Prompting Fictional Scenes in Response to a Novel by Jordan Sonnenblick

      Using NOTES FROM THE MIDNIGHT DRIVER, by Jordan Sonnenblick, for a writing lesson on how to convey a distinctive narrative voice, I challenged two middle school boys to write their own fictional scenes in response to the novel. We had read aloud and discussed the opening pages of Sonnenblick's novel, just past the point when the self-deprecating narrator, who is hospitalized after an embarrassing drunk-driving accident, discovers that he now bears a scar on his forehead as a reminder of his recklessness. I asked the students, Oliver and Ryan (8th and 7th graders, respectively), to write a future scene about the protagonist, Alex, having to explain his scar to someone he has a crush on, without revealing the mortifying truth about his uncharacteristically irrational behavior. The aim of the lesson was to maintain the humorous voice of the narrator while flexing their own creative muscles. Here are the outstanding results. I hope that Jordan Sonnenblick will read and enjoy these scenes! 

1) By Oliver T.: 

     I wipe my tears with my sleeve, realizing the severity of my scar. My finger rubs against the bumpy patchwork on my forehead. What will Alyssa think? I can’t get the thought out of my mind. I start thinking about cover-up stories: "My dad was driving when a drunk driver hit us head-on;” or “I was jogging and a car ran a red light and hit me." Probably not the last one, since I would likely be dead if that happened. I’m not sure what excuse to use; all I know is that I can’t tell her the truth. 
     Surprisingly, I kind of want to go back to the hospital. That way, no one will know what I did. Yet for some reason, one small part of me believes that the truth will reveal itself. 
I almost forget that Dad is driving me home. He is lecturing me about responsibility for the third time this week. I drowsily listen, trying not to fall asleep, or, at least make it look like I’m not asleep. 
    "You need to be more careful, always ask yourself before you do something if it is beneficial. Use that brain of yours. If you really are my child you should have at least some part of my intelligent brain," my dad lectures.
     He drops me off at Mom’s place, where my mother takes me up in a loving embrace. "I am so glad my boy is home," Mom says, squeezing me in a hug. "I hope you are alright."
     I know exactly what will happen next. Oh no, here it comes. I brace myself for my mother to change her tone and slap me on the cheek. She always does that when I mess up, but instead, Mother releases me from the hug and takes a good look at me. She looks at my tired, disappointed self and hugs me. "Go to sleep now. You still have school tomorrow," Mom says as she lets go of me.
     "Alright, Mom, Goodnight," I say, trying to have a cheery tone. I limp over to my room and collapse on my bed, exhausted from the hospital, but dreading tomorrow.
     In the morning, I walk to school, my head feeling much better than yesterday, and my confidence is better as well. After all, I spent the majority of yesterday thinking about what to say. Today, I finally decide to listen to the angel inside of me … sort of. Bending the truth ain’t so bad right? My plan is to tell Alyssa … 
     Thud! My shoulder rams straight into a pillar. I fall on my butt, wincing in pain.
     “You alright?” says a familiar voice. 
     I look up to see none other than Alyssa Stone. My palms start to sweat and my legs are trembling. I awkwardly get up and wipe my hands on my shirt.
    “Where’ve you been? You were missing for the past week.”
    “I was in the hospital,” I reply. “I was in an accident.”
    “What kind of accident?”
    “I was in a car crash,” I answer. Concern fills Alyssa’s expression. “But definitely not like too severe, but … well, like really bad but … I didn’t get injured too much cuz I was lucky but, like … Yeah.”
    I wince, cringing at my weirdness. My heart starts thumping.
    Alyssa raises her light eyebrows. “Uhh … well, alright, see you later. I gotta get to class.” Alyssa walks away, biting her lip.
    “Umm, see ya later … Alligator.”
    Oh my gosh, what am I doing? I quickly walk away and take a detour to my first-period class. That was really bad; I don’t know what happened. 
     A class period passes and the accident is still on my mind. I’m pretty sure Alyssa’s not looking for a guy that wrecks cars and murders garden gnomes. All I had to do was make a normal story and avoid the truth. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?
    Three periods pass, and before I know it, it is my lunch period. Time flies when you can’t get something out of your mind. I make my way through the lunch courtyards. My friends motion me to sit with them, but I ignore their invitation. I look through the crowded courtyard and meet eyes with Alyssa. I briskly walk through the sea of students toward her lunch line.
    “Hey,” I start, “sorry about earlier.”
    “Hello,” Alyssa replies, adding lettuce to her sandwich. “What happened when you ‘got injured really bad, but not too severe, but definitely not, yeah,’” Alyssa teases.
    I laugh nervously and start to blush. “It was a car accident.”
    “Oh my gosh, what did you do? Drive drunk or something?” Allysa jokes.
    “Yeah,” I respond.
    “What?!” Allysa jumps.
    “Only joking,” I quickly correct myself, with an awkward chuckle. “I was driving … erm, my dad was driving me home when a drunk driver ran a red light and went 50 miles per hour into our car.”
     “So that’s what happened to your forehead.” Alyssa points to my forehead. “It’s a miracle that you are alright. Is your dad alright?”  I quickly smooth my hair down.
     “Yeah, I just had a concussion and some alcohol pois—I mean food poisoning … and an upset stomach. My dad is fine.” 
     “What does food poisoning have to do with this?” Alyssa implores.
     “We were at a party, and … umm, their microwaved taquitos weren’t very good for my stomach.” I gulp.
     “So, you were coming home from a party and your dad was not drunk?” Alyssa replies with shock.
     “Umm, yeah, he doesn’t drink at all.”
     “Oh, sorry to assume. But I am just used to my old man getting really drunk at parties, and still wanting to drive home.” 
     I look to the side.  My mind is overflowing with questions and shock. That was pretty personal. She trusts me enough to say that? Does she like me, too? Should I say something personal back? What do I say back? If I just respectfully leave, it won’t be awkward anymore, right? I slowly back away.
     “Well, my friends are waiting for me right now. I’ll see you in English,” I awkwardly break the silence. 
     “Me, too,” Alyssa blushes. 


