This post is a day late–I didn’t feel like writing yesterday because I was in a “knit all day” kinda mood. I’m getting ready for a craft show in a month but before I can get to knitting doggy sweaters, I am trying to get a baby sweater made for a friend that was promised for delivery several months ago.
I was going to skip age 7 since I didn’t post yesterday but it was when I was 7 that I began to write.
My teacher’s name was Mrs.Hansen and she ended up retiring the year after I was in her class. She was a sweet, neat older lady that had a lot of patience with the kids that made an effort in her class and very impatient with those children that didn’t try. But by the end of the year she pretty much had everyone pumped about learning.
I was smart in school. In the first grade I read more books in the reading program than any of the other children. It wasn’t because I wanted to win the grand prize–a free pizza–for reading the most books, I just really loved reading. By the time I was in the second grade I was considered a book worm. There is a picture of me at this age on a camping trip–I’m all by myself in a lounge back chair heavily involved in a book. There is another picture of when I got up out of the chair–it had mud in it or something that I hadn’t seen and the seat of my pants were black. I began to wear glasses in the second grade if I remember right but apparently I still couldn’t see!
Ms.Hansen had paper with lines at the bottom and a spot at the top for a picture. She would give us a writing assignment, like write about a memory or something like that. The first story I remember writing that Mrs.Hansen loved was the one about the rain cycle told from the point of view of a raindrop. The other story I remember she liked a lot was about my family dog Prissy that had passed away when I was 5 or 6. I loved Prissy–she guarded me like one of her own puppies. She even growled at my grandaddy one time and wouldn’t let him in the yard till my mom came out and told her to back off. She was a good little doggy and when she passed away my mom told me that she was in heaven watching me now. So in my story it was Prissy in heaven, laying on a cloud and watching over me. What was so cool though, is that Ms.Hansen encouraged us to draw and we never wrote a story without giving it pictures.
She taught us the process of writing. Brain storming, rough draft, editing, final draft, etc. When I would go to daycare after school I would begin to write. It felt good to be creative and create things out of nothing. I hated daycare. If you didn’t have homework you had to sit in front of the tv till your mom came to get you. I would sit at the table and pretend to have homework everyday. Sometimes I would be writing when my mom would show up which was the goal and sometimes I had to watch TV.
I discovered my joy of writing at a young age and it is something that has lasted all these years. My mom kept those stories I first wrote in Ms.Hansen’s class–wish I could share them. I think that would be so neat.