A look into my fourth grade classroom today...
In writing we have been building a "Writing Strategies" section in our notebooks so that as students have time to free write, they have a section to go back to to refresh their memories on topics they would like to write about.
One strategy is Making a List. Last week made a list of our 'Best Life Events.' Today we made a list of our 'Worst Life Events.' Before the kids dove into making their lists, they watched me model making my list and as I have been making my list, I have shared a few of my stories from each list to give them a little glimpse into life.
I have learned through this that I love storytelling. Not only do I love storytelling, but I love storytelling with fourth graders. They love every story!! They laugh with such excitement and they look on with eager anticipation for what's to come next in the story. It's wonderful.
Today, I chose to tell them a few stories of events that were on my 'Worst Life Events.' I shared about the time I had to get 16 stitches, getting my wisdom teeth out and how my dad was in the hospital (a couple times!)
I chose the next story for last, because I just knew that they would absolutely love this story. So here it is (a shortened version without as much enthusiasm!)
When I turned 14 I was not very eager to drive, as most 14 year olds are. Turning 14 in January, I did not get my driver's permit until April.
One night after attending Chaos, (a Wednesday night church program) my dad told me I was going to drive home. After exchanging a few "No, it's really okay" and "No, you're going to drive home" a few times, I finally got in the driver's seat.
Our house was literally 2-3 miles away from the church, but even still, I drove very slow the whole way home. I pulled in the driveway and stopped right outside the garage, put the car in park and said, "Okay, you can pull it in the garage," in my little 8th grade voice.
My dad insisted on me pulling the car into the garage. Yet again, we went back and forth a couple of times. You see, my dad drove a wide car and there is not a whole lot of clearance on the sides. I gave every excuse in book from as simple as, "I don't want to" to "I won't be able to do it" to "Your car is way too big" to "I won't know when to stop."
Lovingly, my dad encourage me to do it and somehow I knew I was not going to get out of this one. He told me he would let me know when to stop and told me I could do it.
So, with his confidence, I pulled forward, slowly, inch by inch, painfully slow. My dad continued to encourage me, "Keep going, keep going, c'mon."
We finally reached the front of the garage and I heard my dad say the words, "Okay, hit the brake."
.... You know where this is going ...
Before I knew it, the car was slammed against the back of the garage. Instead of moving my foot to the break, I slammed on the gas and sent the car straight into the back. My mom could hear the sound from across the house, upstairs.
I have never been shown so much mercy. After my dad was able to convince me to hit the BRAKE and then to reverse the car and put it in park-- he told me it would be alright. Not once did he raise his voice. He said, "It's okay, the car will be fine, are you okay?" I was in shock and had tears strolling down my face a gut wrenching fear of what was to come, but it never came. So much mercy.
To this day my brothers remind me of this story often. And I am reminded of this story as the force of the car hitting the wall caused our kitchen countertops to shift a little. and there is a little bit of a difference between the countertops in my parents' kitchen-- the front edge doesn't quite line up evenly.
So, while telling this story, my fourth grade students are waiting with anticipation for what's to come next and they are laughing hysterically when I tell them that I slammed into the front of the house. They had so many questions to follow including:
However, my favorite question was this:
Do you think, sometime, your dad could come visit our class?
And the class echoed, "Yeaaaaaaahh!!"
So dad, they are dying to meet the man who survived teaching his only daughter to drive!
And P.S.- they'd love to hear more stories if ya got em!
In writing we have been building a "Writing Strategies" section in our notebooks so that as students have time to free write, they have a section to go back to to refresh their memories on topics they would like to write about.
One strategy is Making a List. Last week made a list of our 'Best Life Events.' Today we made a list of our 'Worst Life Events.' Before the kids dove into making their lists, they watched me model making my list and as I have been making my list, I have shared a few of my stories from each list to give them a little glimpse into life.
I have learned through this that I love storytelling. Not only do I love storytelling, but I love storytelling with fourth graders. They love every story!! They laugh with such excitement and they look on with eager anticipation for what's to come next in the story. It's wonderful.
Today, I chose to tell them a few stories of events that were on my 'Worst Life Events.' I shared about the time I had to get 16 stitches, getting my wisdom teeth out and how my dad was in the hospital (a couple times!)
I chose the next story for last, because I just knew that they would absolutely love this story. So here it is (a shortened version without as much enthusiasm!)
When I turned 14 I was not very eager to drive, as most 14 year olds are. Turning 14 in January, I did not get my driver's permit until April.
One night after attending Chaos, (a Wednesday night church program) my dad told me I was going to drive home. After exchanging a few "No, it's really okay" and "No, you're going to drive home" a few times, I finally got in the driver's seat.
Our house was literally 2-3 miles away from the church, but even still, I drove very slow the whole way home. I pulled in the driveway and stopped right outside the garage, put the car in park and said, "Okay, you can pull it in the garage," in my little 8th grade voice.
My dad insisted on me pulling the car into the garage. Yet again, we went back and forth a couple of times. You see, my dad drove a wide car and there is not a whole lot of clearance on the sides. I gave every excuse in book from as simple as, "I don't want to" to "I won't be able to do it" to "Your car is way too big" to "I won't know when to stop."
Lovingly, my dad encourage me to do it and somehow I knew I was not going to get out of this one. He told me he would let me know when to stop and told me I could do it.
So, with his confidence, I pulled forward, slowly, inch by inch, painfully slow. My dad continued to encourage me, "Keep going, keep going, c'mon."
We finally reached the front of the garage and I heard my dad say the words, "Okay, hit the brake."
.... You know where this is going ...
Before I knew it, the car was slammed against the back of the garage. Instead of moving my foot to the break, I slammed on the gas and sent the car straight into the back. My mom could hear the sound from across the house, upstairs.
I have never been shown so much mercy. After my dad was able to convince me to hit the BRAKE and then to reverse the car and put it in park-- he told me it would be alright. Not once did he raise his voice. He said, "It's okay, the car will be fine, are you okay?" I was in shock and had tears strolling down my face a gut wrenching fear of what was to come, but it never came. So much mercy.
To this day my brothers remind me of this story often. And I am reminded of this story as the force of the car hitting the wall caused our kitchen countertops to shift a little. and there is a little bit of a difference between the countertops in my parents' kitchen-- the front edge doesn't quite line up evenly.
So, while telling this story, my fourth grade students are waiting with anticipation for what's to come next and they are laughing hysterically when I tell them that I slammed into the front of the house. They had so many questions to follow including:
- How big was the dent in the wall?
- Was the car damaged?
- Were you okay?
- Did you get in trouble?
- What happened to the car?
- Is the hole in the wall still there?
- What did the dent look like?
- Did your dad get hurt?
However, my favorite question was this:
Do you think, sometime, your dad could come visit our class?
And the class echoed, "Yeaaaaaaahh!!"
So dad, they are dying to meet the man who survived teaching his only daughter to drive!
And P.S.- they'd love to hear more stories if ya got em!
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