2) By Ryan H.

A Truth Too Hard To Reveal
I pick up some hot, crusty bread, placing it in a little bag that has the words ‘‘Bake ‘n’ Flake’’ across the center.  I smile at a customer as I quickly pull out the receipt, handing both items to him.
Pit-a-Pat, Pit-a-Pat, footsteps of employees and customers echo into the pleasant morning air as the aroma of sweet bread drifts under my nose.
Finger-combing the long strands of hair that cover my forehead, I glance around.  My eyes stop like an eagle spotting something interesting.  Amelia, I look at her, feeling a mixture of enthusiasm and eagerness as I steadily walk towards the table where she’s sitting at.
“Ahem, hi… Ummm... everything’s alright here?” I ask.
She always arrives in the campus bakery in the morning for coffee and mini-croissants, and I’m satisfied I have the morning shift.  I really can’t keep my eyes off her.
“Yeah, everything’s fine.”
I gesture towards her shirt that says “Class of “2020,” saying, “Hey, I think you’re in one of my classes.”
I stupidly grin and push my hair back.  Suddenly, her eyes change, they looked a little wide, maybe even concerned.  I swallow, pulling down a few strands of hair.
       “Where did you…” She paused.  “...get that huge scar over your forehead?”
       I gaze down, feeling her eyes dig into my forehead. “Ummmm… when I was young… I actually fell off a tree… and got a couple of scratches here and there.”
       “Oh, I’m sorry….my brother loved to climb trees as well.  He always fell off, too, but didn’t get too many gashes.”
       I quickly look away, realizing I have been staring at her light blue eyes so intently.     “Yeah, cool!” I blurt. “I mean...” Amelia looks at me, confused. “You know… I mean…uhhhh…It was nice talking to you, Amelia…”
       “You too—” she glances at my nametag—“Alex.” She quickly sits up and walks out as if in a hurry.
       Soon, my shift ends, and I see the bright yellow sun glistening in the warm afternoon through the windows of the bakery.  I scratch my head, as I head toward my sedan, looking back toward the table where Amelia had sat.  Where l had lied to her.  I rub my hand along the long, jagged, scar.  I let out a sigh as I step into my little car, taking my apron off and placing it on my bulging backpack.
       Screeeeeech!! I slam the brake as my car jolts to a sudden stop.  The student who was crossing the street backs away, shouting, “Man, are you drunk!? You could have killed me!”  He raises his hand, sticking up a nasty finger, baring his teeth, and cursing all the profanity I’ve ever heard in my life.
       I mumble under my breath, “No, I only kill garden gnomes.” I realize I’m not breathing.  I take a deep breath, feeling a throb on my forehead.
       The memory ripples over me like a vast wave, the time I had driven drunk and crashed, leaving behind a pile of crumbled gnomes and the zig-zag on my forehead.  I look down at  my white knuckles, as I grip onto the leather wheel.  How in the world would I have gotten a scar from falling off a tree?  And if I did, it wouldn’t be on my forehead, since that would mean I would fall on my head, and I’d probably be dead....

