Well, tomorrow, the girls will finish out nursery school for the year. Clara is finishing up there after three years in the official program but about two years as sibling mouthing sand toys and ersatz baby doll to the older girls in the play kitchen. Calliope is moving to the big kid class for next year. After the difficult decision to pull the boys from their school, it turns out that again I have the chance to help my kids into another brave endeavor. This summer I have been given a job as creative writing instructor at our school's arts camp. I hope to teach them how to write. In the third floor of the school house at their school, it will be their mama, her writing degree, my favorite writing books, and maybe a 8 other kids.
I think this is how Geoff must feel, vacillating between this craft you love and then trying to feed the family from it. Saying goodbye to the freedom of summer's wide open schedule and then accepting the responsibility of not only other people's children-- but the incredibly rare and precious commodity--- those children's creative spirit.
Not that I'll be directly responsible for these things. Mostly, I am so thrilled to be able to witness Manny and Benicio's writing take shape and come alive. We will take the guided tour of Mrs. Warholic's outlines, Mrs. Anderson's "main ideas," Mrs. Morgan's grammar, Mr. Shank's facility with synonyms, Julie Cameron's daily pages, Anne Lamott's bird by bird, Kenneth Koch's odes, Valencia Project's "Don't Forget to Write."
I simply cannot wait.
