I’m pleased to be partnering with the Attic in SE Portland to offer three exciting literary enrichment opportunities for middle, junior and senior-high students. Please feel free to share with any colleagues, family or friends who may be interested.

• SPRING BREAK WRITING CAMP – a week of writing and creative expression.

  From March 22- 26, coinciding with Portland Public’s spring break, Writing Camp offers multiple opportunities for middle school and junior high students to express themselves. During morning sessions, students will work with guest poets, including Sage Cohen, Pam Steele and Peter Sears. In the afternoon, writers will explore various fundamentals of creative and expository writing, including narrative structure, character development, dialogue, setting, and place, as they launch new pieces of writing and work on existing ones.

• FUNDAMENTALS OF FICTION, FANTASY & PERSONAL JOURNAL

  Saturdays from April 10th – May 15th, junior and senior high writers will work toward moving their ideas and stories beyond their first lines, first paragraphs and first pages toward completion. In so doing, they’ll focus on the fundamentals of good storytelling, including narrative arch, characters, plot development and more, with the goal of finishing their stories.

• WEAVING EXPERIENCES INTO WRITING

  Also on Saturdays from April 10th – May 15th, junior and senior high writers will uncover the steps it takes to turn their personal experiences into stories, poetry, essays, fiction and more. This workshop will be especially helpful for students preparing for college entrance essays, who want to write a book, and who are interested in exploring personal narratives.

LEARN MORE AND REGISTER at the Attic’s classes page, or email me at info(at)davejarecki(dot)com.

ABOUT THE ATTIC

Founded in 1999, the Attic Writers’ Workshop is widely regarded as a literary gem–a place that encourages & develops your talent, helps you focus on your writing, & invites you into the camaraderie & community of other writers. In addition to individualized consultations for writers at all levels, the heart of the Attic is the workshop: small, supportive, innovative, & intensive. Students receive generous attention, geared to their present & future writing.



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As part of my ongoing adventures as a writing workshop instructor, the following piece owes a lot to this year’s third-grade class.

Some eight-year-old boys drool. In the four years in which I’ve worked with third graders, at least one boy has drooled in the middle of at least one class. Sometimes it’s from frustration, but mostly it’s a result of over-excitement coupled with a blood sugar spike.

This year’s drooler is Ben. He’s now drooled three times in two sessions, which means he has six more sessions to break the all-time drool-per-session record of seven. Ben’s in-class snack of choice is a juice box. His teeth are coming in at jagged angles, leaving plenty of gaps through which saliva can escape. And writing excites the hell out of him.

I say the record is his.

Read the rest @ ReadWritePoem.org

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The following entry comes courtesy of Alice, a fifth-grade student in SE Portland. I’ve been working with Alice for two years – she’s a heck of a writer and has a great mind.

Below I’ve pasted the original skeletons, followed by Alice’s replies.

It’s ________ __________ “___________ ___________” and it’s ___________ __________ __________ “___________”. This is, __________ it’s _________ ___________ the __________! The _________ ___________ _________ the _________ __________ for __________, which _______, “_______ __________.” This is __________ _________ it is to _____________.

Alice writes:

It’s tomorrow buddy “seven days” and it’s today dear that’s “here”. This is, look it’s Safe Chap the hero! The weird dork from the planet Zuok for $4, which says “Yo dude”. This is how fun it is to dream.

When ______ _________ at ______ _________ of ________ ___________ in the ________ _________. ____________ ___________. I _________, “what are __________ ___________ ___________ ___________ ___________?” I _________ I’ll __________ a ____________ of _________ ____________. Then I __________ ___________ _____________ to ____________ ___________, I ___________ in ____________.

Alice writes:

When I cry at night love of life springs in the dark well. I’m desperate. I scream “what are you on these bleak lands?” I swear I’ll cry a river of salty tears. Then I sink down slowly to my knees, I struggle in vain.

Evan Billups is a fifth-grader who’s been in the after-school writing program for two years. She wrote Moms Without Their Daily Coffee during winter break. I made very small grammatical edits to Evan’s original piece.

When moms don’t get their nice cup of coffee in the morning, it gets nasty. First they notice when they’re driving you to school.

“Oh no! I couldn’t get my coffee pot to work so I didn’t get my coffee!” Mom says.

“Oh, mom! Please get it later!” you say.

“No, no, and no! I have a terrible headache and I left my aspirins at home,” Mom says. She pulls off Woodstock Street and quickly drives to the nearest Starbucks. “Stay in here. This will take five minutes.”