Poetry Prompting Poetry: Inspiring Introspection by Sharing Deep Thoughts

  Evoking introspection by sharing thought-provoking poems enables me to catalyze growth for young writers, in terms of both their writing skills and their self-understanding. Evidence of such growth often arrives in the form of poetic responses to my own poetry prompts, as illustrated below:

THE PROMPT: Write a similar poem about unfair assumptions you've made.
 
About Assumptions
by Susan L. Lipson 

I read your scowl as a snide comment
about me,
and prepared to throw the book at you,
but then you revealed the grief between your lines,
and I reread that scowl as a grimace of pain,
about you.
Guiltily, I snapped shut the book of judgment,
which wasn't mine to read.

THE RESPONSE:

Assumptions

by Caleb T., age 11

I’ve had some trouble putting it out of my mind.

Quiet, thin-eyed = older.

Loud, wide-eyed = younger.

In between = middle.

I hope that no one hears

And thinks that I judge too much

The perceptions of people’s ages.

Assumptions ≠ facts.

ANOTHER PROMPT: Use the bold-lettered words as a framework for 
your own poem on the same theme, or reverse the objects and subjects,  
changing "you" to "I/me" to show the opposite view.

Old Blanket
by Susan L. Lipson

To you, I was an old blanket,
Covered in teddy bears and hearts,
Warmth from younger days.
But now you see me as threadbare,
Unappealing, too babyish,
Something for the storage chest.
To me, you were my best childhood friend.
But now I know you as the one who
Discarded me for a new comforter.

THE RESPONSE (THE REVERSED OPTION):

Former Commander 

by Ethan C., age 10

To me, you were my commander,

Helping me with everything I do, 

Memories of the younger days.

But now I see you as a comrade,

Less cool, more average, 

Somebody just to be friends with. 

To you, I was like a soldier,

But now you know me as a fighter 

Who rose the ranks and went beyond you.

           
         Both of these student poets wrote their poems after a deep discussion of the various implied meanings of the prompt poem. Their sweet expressions of insightful nostalgia warmed my heart as they read me their final drafts with pride. Thanks for reading. Please leave encouraging comments for Caleb and Ethan below!

Apology to Readers Who Have Left Comments and Received No Reply from Me

Dear Readers,

It's 2020--the year of clarity (my vision-related joke for the New Year). I only today discovered, because a treasured former student wrote me a letter, that I have received numerous comments over the past months (and years) and never knew of them! I'd figured that no one bothered to leave comments. The truth, I now see, is that I ineptly set up this blog site and didn't enable the settings to notify me about comments awaiting moderation. I have just remedied this issue, and want to thank all of you whose comments elicited no replies from me. Please know that I have indeed read them today and appreciate your taking the time to praise and encourage my students, and to express your admiration for my lessons and your desire to share them with others.

Please keep reading and commenting. I will reply now, and pass on your praise to my dear students!

