The privilege

My absolute favorite subject to teach is writing. I'm not exactly sure when the shift happened for me because somewhere back in my files I can remember being a little intimidated by the whole "and this is how we write a personal narrative" thing. But now, I relish our writing time and feel cheated when we don't get to have the time (oh, days of formal assessments, routine learning, and general wonkiness when will you be over? Seriously, if I have to say, "Let's try lining up again,"...I'm not sure what will happen, but I know it can't be something good). Already, these new young friends of mine actually booed when I said that we were not going to have a writing time today because of the assembly and DRA's. It made my heart a little happier (that and the Starbucks Grande Skinny Vanilla Latte).

So, if that did it for me, you can imagine my overall ecstaticness when Ms. Next Grade Level Up stopped me in the hall, pointed to her line (which has an inordinate number of my former students) and asked, "What did you do with these kids? We just took our writing assessment and they are like rockstars!" I looked at them and said, "I love to write and so did they. That's just how it was." I could see their little heads nodding in agreement. I was so excited about this revelation that I told more than one person, but it wasn't because I wanted to brag. I was just so proud of them. It is kind of the same way you tell people about the super things your own children do. It's not because there's some sort of contest for Best Mom Ever (if there was, I lost when I made the Cubscout go to preschool when he said he was not feeling well, and he threw up all over the chapel), it's because you want other people to share your joy for your child's accomplishment.

But, I digress. The way I see it, I don't have to teach writing (well, maybe I do...state assessments and standards, you know). I get to teach writing.