Write Something Dear
It's hot. It's late. I can't think.
When I work, I tend to drift, a song plays in my head and I'm somewhere else. I come back to my work to see thirty mintues have passed. It's that vapour trail that swirls up from my cup of white hot chocolate. "You look concerned," she said to me. "I think a lot," I said. What do I think about? What did I think about? My mind goes blank a lot, is what I meant to say.
Yippee I'm hired today. I'll have 33 students in my creative writing class. The class is one hour long. So if each student reads their work, they'll have just over a minute each. Then class dismissed. I don't want it to become a creative writing lecture. Boys and girls, let's take notes on grammar. This is how you use the present perfect. I don't want to make my kids hate English class the way I did when I was in high school. I loved English as a subject but English class was brutal. I especially hate it when they take Shakespeare apart in a way that looks like they know more than what Shakespeare had planned to do. I just want to break out of this box, this box that makes school rather boring, and meaningless. We read Shakespeare and study literary devices not knowing what the point is. There's no point in doing something if you can't relate! So boys and girls, write about something that's dear to you. Too broad. Too abstract. They stare at me blank. Dear to me? What means? Computer games?
Tomorrow, our topic is Why I Write. One time I actually sat down and jotted down my reasons and came up with about 30 of them. I'll blog it one day.
More closer to the matter, why blog? Why do I get upset when I miss a day of blogging (especially when it isn't like anyone's reading my blog). Why? What explains?
The window's open, light breeze, but still hard to think. Maybe I'm tired. I'm getting panda eyes from a lack of sleep. Pandas eat sugar canes. Panda is the name of my Primary One English Reader in Hong Kong. It begins with 'Tom is a boy. Siu-Ming is a girl. "Hello," says Tom...'
When I work, I tend to drift, a song plays in my head and I'm somewhere else. I come back to my work to see thirty mintues have passed. It's that vapour trail that swirls up from my cup of white hot chocolate. "You look concerned," she said to me. "I think a lot," I said. What do I think about? What did I think about? My mind goes blank a lot, is what I meant to say.
Yippee I'm hired today. I'll have 33 students in my creative writing class. The class is one hour long. So if each student reads their work, they'll have just over a minute each. Then class dismissed. I don't want it to become a creative writing lecture. Boys and girls, let's take notes on grammar. This is how you use the present perfect. I don't want to make my kids hate English class the way I did when I was in high school. I loved English as a subject but English class was brutal. I especially hate it when they take Shakespeare apart in a way that looks like they know more than what Shakespeare had planned to do. I just want to break out of this box, this box that makes school rather boring, and meaningless. We read Shakespeare and study literary devices not knowing what the point is. There's no point in doing something if you can't relate! So boys and girls, write about something that's dear to you. Too broad. Too abstract. They stare at me blank. Dear to me? What means? Computer games?
Tomorrow, our topic is Why I Write. One time I actually sat down and jotted down my reasons and came up with about 30 of them. I'll blog it one day.
More closer to the matter, why blog? Why do I get upset when I miss a day of blogging (especially when it isn't like anyone's reading my blog). Why? What explains?
The window's open, light breeze, but still hard to think. Maybe I'm tired. I'm getting panda eyes from a lack of sleep. Pandas eat sugar canes. Panda is the name of my Primary One English Reader in Hong Kong. It begins with 'Tom is a boy. Siu-Ming is a girl. "Hello," says Tom...'
posted by Adam C at
1:15 AM
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