As always, inspiring awe for words and awesome writing,

Susan L. Lipson

P.S. Check out my other blog, too, if you haven't: see the link to the right of this post...

Still Life Pictures that Paint Moving Character Portraits

         To portray a person to readers, whether that person is a fictional character or an actual human, a narrator or a protagonist presented by an omniscient narrator, avoid telling readers about him/her/them in opinion-based adjectives and judgment-laden revelations. For example, readers won't enjoy fully engaging with a character described to them as an "untrustworthy gossip" as much as they will enjoy figuring out that character trait for themselves within an implied description, such as: "Under the table, out of Amy's view, Nancy typed on her phone: 'AMY GOT DUMPED BY JOHN LIKE WE ALL KNEW SHE WOULD!' Then she typed a string of crying-laughing face emojis." The latter description of Amy's phone screen will make readers see Nancy's betrayal and decide for themselves that she is an untrustworthy gossip. The emotional impact of an illustrated tangible object--the phone and text message--has far more power than a merely "telling" phrase. 

          Using tangible objects to imply characteristics about a person is a fine way to "show, not tell" in a poetic prose portrait. Try it yourself with the following writing prompt:

          Arrange a “still life” picture of a person’s private space that evokes a mental character sketch through the implications of the assembled objects. Describe in detail such possessions as clues to reveal details, subtly, about the collector/character/narrator. Here is a still life picture of a corner of my own private workspace. What can you infer about ME from this still life portrayal? 

I have shown you implications about myself as a poet with a new book, and as a visiting author who conducts poetry workshops. I have shown you that I seem to value plants and views of nature, that I might collect rocks, that I need an overhead fan in my office, and that I probably read and highlight memorable passages, given the number of highlighters in the mug. The mug also reveals that my highlighting might be for students' papers, since it says, "Teaching is a work of heart." So, you can infer that I am a teacher. Furthermore, you can infer from the placard on the windowsill, which says, "To the world, you may be one person, but to one person, you may be the world," that someone values my presence enough to give me that gift, and that I value that expression of appreciation enough to want to see it as a daily reminder. (You can also infer, from the fact that I added commas above to my transcription of plaque's message, that I am an editor!) Do you see how that list of items gives us the basic bullet points to build a more layered character?

          But now, look what can happen when I show a character interacting with this collection of objects, to suggest some more psychologically intriguing characteristics that readers can infer--characteristics that will engage the reader and advance the plot. Let's imagine that a different woman inhabits my office, and each day, before she sits down to work at her desk, she picks up the placard and runs her fingers over the words 'but to one person you may be the world,' as she sighs wistfully. Then she dusts off the placard, sets it down like a holy relic, inhales deeply, and settles down onto her chair to start her day. Spin a tale from that daily ritual!  What if I add other objects to the scene, like a pile of wadded-up tissues beside a torn-up, hand-lettered envelope showing the character's name, "Nancy," inside a shakily drawn, red heart? Plots can build upon such subtle details. Allow your readers to play investigators or psychologists as they explore the worlds you lay before them. 

          Try setting up your own still life pictures to evoke a character and a plot. Experiment with adding and removing carefully chosen objects to focus on providing images that deepen your characterization and propel your plot. As in poetry, details should have a purpose; this exercise will strengthen your focus on meaningful word choices and keep you from bloating your prose (or poems) with unnecessary details. Now go write!

More Creative, Allegorical, Student Authors' Sequels to "The Animal School"

The parable "The Animal School," by George M. Reavis, consistently evokes creative responses from my writing students. Their enthusiasm for Reavis's story, which covertly criticizes the conformist, yet competitive curricula comprising many educational programs, does not surprise me; after all, my students epitomize the often underestimated, astute learners who aim to find passion and personal fulfillment in their studies. Grace and Joshua, two insightful middle-school students, responded to the parable with very different sequels, published below. Grace's sequel introduces a college scout who visits the school to assess scholarship candidates. The Eagle, who in the original story, performed the climbing curriculum his own way, defying the school rules, catches the eye of the scout not as a rebel, but as an innovative nonconformist. Joshua's sequel takes a darker approach to the topic: how schools foment unhealthy competition and dishonest, politically motivated schemes to fund their own system, at the expense of students' success and mental health. Please read these excellent stories and leave a comment for the promising authors below! 

