I haven't written about my Creative Writing class on here so far, so I figure it is time to do so! In addition to being able to silent read weekly I also get to teach a super laid back creative writing class twice a week. I've started letting the students pick the topic and today they chose to write a detailed description of something in this classroom. Here is a sample of what they wrote:
Blank. White. Full of opportunity. Somehow it commands the room, the focus of most lessons, the holder of the agenda (though not very often thought of on it's own.) Doodles, bullet points, sentences, everything mars its surface everyday. Orange, purple, green, black markers slash and dot away. They fill every inch with knowledge and fun. When it's through though, when all information has been shared, a simple swipe of the finger can be rid of it. A tissue can be enough to leave the cold smooth surface gleaming and blank. Not a trace of the former marks remain.
The lighting in the room was dim. Three bookshelves across the room on the wall, four posters hung above them. The lighting in the room hit the posters perfectly to make them look magical and alive. It looked as if you could walk right into the posters and be one with the characters and act along with them. It was the perfect place to go and lose yourself in a book, the only place to be alone and escape from the outside world.
Streaming through the windows, grey light blocks half of each scene on the glossy surf posters. The bright new spring sunshine seems to fill the room like an air of completion, a well needed dose of sunshine after our cold winter. Softly "ratatat" plays through the computer speakers. Melanie looks up and smiles, warming the room to summer-level.
The floor was worn and smashed up from the hundreds of feet that have walked and many chairs that have scratched and demolished when scooted away from the desk It is dark brown in some spots, light in others. Also here are many small indents and vertical lines where you can see the individual boards.
The floorboards are splintered; the varnish is rubbing off. Reminds me of my childhood house. I always got splinters in my toes from sliding in my socks. Always felt like sharp gravel on my bare feet and would turn to ice during winter and a hot plate in the summer.