“Yeah right,” you mutter.

She’s in there staring at the menu board. You can actually hear her asking, “Pike Place or French Roast?” After ten minutes, you get up and go in.

“It’s 8:10, Mom! I’m going to be late if you don’t hurry up.”

“Oh, well, I’ll get Pike Place then,” Mom says. “But please take your time, I don’t want it rushed or it will taste too light. I want extra bold coffee.”

So then the coffee-maker person takes lots of time and does five extra stirs. By then you give up about not being late. It’s 8:20 and Mom is searching for a five dollar bill. She finally finds it and then slowly walks out the door.

By the time you get to school, it’s 8:30. You walk in and explain to Carla at the front desk, “I was late because my mom wanted a perfect coffee.” She is about to write a running late slip, but then puts her pen down.

“Seems like a suitable excuse. Go to class now,” she says.

You walk down the hall congratulating yourself on not being counted late. You walk into Mrs. Yochim’s and Miss B’s. They start to say, “Where’s your late slip?” but you quickly say, “My mom wanted a perfect coffee.” Mrs. Yochim and Miss B. shrug and say, “Sounds like a suitable excuse. Now start reading the Reading Street books.”

I guess coffee is really important in grown ups’ lives.

A new round of workshops started yesterday. The kids came ready. I gave them each a notebook prior to winter break; Chineyere filled hers up in a month. Everyone else at least filled their pages half-way.

Noah presented me with a poem when he walked in, which he later read to the class:

Poem by Noah

Time like water rushes ever onward,
never stopping, always moving, rushing
onward
following the many paths of people,
irrigating the fields of history
onward shall time flow, forward past the
bond of the universe
onward time, onward!

Meanwhile, Alice ripped off two great quotes, both of which I wrote down and now can’t find them. Sorry Alice – I told her I’d add them to the Blog this morning. They’re around here somewhere, buried among the papers and thoughts.

This week’s assignment for the Monday class: write a short, personal essay that is “true to the truth of the story” without worrying about the “truth of the truth”; then write the same story as a haiku.

The following examples come from a creative exercise using oracle cards. Students draw four cards (face down), flip them over, and then write a four-sentence story (one sentence per card). Students work on getting the most out of their words, while the stories often serve as seeds for larger tales. Both pieces are published with permission from the writers, 5th grade students at Woodstock Elementary

Serpent of conflict
by Justin Chen

There once was a serpent who cast a spell on a man named Conflict.
Conflict transformed into a bear.
One night, the Seeker of Water turned Conflict into a wolf.
Now Conflict struggles with each full moon.

Choice
by Chinyere Ike

The choice was made.
The Sacred Flame killed the Circle of Life, instantly overcoming the God of Fire.
This cast the Flame as the new ruler.
He overcame the universe, and everyone lived unhappily forever.

The following two selections are short pieces by Noah Christen and Aaron Chan fifth-grade students at Woodstock Elementary in SE Portland. Both are examples of starter pieces that came from a free-write, the prompt being “The Universe of….”. Both pieces are published here with each writer’s permission.

Universe of Computers
by Noah Christen

Here comes an electric twister along the ground. I have always wanted to go out and give my show to the world. The electric twister could give me the power to force my way onto the screen. But it’s impossible. I’m a virus lost in the great open space of microchips.

I calmly step aside to let it pass. Looking down, I see a bustling metropolis under the see-through ground. I wish I was there. But no, this is my life – condemned to forever wander the plains.

Yet I feel my ways have changed now. I’d like to protect the weak, save new viruses from the older, wiser and stronger ones in this dog-eat-dog world. Actually, I’m not really sure what a dog is, but I know what a horse is because I ride one. I also know what guns and whiskey are because I drink them and shoot them.

I guess you could call this a tech-western.

Universe of Mayans
by Aaron Chan

My legs are hull ribs.
My body is hard as steel.
But my bladder is as red as blood.

I’m sweating like a pig without mud.
I run, I jump, I act warlike
but I still don’t get it.

It was the metal sword
I’ve always wanted. I get
why they didn’t give it to me.

I was exiled,
became a rebel. No choice
of winning the war.

Hush…someone’s coming.
Fast and quick, I run
until I see them.

Rebels like me, exiled
from the world. I join them,
follow to the Mayans

to show them the ways of war.
We attack one-by-one,
struck down.

We didn’t know the power
they had by now.

Every week I’m going to post a couple of selections from some of my writing students as part of an ongoing “Young Writers Series”. Keep an your eyes and mind open as you peer into their imaginations and stories.