| The write stuff |
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| Community Living - Community Living | |||
| Written by Ray Weikal | |||
| Thursday, 03 December 2009 00:00 | |||
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Northland Writing Academy forges better teachers with collaboration Like disparate words summoned and ordered to make the substance of prose and poetry, teachers from across the Northland gathered to form a fellowship committed to helping their students master the art of writing. With members drawn from Liberty Public Schools, Park Hill School District and North Kansas City Schools, the first ever Northland Writing Academy was held this summer at the Northwest Missouri State University site in Liberty. Together, these teachers willingly stepped back in to the role of students and spent several days sharpening their own skills on the hard, educational edge of a writer’s workshop. At the end, they had their own crafted work — some of which can be read here — and a much better idea of how to reach their young pupils. Going through the process of writing a piece, having it critiqued by academy teachers and other members, then rewriting proved to be a great way to learning how to teach that same process to students, according to Hawthorn Elementary School teacher Jera Ahrens. “We truly shifted away from a teaching environment to a learning environment,” she said. “I think the piece that really helped me was the coaching part.” Ahrens described how she and the other academy participants spent an entire day just working with play dough, collaborating to make slight and significant changes to each piece. The end results were impressive, Ahrens said, and everyone realized how that same mechanism could apply to writing. “We learned to trust the process,” she said. Ahrens was able to return to her classroom this fall and incorporate the writing workshop format into her lessons. It’s been very gratifying for Ahrens to watch her students take ownership of the writing process. “The students are giving and receiving praise,” Ahrens said. “They’re becoming the coaches themselves.” That concept of collaboration is what made Jim Dunn really excited about the Northland Writing Academy. Dunn is the director of professional development for Park Hill School District and one of the people who was instrumental in the formation of the academy, along with Colleen Jones of Liberty Public Schools and Nancy Clemens of North Kansas City Schools. Though they may serve different communities, Dunn, Jones and Clemens recognized they all have the same goal: Help their students become better writers. The academy was conceived as a way to leverage the public resources of the three districts, which provided instructors from their own faculties. “I think one of the most exciting things about this academy was that it was a collaborative effort,” Dunn said. “It’s helping all of our teachers improve their classroom instruction.” Lifelong learning was the real secret of the academy’s success, according to Clemens. Teachers need to revisit their roles as students on a regular basis in order to stay sharp, Clemens said. That’s professional development. “The way to increase student learning is to increase adult learning,” Clemens said. “I appreciate the fact that we have districts and school boards that value adult learning.” The academy was also produced with the partnership of Northwest Missouri State University and the Greater Kansas City Writing Project. The university provided facilities, textbooks and compensation for the academy instructors, according to Dunn. Writing project Executive Director Mickey Dyer also taught classes. University officials were very impressed with the academy and would like to promote similar measures in other educational fields, according to Terry Barman, director of the school’s Liberty campus. “I think it’s a celebration to see three school districts cooperate the way they did,” Barman said. “We have made a tremendous step forward in the education of our youth.”
By Vicki Jones I am a yellow Missouri primrose opening in the sunshine to The rude “blaaaght” of Jacob’s sheep in our way back.
My legs jiggle anxiously in anticipation of tomorrow. I am a vortex of whirling energy – until I sink into the solace of my tapestry reading chair; Warm sourdough bread, fresh from the oven, comforts me.
I am Barcelona’s Las Ramblas encircled by fragrant fresh flowers, Chirping yellow canaries and roasting coffee give pause – and then, I cruise in my merlot-colored car, utilizing all six cylinders, Hastening home.
My grandmother’s ghost fingers play through mine with panache.
By Rena Hawkins I am a cream-filled, home-made cupcake, Disappearing from Great Grandma’s dessert plate, My remains smeared across the chin of an ornery boy, And crumbs trailed across a gleaming hardwood.
Accompanied by an ottoman, I hold a young reader on my lap, Engrossed in the discovery, fascination, and merriment of her word-filled pages.
