Now we’re getting into the weeds. A couple of my books written for kids have been lost to the world, probably for the better. To be honest, these stories were never written to see the light of day other than for those from my classroom. In any event, here’s how this journey began.
The writing curriculum in elementary school is often lacking. It was in 1999, and I might argue it is in 2025. The same could be said about initial seat work before the bell rings. One way to combat both situations was to start a journal regiment.
On Mondays, the kids pulled out their spiral-bound notebooks and wrote about their weekends. Why this topic? It was obvious! Second graders love to tell teachers all about their lives, and having over 20 seven year olds vying for my ears at 8:00 in the morning…well, I didn’t drink coffee at that point in my career, but it would’ve helped. We spent the first ten minutes writing to our hearts’ content, followed by a sharing period. If a child wanted to share their writing, I was an active listener. If he didn’t, I was cool with that. I was a shy kid. I get it.
On Friday, the kids were given options. I would place on the board a variety of story starters. Some were prompts, others were photographs, and I always placed a “You Chose” sign as an option. We called it “Friday Free Write.”
Guess who wrote with them? Me! I wanted to lead by example. I also shared my goofball stories. The kids loved it. They all asked I write a story about each one of them. I obliged. It continued for years.
In May 2001, I wondered what I might give the kids as an end of year gift. Somewhere in my twenty-five year old noggin, I decided to compile my stories into a book that I would hand to the kids on the last day of school. This has continued for a few years. I do have a few missing years. The 2001 book is lost. I’m pretty sure I didn’t write a story in 2019 because I was knee-deep in my Arie series. In 2020, the pandemic ended our year two months early. And I can’t for the life of me figure out what happened in 2008. I’m certain it was my Hemingway masterpiece.
Are my older stories any good? Are my current stories any good? Honestly, my students never seemed to care. They just loved starring in a story they could read. I do hear back from former students. Many of them keep my gift books as mementos. Some love to ask me if I recall their story. We’re talking about fourth graders, middle schoolers, and high school seniors. I love that!
Here’s the kicker: they have taught me so much about myself. I love writing. I love creating something out of nothing. I love how my quirky personality can ooze out on the page (or the screen) like some sort of multi-colored slime devouring the countryside. I love doing something kids enjoy while covertly teaching them about reading and writing.
If I ever get a chance, I’m going to redo my old stories. Many of them are typed in some convoluted layout that jumbled up chapters. These stories remind me of each student I’ve taught, all 600+ of them. They are all important to me; they shaped who I am.