EKU Writing Project

I'm no real student of history, and I probably know more Irish history than that of my own nation. I don't think that makes me necessarily any less patriotic or deserving of my citizenship than anyone else, but it does suggest a gap in my learning. The gap is definitely in my learning, not in the instruction I had available to me: I still remember crusty old Mr. Crews, my high school US History, and maybe even crustier Dr. Bob at UK, who filled three or four chalkboards every class period with notes he'd bring to life. Nonetheless, surprisingly little of it stuck with me.

I was reminded of my lack of historical knowledge yesterday when I visited the Madison County Public Library, and discovered their latest curricular push featuring a couple "well-known" historical figures. I can't say I recognized George Washington Carver, and I won't brag that my familiarity with the hundred dollar bill helped me identify Ben Franklin, but I could tell Franklin was Franklin and the "Who Am I" placard that accompanied each let me quickly - impressively so, if I do say so myself - name Carver.

If there's any content area where my deficiencies are more apparent than in history, it's science (oh, and math, even more so in math - and, yes, I recognize that's quite a list). My snooping around the library revealed that the real initiative isn't history, or even inventors, but science. I was particularly struck by the informative "Think Like a Scientist" display, because it connected with content-area learning language we use in the writing project and, for kids, encouraged them to spend their summer inquiring, investigating, wondering, and discovering. Kind of like we do in the Writing Project, really.

I'll be honest, I didn't see a bunch of kids running around hypothesizing and filling out lab reports. There were lots of kids, though, and they couldn't help but encounter Franklin and Carver. I can only assume that some of them accepted each man's challenge to guess "Who Am I." And with that simple act alone, perhaps they recognized the sort of curiosity that leads to the next great invention.

Life moves in waves. Moments pick us up and carry us forward. Moments drop us, throw us down, threaten to drag us under.

Center Hill Lake. Fishing. Hiking. Reading a book. Backing in the boat. Pulling it out and watching the water pour down splashing into the lake from which it came.

Silver Creek. We are washed by the water, our thirst quenched by the rain. Let's go down to the river to pray. He who drinks of my water shall never thirst again.

Gulf of Mexico. Grown up. Down with OPP. Enya's Sail Away at 80 mph. Panama-Destin-Sandestin. Ft. Myers. Mobile.

Atlantic Ocean. Waking at 4 a.m. to ride in the car all day. Jelly fish. Man o' War. Feeling the waves as I lay in bed at night. Then... again... I hope the wart hand wins. Red hair; red shoulders. Freckles on the nose. Boogie boards. I want to go to the beach. I want to go to Bennett's.

Irish Sea. The snotgreen sea. The River Liffey. The River Liffey? Oh yeah, the River Liffey.

Owsley Fork. On the water's edge, I do. Light green top, ivory skirt. Wind blowing. A picture of my now, my future. Rings for three, please. Happily ever after.

Several years ago I gave up the red pen. I had seen the research on the damaging psychological effect of teachers’ red comments on student papers. For a while, I used whatever was handy, as long as it wasn’t red, and as long as it still stood out on students’ written work. Ideally, I might have given up not just the red pen, but the pen altogether, replacing handwritten feedback with online comments in a utopian paperless world. But I haven’t gotten there yet. I likely will someday, since we probably face that brave new world where students will wonder what we mean when we talk about how we had to write our homework with our hands. Until then, though, I’ve settled into a practice I’m pretty comfortable with, and one that quickly takes on its own identity with my students each semester… the green pen.

Writing with a green pen takes planning – my wife buys me a pack at the start of each year, because I like the Pilot G-2 gel pens best and really nothing else will do. I don’t lend them out, and I have two or three in my briefcase, and often one in my pocket, too, at all times. Every Sunday, for example, one of my green pens goes with me to church, where I carefully underline in my Bible. And I give to Caesar what is Caesar’s too: I sign all my family’s checks in green, which means I have green ink traveling to businesses all over the place.

Writing with a green pen leaves an impression. It’s almost definite that when students turn in handwritten work it’s in pencil or blue or black ink or, sometimes, purple or pink. But pretty much never green. So students learn very quickly that green is all mine. When I leave lots of comments, students can’t say I bled all over their paper, but I have heard mutters about grass stains…

Finally, nostalgically, green connects me to Ireland, and I share that romanticized link with my students by way of explanation. It doesn’t make the criticism any softer, I suppose, but maybe they understand that, hey, Dr. Hunter’s writing a lot on my paper; he sure must be thinking about Ireland a lot.

We've finally really started the Summer Institute here at the EKU Writing Project. We started, haltingly, over the past month or so, but this year's endless winter pushed our "official" start back more than a week. It felt weird, having a Writing Retreat more than a month before we began the SI proper, and it felt weird to have our first day actually be "only" an afternoon/evening. We had few options, really, since so many of this year's Fellows were still in school even up through yesterday, June 10th. More than that, at least two or three of these folks are still supposed to be in school today and tomorrow, but have principals who believe in the professional development capacity of the Writing Project enough that they let the teachers spend their days here instead of at their schools. So yesterday's sprint session felt different but, honestly, it felt good. Teachers came in energized - those that are still in school don't have students now - and we were able to focus on only a couple goals for the "day."

Starting the way we have has given the SI's facilitators and me a new perspective. I didn't hate the afternoon session and am thinking about deliberately building a couple of those into the schedule next year. When we all came right back this morning, it's almost like we never left. The momentum our first evening built carried forward. Sure the coffee was drained pretty quickly this morning, but we're rolling now. And something tells me we won't stop for weeks.

We've made more changes to this year's SI, and I'll capture those details here over the coming days and weeks. We're moving around some. We're bringing in different TC's, for different purposes than before. We're changing the Demonstration schedule dramatically. It's exciting to experiment, but to do so wisely, always seeking what's best and most effective. And it's worth sharing.