CREATIVE AS WELL AS TALENTED:

A Sequel to "The Animal School," by George M. Reavis

by Grace L., age 12

One day, a college scout showed up at the Animal School, looking to recruit one student to receive a full scholarship.  All the students lined up, eager to prove themselves worthy. Nervous glances were exchanged when the administration announced the first event. 

“Climbing!” the administration broadcasted, as the elimination process began. Hours and hours of multiple subject tests went by before the scout declared he had enough. 

Silence filled the auditorium and the squeaks of the floorboard mapped out the steps to their fate. The microphone feedback whined, and the students shifted to the front of their seats. The scout, unbothered, flipped through his papers to declare his final decision.

“After extensively observing this school, I have reached a decision,” he states. “This year I will be giving the full scholarship to Eagle.” Confused looks filled the audience as they wondered if this was a mistake. 

Still unbothered, the scout continued to state, “Eagle has shown a significant amount of talent throughout the climbing test. He was able to be impressively faster than all the other students in completing the task at hand. Meanwhile, he was able to be creative and unique in the way that he climbed the tree. To me, this shows a lot of integrity, and excellence. Eagle was able to take his gifts and use them to improve. I found his character to be unlike others, for he is unmoved by the fact that he is different. Everyone else had worked hard to be so-called ‘average’ at every subject. The college I have come here to represent would love to have Eagle, an individual, who has the ability to be creative as well as talented. To all the other students, keep working hard and soon you will achieve the level of greatness that Eagle has shown here today.” 

To this comment, mouths and beaks hung open as teachers’ eyes bulged. The student that everyone had been guilty of treating like an outcast had outshined them all. Slow claps began as Eagle made his way up to the stage, his face plastered with an expression that said, “I knew it all along.” 

Soon after this event, teachers questioned their purpose, and students questioned their goals. When the administration finally recovered from their shock,  they began to organize students into classes based on their talents and passions. Furthermore, the track and swim teams were created. In the end, Duck’s feet healed. 

               🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Dark Days at The Animal School

(A Sequel to "The Animal School," by George M. Reavis)

by Joshua T., age 12

One day one at the Animal school, the head counselors decided to expand their acceptance. They had started accepting a variety of different organisms. The first to join was Clostridium perfringens, a form of bacteria. Even with these new organisms, the school decided to keep its current curriculum. The Clostridium perfringens was accepted early into this school due to their amazing performance in the SOT (Skilled Organism Test) and their stunning resumes. 

Clostridium perfringens, like other bacteria, were also able to travel through the air. Since the bacteria were enrolled in the wind-assisted flying program, this made them incredibly good at flying. They were also able to keep up with the fastest climbers by clinging onto the fastest climbers, ensuring their top scores. This was the strategy for most of the other events as well. The instructors were oblivious to this as they were always at the finish, awaiting the competitors. The competition was also oblivious as the bacteria were small and light. The Clostridium perfringens would jump off the animal they used, right before they crossed the finish line.

Since the Clostridium perfringens always tied against the top animal in each competition, this pushed the top animal to train even harder to try to beat their time, staying after school or at lunch to practice. This was no use as the Clostridium perfringens always tied with them no matter what. Due to the animals training harder and harder, they pushed the limits of each subject. This forced the head counselors to push the standard even higher. 

Eventually, even the top animals had a limit and just decided to give up on trying harder. This was the same for all the other animals. If they couldn’t even beat the top animal, they would never be able to beat the Clostridium perfringens. This led to an increase in depression, drug use, and alcohol use. The school desperately tried to hide this, and they were successful. The Animal School was nominated the top school for 5 years straight after Clostridium perfringens joined. This led to more funding to make the school nicer and more recruiting of organisms even better than Clostridium perfringens. All this to hide all of the student depression and drug and alcohol use. The more the Animal School hid, the more funding and money they got. The school eventually opted out of government funding and became a private institution. Although the school had so much money, they never supplied mental health treatment for the students, fearing that their rating would drop.

