Writing a Story

I've decided to transfer some of the stories I've written in my Writer's Notebook to this page. The Writer's Notebook is what we make for my classroom. It is where we write the first draft. I start out the year by teaching them from Lucy Calkins that anyone can think up a story about one's own life by thinking of three things:

1) people
2) places
3) things

First, you make a list of people, then choose one of them, and write down a short list of things you've done with that person. Then, you choose one of the things, and write a story. You're not telling everything you've ever done with that person--just one thing. Then, if you want, you can write about more things. Or you can choose another person from the list, and write something you did with them, or something that happened to you and them.

You do the same thing with the "places" and "things" sections. "Things" can also include pets. The trick is that it should be a story--with a beginning, middle and end. You're not just writing a description, or telling about the person, place, or thing. But you're telling about an event.

It is amazingly hard for some students to tell a story. It is a challenge every year to get them to tell a story. I usually get a lot of summaries, in one or two sentences. So, we draw the story arc (an ascending line that peaks, then drops) and try to sketch in what happened, and that often helps them to understand how to tell a story. Add in the English-as-their-second-language aspect of their lives, and you can see why it is hard for them to tell a story. But, we never give up!

I always sit and write when they are writing, so that they can see that it is possible for people to sit and write for an extended period of time--20 minutes or so. I've ended up with a really cool notebook of stories after teaching writing to fourth graders for several years.  Here's an account I wrote in my "things" section.

Shoes

Not only was I in a new school, but I was the tallest, skinniest girl in my class. Then, there were my shoes. They were gray, laced-up, granny shoes, prescribed by an orthopedist. My feet had been hurting for several years, and after my mom and I visited the doctor, we left with these "corrective shoes." 

I had started sixth grade in the new elementary school in town, after spending K-5 in the little one-classroom school two miles from our farm. So, I knew very few people in my new class, and I was determined to make some new friends, and be popular. But, during the summer, my mom took me to a foot doctor to see why my flat feet got such sharp pains in the instep so often. I took off my sneakers, and stood down on the floor for the doctor, and he looked at my feet and turned to my mom to say, "Those are the worst feet I've ever seen."  I remember him saying this, but maybe he didn't really say it. At any rate, they were terrible feet. So, he prescribed the helpful shoes. Helpful, ugly, grandma-looking, icky gray shoes. Everyone else was wearing Keds or Go-Go boots. 

I always tried to just ignore my shoes, but this recess period, we were confined to our classroom because it was snowing vigorously outside. I watched the boys playing a game where they tried to see who could keep their balance longer as they stood foot-to-foot and ... I can't remember all the rules. Suddenly, there was an argument about whose foot moved first.They looked up, and saw me watching. So, I helpfully butted right in with my opinion. But, I made the mistake of sticking my foot out, and moving it, to show them what I meant. Suddenly, everyone in the room was staring at my ugly, gray, grandma shoes at the end of my skinny leg, with the white anklet socks. 

I quickly pulled my foot back in under my desk, but it was too late. I'd drawn all their attention to the most unattractive part of me. I couldn't believe how embarrassed I was. I hated the doctor, and I hated my stupid feet. 

The End