud, expanding her own thinking. When I made a suggestion or two, both girls’ faces took on an otherworldly light.
Most of all, my young apprentices (I really didn’t say ‘my young apprentices’ — I only thought it as I spoke), if you’re going to have magic in this story, you have to stick to the rules you put in place or you’ll lose your readers. Does that make sense?
Oh yes, said the friend, nodding sagely. It still has to be believable.
And off they went, leaving me marveling in their wake about codes and spells and the power of one’s own mind to imagine the unimaginable, of idea-dust drifting through the atmosphere to settle upon whomever it chooses for bringing forth the story that wants to be told.
For, in a time and place when writing workshop is out of vogue and crafting responses to texts is essentially all the writing the present educational Powers That Be can imagine, what could be more magical than a child desiring to write a story for the sheer pleasure of it?
Nothing, I think. Nothing. It’s an ancient alchemy.
Go forth, young crafters.
Your stories await.
So do I.
So do we all.

John Steinbeck on Storytelling. Jill Clardy. CC BY-SA 2.0
*******
Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the weekly Slice of Life Story Challenge…supporting student writers starts with supporting teacher writers.
an acrostic
First glimmerings
In the gloaming
Rekindle ancient
Enchantments:
Fairies freewriting with
Lazy punctuation
Inkglow illuminating individual
Evening essays containing
Secret spells, summoning summer

Firefly. Mr.k_Taiwan. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0
Firefly symbolism is also enchanting. In China, fireflies are associated with scholars studying at night.
I am coming home late
if you are meeting me at the gate
unintentionally, but still
at the end of a long day
I shall go my own way
and leave you to play
sweet clover for you
sweet dreams for me
lettuce savor the evening
dear Big Brown Rabbit

He is shivering
before I can hear thunder
storm vibrations with
static electricity
send Dennis seeking solace

Burrowed in the clean towels
Little students
lighten moments
with little jokes:
Why shouldn’t you give Elsa a balloon?
She’ll just Let It Go.
What do you call someone without a body or a nose?
Nobody Nose.
—oh, you kids.

edible comic relief red nose day noses. osde8info. CC BY-SA 2.0.
Here, says the student,
is my rainbow-wing dragon.
For just a moment
the dreary day fades.
On these bright, magical wings
I am transported.

In the interview
the candidate said
we don’t get credit
for all we’ve endured
on behalf of kids
in these past two years
and apologized
for the sudden tears
every one of which
surfaces from depths
immeasurable
a soul subjected
to intense pressure
somehow withstanding
high temperatures
beyond describing
the weight of the world
in every teardrop
salt-worth far beyond
the rarest diamond
culminating crown
of love resounding
courage rebounding
in five wondrous words:
“I still want to teach”