Two years after the school had become a private institution, the school had 20 suicides, 75 incidents due to drug overdose, 121 incidents of fights breaking out due to alcohol use, and a 60% dropout rate.

🐌🐍🐎🐏🐐🐑🐒🐓🐕🐆🐄🐃🐣🐥🐛🐝🐙🐘🐗🐠

Student Response to "The Animal School," by George Reavis

     

"The Animal School," a fable by George Reavis is one of my favorite prompts for middle-school students (click on the story title to read the short text, which I first read in a Chicken Soup for the Soul book). The story teaches a lesson about teaching lessons--to animals. The animal students find themselves in a school that forces them to learn athletic skills that contradict their natural abilities--like the duck who is forced to keep practicing his running on the track, and discouraged from focusing on swimming, in which he excels. Torn webbed feet and low self-esteem certainly won't motivate such a student. This fable is about teaching to students' strengths, rather than highlighting their weaknesses and setting them up for failure; it's about designing lessons to suit individual learners' needs; and it's about self-directed learning and the importance of nonconformity to inspire students to reach their full potentials. 

After discussing the story, I assign two possible writing prompts: 1) students can write their own story about an animal NOT mentioned in "The Animal School" who rebels against a teacher who ignores abilities and needs in favor of a "one size fits all" approach to education; and 2) students can write a persuasive letter to the head of the Animal School to demand changes in unjust curriculum requirements. Oliver, a 12 year old, found a unique way to complete both prompts and link them together. I was so impressed by the voice, humor, and description in his story, and by the clever letter that he wrote from the principal to the complaining parents, that I asked him to send me his final draft for this blog. Below is Oliver's tale of a fish who attends the Animal School, and makes waves, so to speak, first by beating his swan teacher's record in swimming, and then by questioning an oblivious teacher who tries to force him into risking his life by running on land. I hope you enjoy and admire his work as much as I do. Please consider leaving a comment for Oliver, below this story.

As a fish, I love swimming; I mean, it’s one of the only things I can do. Then came September 2, which was the first day of Animal School. I was so excited to meet new friends and learn new things. When the day finally came, my Mom woke me up early in the morning and brought me outside. 

“Sorry, son,” Mom apologizes, “I can’t swim you to school today, so I signed you up to swim with the duck family.”

“That’s fine,” I respond. 

“Okay. Have fun at school.” Mom hugged me goodbye.

I swam up to the surface to meet the duck family. The little duck was Kevin, who was going to be my classmate. We spent the entire swim to school talking. It was nice to have someone to talk to other than my parents. There weren’t really any other fish or animals around where I live. When we arrived at the school we were greeted by the principal. An old bulldog with tiny spectacles, he had a large head with a soothing smile. 

“Good Morning everyone, I am Principal Hank,” the bulldog announced. “I just want to say that today everyone's first class will be Swimming with Mr. Swanson.”

Mr.Swanson wanted to start the year off by assessing us. I thought it would go fine. Except there was one problem: we were being graded. This made me nervous, I didn’t know how he was going to grade us without a standard. What made me more nervous was that I was first. What if I was a slow swimmer, compared to the other water animals? Well, at least I knew how to swim. Jones the squirrel was scared out of his mind. He paced back and forth and winced at the sight of water. For the assessment, we had to swim along the shore from point A to point B. Mr. Swanson demonstrated his swan dive and finished with a time of 24 seconds. What if that was the standard? Do we have to beat that impossible time to pass?

 I was at the starting line. The instant I heard the word “go”, I swam as fast as I could. There was still a chance of beating the record. I shattered Mr. Swanson’s time with 16 seconds! I could hear the entire class cheering; Kevin was screaming his head off. A wave of relief came over me. I knew that no matter what, I would get a good grade. Kevin was next, finishing with a time of 21 seconds. Mr. Swanson was so shocked at this that he came over and high-fived Kevin and patted me on the head.

