Journal Day (again)

Two years ago I started a project here on Sometimes Sweet called Journal Day and it was probably my most favorite reoccurring feature, ever. Then the other week when I shared part one of "Post Ideas for the Stumped Blogger" I realized how much I miss that whole exchanging of ideas, sharing inspiration, and finding ways to freshen up content. I got to thinking, and I realized that right now was the perfect time to bring back Journal Day.

Here's the gist of it with a couple of updates, from my original post in June of 2011:

I love being a stay-at-home Mom, but there are some days when I really miss being a high school English teacher. And most of all, I miss the creative writing. For six years of my life, every Tuesday and Thursday, we had Journal Day. At the start of the year, each child would get a journal of their choice (typically a black composition notebook), and we'd add at least two pages per week. Upon the students' arrival in class on they would see a prompt on the board. They could always choose to free-write, but typically the kids would choose to at least start with the prompt and then let their writing go wherever they wished.  I had no rules for their journals- they could write about whatever they wanted, and although they did get a grade for completing each day's writing, I never gave them a grade on content. At the end of each journaling session, we'd go around the room and everyone could share anything they wanted- at the least just one word, and at the most, their entire entry. Some kids started by just offering up a word or a phrase- "good day" "sad" "really weird mood" - but as the year went on everyone got more and more comfortable. There were so many days I heard something that then prompted me to talk a child after class. Perhaps the one word they shared sounded a bit off, or maybe they shared a lot, and I knew they needed to talk to someone. I found that it was pretty therapeutic for a lot of the kids. I mean, I know some couldn't care less, but I do know there were more than a few that loved it. And I miss those days, I miss the writing, and the mix CDs the kids would bring it to play during those ten or fifteen minutes. The sound of the pencils on paper, the look of concentration. The feeling when one of my "non-writers" would say, "this isn't so hard after all."

So I got to thinking. And I decided that I'm going to bring back those journal days right here.

And if you'd like to join in, I'd absolutely love it.

Here's how it will work- I'll post a prompt on Sunday evenings (or other days if specified). Then some time in the next week, write about the prompt in your blog, then come back here on Thursday to my prompt response (I will post mine each Thursday morning) and leave a comment with a sentence or two from your entry, along with the link so we can all blog hop and check each others' writing out.  I know I'd be so honored to be able to read what you write, and I know a lot of others would love to, too. I think this will be a fun way to get a writing community going, and I'm so looking forward to getting to know more of you through your words. I'm so excited to continue focusing on what I believe is the most important aspect of blogging- writing.  I think this will be a neat way to infuse some creativity into our daily lives too, and inspire each other to write a lot more! So, here we go.

Stay tuned for next week's prompt, then come back on Thursday to my prompt response post to share your link blurb and link in the comments. And in the meantime, check out previous Journal Days here.

I'm Too Sexy...

It was my second year teaching high school English. I was 22, maybe 23. It was the start of a new school week in the Fall when I received the news that I had been nominated for "Hoopcoming Royalty" which is like normal Homecoming royalty, but for teachers rather than students and as a part of our "Hoopcoming" basketball game. Fun. Until I heard that we had to do a dance during the pep assembly that upcoming Friday. First of all, I am never one to shy away from dancing, or even being in front of a crowd dancing, but already being the youngest teacher on campus and then shaking my booty in front of my fellow teachers, students and hundreds of other teenagers? No way. Never. Not fun.

I tried to get out of it, I did. But the girls on student council let me know I couldn't let my partner down and being my sensitive self, I was overcome with guilt and promised to participate.

I got over my initial fears, and wrapped my head around the task at hand. I could do it! And no offense to my partner, a male teacher in the Social Studies department who shall not be named, but I got stuck with a dud, a too-cool-for-school kinda guy. Regardless though, we discussed our plan, and what would happen. We'd seen enough of the kids' Homecoming royalty pep assembly shenanigans to know the drill- a song we picked would come on, and the two of us would go to the middle of the gymnasium and dance for 20, 30 seconds max. I assured Mr. Cool that it wouldn't be so bad. We could pick an old, silly rap song and more lip sync than anything. We'd be okay.

But he refused.

So what was I to do? I certainly wasn't going to go do it on my own, so the gracious student council members said we could just be announced and walk out there at the end. Kind of lame, but better than doing it on my own.

The week went by stress-free. I didn't have to rehearse a silly dance, I didn't have to anticipate being embarrassed. It was pretty awesome!

Then Friday came. The assembly began and soon our part came up. We were last of 4 other pairings since we were just being announced. I still thought it was totally lame, but I went along with it. Couple #4 went...then we were up. Mr. Cool and I walked out to the center of the gym, ready to be announced, give a little wave, and walk off. But instead, something else happened.

I'll never forget it. We were about six steps to the middle, our feet echoing in that silent gym as I'm sure the students were anticipating what dance we would do. And instead of what I expected, a song came on the loudspeakers.


"I'm too" (wait? what?) "sexy for my love," (holy shit, no way is this happening...) "too sexy for my love," (Jesus H. Christ.) "love's going to leeeeeeeaaave" (yes, this is happening).

The beat began.

In that moment I wasn't sure what to do. My partner, the 6'4" basketball coach, notoriously stoic and straight-faced, continued to be stoic and straight-faced. And me, the 5'3" English teacher, notoriously goofy and pretty smiley, decided to channel my inner-Grandma dancing at a wedding, and dance around my stoic partner, who was still standing there in the middle of the gym, unmoving.

I'm not sure why I chose to do this, or what came over me. It was truly a slow-motion moment, a car accident, something I'm sure if you saw happening you wouldn't be able to look away from. In less than a second I became a dancing, shimmying fool. My subconscious had apparently choreographed a number to this song sometime in the 90s and there I was, in front of hundreds of teenagers and my colleaugues, performing it.

In the middle of my 30-second routine that felt like a lifetime, I remember seeing faces. Some surprised, some horrified, some astounded. But I kept dancing. And when the music ended, there was a slow clap. A slooooooow clap. And then cheers as we walked off, either excited about my awesome moves, or excited that it was over, who really knows...

You'd think one of my most embarrassing moments in a high school would have happened to me while I was in high school, but no. It was in my twenties. And in front of all the people I worked with, and all of the little people I had to have authority over, even after they saw me shaking it to "I'm Too Sexy," and even after I was already mistaken for a student every day of my existence. A few life lessons though: one, never assume someone will do what they say. There might always be someone in the group who thinks it's funny to throw some Right Said Fred in the mix. Two, speak up. I should have demanded a different partner so I could have done a fun rap routine, or on at least worn a banana costume like the PE teacher did. Way cooler. There are other lessons here too, like who cares what people think, get over yourself, etc. But most importantly, perhaps the lesson here is that I should channel my inner-Grandma at a wedding more often because guess what? I WON.

xoxo