Here's first period (the prompt they gave me was "turtle"):
They dropped me out of one
container into another. My eyes searched
for an escape. Must be an escape, must
be an escape. My wings hummed as I sped
off in one direction. I slammed into an
invisible wall. Ouch. I shot off in another direction. I smacked into another invisible wall. What the?
I did it again, and again.
Invisible walls all around me! And a lid on top! They can’t do this to me! I need to be free! To fly across the wide world. I only have 24 hours to live!
I
land on a little leaf to rest, and rub my front arms together. At least there were a lot of plants in
here. But why would the humans put me in
a cage? They don’t find us very
interesting…in fact, usually they try to swat us with large plastic death
machines. I couldn’t trust the humans.
Still, it was nice to rest for a moment.
Just
then, I felt a presence behind me.
Whatever it was, it was a slow mover.
But it was big. Not as big as a human, but still a threat. A shadow fell over me. I needed to move. I zipped out of the way, just as two jaws
clamped shut where I had been not a second before. Buzzing around the air, I looked down at my
enemy.
He
was large, green, and was covered in some sort of protective armor. His head moved in and out of the armor, and
his eyes watched me, greedily. I
remembered as a maggot being told about these creatures. Tur-tles, there were called. Well, surely I could outsmart a turtle. From what I remembered of the stories, they
were stupid creatures and could not match our speed and cunning.
I
began to dart to and fro, across the cage, trying to make it dizzy. It didn’t move. I laughed to myself. “What a stupid animal!” I began to fly closer and closer to it,
taunting it. It couldn’t catch me in a
million years! I came in for my lowest
swoop yet. But this time the turtle did
move, and it…
“Hey
Mom, you were right,” little Timmy said,
“the turtle did catch the fly.”
“Yum.”
Thought the turtle.
Here's second period (they wanted me to write about them):
They
were savages, coming into my classroom like a hurricane. Their faces were covered in colors of what I
hoped was chalk, laughing like hyenas. I
was afraid. One by one, they burst in.
First came Carsen, the destroyer. Tate, the troublemaker soon followed. I began to feel outnumbered as Cayden, the
demolisher and Alex the inquirer thundered in.
Braxton entered, brimming with energy, with mischievous Vincent not far
behind. Taylor and the Bailiees entered with beaming smiles. They are so sweet, but so good at distracting
me from my lessons. Macoll is there to
keep things in balance, but she is outweighed by Carter’s devious plans to keep
me off topic.
Soon
everyone is in the room and I remember that although I am afraid, I do love
these students, even with their tenancies to distract me. Chandler patiently
waits for my instructions while Marissa smiles quietly. I notice Shaniqua has hurt herself
somehow…I’m always sad when my students are injured. The ever curious Shawn asks me about my
awesome red jacket (which is epically awesome…I bought it in China….long
story), and I struggle to get the class to focus. Poor Parker’s face is coated in red chalk,
making it look as though he got a gnarly sunburn. Makaylee has green in her hair. What a colorful class I have! Bianca, who recently told me she’s a Peruvian
(which makes her my favorite Peruvian), sits quietly by Lauren…who is obsessed
with Costa Vida.
“Pull
yourself together Emily!” I tell
myself. Get these students on task! Sydney, who I sometimes call Squidney, sits
attentively, although I can tell she’d love to be out playing some kind of
sport. Sara has already started to
write, she’s a super fun writer, while Josh and Chevin just want to get started
so it can be over with (which is how I used to do a lot of school work). Levi is probably planning on writing
something Zelda themed, and I can’t wait to see what Mason writes about because
I never know what he’s thinking. Sweet
Abby and Lilianna are ready to begin…they’re always prepared, which is nice for
a teacher.
I
finally get them quieted down and they begin writing. I gaze across the classroom at the trees
Aurora brought for The Tempest. Happily I realize…I have an awesome 2nd
period.
And last but not least, 7th period (they also wanted me to write about them, but only about 11 of them were in my class at the time):
The
end of the day. The students file in,
noisy, as usual. I sigh, in
exhaustion. It’s been a long day…a fun
day…but long. I’m ready to go home and
eat Chex Mix…or maybe some popcorn…possibly some graham crackers with frosting
on them. But I couldn’t afford to think
about that now. The students were
getting ready for the class activity, if I lost focus now, they would walk all
over me. They’d get me off the day’s
topic and have me talking about cheese…or something even worse. No…I had to put on my game face. I could handle one more class period.
I
just about had everything in order, when it happened: Mr. Jackman came in the room, asking for
students who needed to make up testing.
BLAST! Over half my students in 7th
period needed to make up their end of level testing. I stared, dejected, as most of my students
followed the assistant principal out of the room. I looked around the room and
counted those who remained. There were
eleven. Keegan: the troublesome one. Jaycie( with an “I” ‘E”): the gentle
one. Other Jaycee: the sassy one. Tyson:
the one who gave me a sucker. Mary: the enthusiastic one. Jessie: the athletic one. Bailey: the sweet one. Layla: the kind one. Jimmy: the mischievous
one. Brighton: the diligent one. Anika:
the bright one. The odds were in their
favor.
They
tried to convince me to play improv games, but I’m not sucker (even though I
was eating one). I set them to writing
their Journal assignment. This was
English class after all…we don’t fool around!
I put them in two rows, with pencils and paper in hand. Eyeing them with suspicion, I told them to
get to work. At first they gave in to
their impulses and talked with each other…but that was no way to run a writing
session. I dinged my bell of doom,
bringing down the silence. Portable 6
was my dominion, my realm, my dukedom.
No student would overthrow my reign!
Unless, you know, they asked nicely, or had a firearm.
I
told them that they could give me a prompt to write on. Since I was making them write, it was only
fair that they give me something to write.
They told me to write about them. So, I sat down at my computer, opened
a word document and began:
“The
end of the day. The students file in,
noisy, as usual. I sigh, in
exhaustion. It’s been a long day…”