Swarmed by buzzing bees who have the power to suck me dry, I am plucked and treasured by the smallest hands, To be gifted and admired by her curious blue eyes.
Tuned to belly-aching laughs and the chorus of “Are we there yet?” My exhaust leaks togetherness, adventure, and havoc, Rolling towards the Spring Break Badlands or Fort Desoto’s summer refuge.
Arms outstretched to 3 rays of sunshine. I am the lingering release, arms moving to my side--prayerful, vigilant, Eyes fixed on those I will forevermore cradle and nurture.
The world holds so much for you.
For it is 1, 2, 3 ... By Denise VanSickle I believe that life is a baseball game. The word “Believe” display on the back of the Royals blue shirt in white letters. Don’t they realize it has only been 24 years since there has been a World Series win? I watch the game from the hard, dark blue seat with a hot dog and a cool drink in hand, pink t-shirt and pink hat sport the name of choice, Royals. This is so much more than just a game. It’s life~each player has several chances several opportunities to hit or score. Whoosh goes the ball, swing goes the bat, missed. Whoosh goes the ball, swing goes the bat again, yet another strike. The pitcher winds up and throws his third pitch whoosh as the wooden bat whops the ball gliding it into the blue sky. The crowd cheers. The music pipes over the loudspeaker, the announcer screams, the task is too great. It is 400 feet high. “It’s gone!” The crowd jumps, cheers, and yells. The announcer shares the home run record. He rounds the bases each one methodically touching on the padded white square in which his metal spikes prick. He rounds first base then strides to second. The crowd excitedly continues as he nears third base only to strike it with his spikes then off to home. Each person is out of their seats cheering, yelling as he stomps on the rubber pentagon. His team jumps out of the dugout. Each player enthusiastically high fives and greets the player with excitement. The love of the game is why they support, laugh, enjoy, live and believe in baseball. The colors are worn to show their invisible names which are sported. Families are born, friends are formed, schools are created, neighborhoods are built. Life is a baseball game. Life happens, while the pitches are thrown. The balls are missed, strikes are made. Mistakes happen. The player continues with the teams’ support, encouragement and belief that everything will be alright. They continue to clap, cheer, and yell for the very good thing that is going to be next. The music plays as we triumph in celebration. The bases are touched as you take life in stride making sure to have all bases covered. The strikes in life happen and you continue to take chances. You will find out what happens. Life is about taking chances. The goal is too great, the wall too high to reach….but maybe, just maybe you can get there. The love of life is why they support, encourage, laugh, enjoy, live and believe in you. We believe…we believe that anything is possible. For it is 1….2….3…..!
Life’s Journey By Jera Ahrens I am a graceful run on a warm spring day through the neighborhood. The stress melting away with every pounding footstep. I am a giraffe who reaches its long neck to eat from the best leaves at the top of a tree. The stretch sometimes a struggle, but always worth the reach to dine from the top. I am a shiny and sleek black 330i BMW with chrome wheels gliding through the city. Those silent wheels turning as I make my wayward way through the world. I am the round kitchen table at which my family prays and converses. A place where daily events, laughs, and tears are shared with those I love the most. I am a salad full of ingredients that are all mixed up. Emotions that are tossed about by life’s defining moments. I am a piano pounding out life’s song while making a beautiful noise. A noise sometimes quiet and pleasing….sometimes loud and brash. I am rain washing away the bitterness of the day and leaving the world refreshed for a new tomorrow. The anxiety of the day cleansed and a fresh start lying at the doorstep. I am an oak holding strong through life’s whirlwind of happenings. I lean toward the sun looking for warmth upon my face. I am the hope hiding behind my brown eyes. The hope that believes in the end good will trump evil. I am…..me.
Untitled I am a tumbling mountain river, cascading with merriment at the adventures downstream, a plunging, bubbling froth, never stagnate;
ADVENTURE!
Staff writer Ray Weikal can be reached at 389-6637 or This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .
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