“What a relief! I think it's guaranteed we get an A. We did beat the Instructor,” Kevin laughed.

Swimming makes one less thing to worry about--or so I thought. The rest of the class was made up of land animals, except for an eel. Jones the Squirrel sank like a rock. When Jones finished, it was Fluffy the Cat’s turn. Fluffy screeched after putting a toe in the water. All of us saw the disappointment in Swanson’s face. Mr. Swanson assumed everyone was a water and land creature like himself. When he saw that only 4 out of 32 could swim, he gave the rest of the class a 1/20 while giving us a 20/20. The water animals felt awful for our classmates, so we all agreed that tomorrow we wouldn’t try, so the animals could get a good grade. It was unfair to grade like that, but before we could talk with Mr. Swanson, the next class was announced: Running! My heart sank to the back of my chest. 

Everyone is nervous on the first day of school, but this feeling was different. This feeling was dread.

“You can just talk with the teacher and you’ll be fine,” Kevin comforted.

“Al--Alright,” I respond.

Kevin walked with me to the teacher, Coach Jack.

“Sir?” I asked nervously. “Do I--Do I sit out for running class?”

“Do you have a doctor’s note?” Coach replied. 

I started to tremor and swim back and forth. “Umm, Sir—Sir… ”

“But he’s a fish!” Kevin talked for me.

“That means he is a water animal. Are you discriminating against his kind? Just because some fish can’t walk doesn’t mean all fish can't walk,” Coach Jack said sternly. 

“Are you crazy! All fish can’t run!” Kevin yelled.

“See what I mean? That is stereotypical. And watch your tone there, young man!” Coach yelled.

“I can’t run knowing my friend is going to fail because of a clearly oblivious teacher!” Kevin exclaimed. Coach Jack was swelling up with anger.

Before Coach Jack could say anything, the eel from swimming class joined in: “I can't either.”

“This is outrageous!” Coach Jack stomped. “You three just earned yourself detention after school!”

Coach Jack was in the opposite of a fantastic mood, especially when I stayed in the water. He constantly tried to drag me on shore to run. When the other students saw this, they knew something was wrong.

“What are you doing?” Jones the Squirrel questioned.

“He won't--won’t participate in running,” Coach struggled, trying to catch me.

“Stop, I can’t—I can’t breathe on land,” I protested.

“Stop with the excuses! I’m not in a good mood, just cooperate,” Coach responded.

“But fish can’t swim. Stop it!” Jones exclaimed.

“What is wrong with you children!” Coach Jack gave up.

The rest of the students were crowding around Coach, trying to protect me. Tim the Turtle hid me under his shell, while George the Eaglet snuck behind Coach.

George was always a bit of a trouble maker, and now was no exception. This time he was doing it to help me. George picked up Coach Jack with his talons and dragged him away.

“How does it feel?” George taunted.

This unruly event became the start of many complaints and, some might even say, a rebellion. Weeks later, Coach Jack was fired and everyone tried to forget the events that happened. Complaints were still being sent and the school seemed as if it were about to come to an end, until Principal Hank sent out a letter.

* * * * *

Dear Parents, and Guardians of Animal School Students,

We have heard your complaints about our educational system. The system comes with many pros and cons, so try to see the situation from our perspective. We believe our children should be well-rounded, instead of being like a one-trick human. This opens a plethora of skills and opportunities for the kids (not just goats). The most important would be for safety. Who knows when the children might have to climb a tree to escape? Maybe they fell into a lake where they could drown, or even fish could wash ashore. The skills taught at Animal School would prepare them for those situations. Safety should be a priority for a parent, right before happiness. Our children need to discover what they love. 

