An Army of Curious Eyes

Today we had parent teacher conferences for Max and Mia. It was the first one for Max, and the first time Cindy and I have been able to attend as a couple. It was awesome to hold hands and sit across from our children’s teachers in tiny seats that made me feel even more Lurch-like than my 6’3” frame usually does. Neither conference held any surprises, but then again, they were more for confirming our thoughts than anything else. I only mention them because they serve as preamble to today’s story.

The writer’s workshop Cindy teaches to the fourth grade students fell an hour before our first scheduled conference. We drove in to school together. I sat in the library pretending to work while Cindy taught her lesson and pretended not to notice me watching.

Because of the conference schedule, the students had a minimum day. If you remember from your days in school as I remember from mine, this meant most of the students were counting the minutes until the final bell and strongly resenting any work preceding their early dismissal. This accounted for the few scattered moans and groans which loudened the library when Cindy concluded her lesson on Shel Silverstein and asked the class to finish the day with fifteen minutes of free poetry writing.

“Would you like me to do the assignment, Mrs. Platt?” I asked, raising my hand.

A few children chuckled. Cindy smiled. “Yes, Mr. Platt,” she said. “I would like that very much.” She handed me a sheet of paper.

I noted the army of curious eyes on me, scribbled for a few minutes, then laid down my pen and went back to the laptop. When time was called, Cindy asked if I would read my work out loud to the class.

The collective smiles plastered on the sea of little faces just two minutes later is a sight I can’t get out of my head. If this is what being a children’s author is going to be like, I’m fully on board and can’t wait to hand the conductor my ticket.

While writing, I thought little of audience reaction. I was merely trying to support Cindy while also showing the students that they should be listening rather than speaking, that writing can be both fun and powerful, and that there’s not much to it other than allowing your mind to start moving that pen across the paper. I certainly didn’t expect the response. Yet smile for smile, it might have been the best ten minutes of writing I’ve ever spent.

The children were enchanted. Even more, they were stirred. It wasn’t that they were impressed, necessarily, it was that at least a few of them were visibly inspired. Some of the children merely saw a magic trick and wore a “how did he do that?” sort of wonder on their faces. This delighted me, of course, as I love to think of my little ditties as verbal slights of hand, but what I truly loved in that moment were the other looks, the ones etched deeper into their expressions.

The ones that said, “I wonder if I can do that too?”

The answer is yes, absolutely. All it takes is a lot of practice, until familiarity with the words and their innate rhythm is an extension of instinct. Yet children do this already, whether it is with their feet anticipating the skip of a rope, their minds memorizing the levels of a video game, or their tongues tasting the sequence of words that will get them their way.

I hope the emotion wasn’t fleeting, and that at least a few of those children in the library will remember the moment and take it with them, wherever they may choose to go. I know for me, I found deeper purpose in my writing today.

Cindy stole my original, but she let me have it long enough to copy it here.

Enjoy!

4th graders are awesome, though best when they listen
Instead of the blah-blah-ing that gets them to missing
The info the teachers are spitting and spewing
To let the kids know what they’re supposed to be doing
Writing is fun – it’s like cake and balloons
On a Saturday morning spent watching cartoons
Except writing is better because you get to choose
What things you should keep and what things you should lose
You’re the creator – the world’s yours to build
Who gets to live there and how it is filled
Unicorns, dragons and men with red eyes;
Fairies and magic, an ending surprise
Fantasy’s fun if you break every rule
Decide what is dumb and decide what is cool
Be your best writer, place pen to the page
Write the best story, then be all the rage

Writer Dad

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