When I was a young pup, my favorite activity was running. I would always race to the top of a hill with my friends or play games like Tag. One day my friends and I raced around a lake. I was so scared of falling in the lake that I didn’t pay attention to anything in front of me. Ironically, I tripped on a tree root and fell into the lake. I started to kick my legs frantically and swung my arms, and I found myself swimming. I loved it. Even today I swim every weekend at that same lake. This is the reason I created Animal School, to help children learn their true potential. Perhaps I shouldn't have to push the kids to do the impossible. Next school year, I will implement new classes personalized for the students. Fish no longer have to take running or climbing, but will learn jumping out of the water. Ducks will be able to take modified running, and no longer need climbing. I hope this satisfies your complaints, but just remember to encourage your children to learn new things. 

Sincerely, 

Principal Hank

Clearly, Oliver thoroughly understands the messages of the original story, and I applaud his sequel, which is more memorable even than the original story!

Use It or Lose It: Keeping Writing Skills Sharp Outside of Classes

          As in physical exercise, if you don't use your writing skills and creative energy for a while, you'll lose them (well, not exactly lose, but you'll definitely make it harder to regain your "literary fitness level" after a long hiatus). Here are three suggestions for exercises to keep your writing and critical reading skills active on your own:

• Regularly practice critical reading by writing responses on sticky notes AS YOU READ, and sticking them throughout your books. Practicing active reading this way, even with your summer "pleasure reading," will sharpen your skills and keep you actively engaged in the reading experience for maximum mental fitness! This technique will keep you attuned to admirable writing techniques that you wish to enhance for your own works, too. Use sticky notes to enable you to flip back through the book later to review what specific passages compelled, concerned, intrigued, or inspired you. (This advanced "flagging" of important lines in literature will surely benefit you when you return to school to write literary response essays or research papers: you can collect in advance, so to speak, quotations that might illuminate themes or exemplify character- or plot-building, which you can easily find later, when writing an essay.) Note the exemplary writing techniques (figurative language, imagery, rhetorical beauty of the prose, etc.) that you wish to emulate, and note why you appreciate them; note hints of plot events to come and make predictions to sharpen your observational skills; note subtle secondary or symbolic meanings that underscore the theme, and note why these implications are important to you; note expressions or events that remind you of other works--in any art form--as well as related experiences from your own life. Active reading will exercise your powers of observation and analogous thinking, while simultaneously entering your subconscious to improve your own writing. Here is a link to an article to read and use for practice in developing your active reading skills: http://www.aplithelp.com/annotation-for-smarties-5-tips-for-teaching-students-active-reading-and-critical-thinking/.  

 

• Use and make lists to generate ideas. For example, make a daily list of emotional observations, with any title you want. You might list: Things I Did/Noticed Today that Made Me Feel Relaxed; or People I Miss and Why I Miss Them; or What I Planned To Do Today and What I Actually Did; or What Made Me Angry/Disappointed/Sad/Lonely/Joyful Today, etc. Lists of your own devising can illuminate a lot about YOU to study and turn into stories, too. Also make lists of objects and/or people you notice, randomly, and turn them into parts of a story. The great Ray Bradbury advocated list-making to generate creativity; check this out: https://www.brainpickings.org/2013/10/18/ray-bradbury-on-lists/ . Find lists of writing prompts and see what triggers you to write for 15 or more minutes. Here's a list for you: 365-creative-writing-prompts. And here's another great source for conjuring stories from lists (one sample page from the link is pictured below): https://www.ourboox.com/books/coming-up-with-ideas-for-childrens-books-with-dr-alon-amit/

• Take a novel, short story, or poem that you haven't read (yet) and jot down the first line on a blank paper, or type it onto a blank computer document. Continue from that line to write a story or poem that uses the same tone and diction set by the line you borrowed. When you feel that you have finished a scene with a beginning, middle, and end, set it aside and read the work from which you borrowed the opening line. Notice how yours picked up on the language used to create your own ideas; notice any similarities and differences between the path of your work versus the work from which you borrowed. Now go back and change your opening line to make the story/poem entirely your own.

          Those are just a few ideas for exercising your literary muscles this summer. Feel free to share your thoughts for creative sparks or your results from trying these prompts, below....