BLC10
Welcome to the participants of the November Learning BLC10 event. In this space you will practice working as a student -- you'll post blogs, comment on each other's work, perhaps upload a few images and create podcasts. Have fun.
The Adolescent Within
- rj04bps's blog
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Hopeful
So, how is it that I luxuriate in this airconditioned center of learning, option after option of possibility presented to me, excited at the chance to examine ideas and plan new things when this fear ridden woman frantically looks for safety for her baby and herself? The unfairness is difficult to think about: Why do I get the chances I do when she is stuck, and how do I help?
The librairie
Somewhere in that endless librairie, there is a book waiting for me. I know it is there, it was specificaly writing for me. It is about everything I love to fing in a book. It is well writen. The environnement is so well described that I could almost smell the odor in the story. It a very long story happening on many, many years, with many diffents caracters.
Cellisima
Gaston doesn't play the cello. He tried once, but the sounds were so strained, so painful, that he felt he was violating the instrument, forcing his brutish caresses on an unwilling creature. But he loves the cello, or better yet, he loves the idea of the cello. At work, his daydreaming moments are filled with mildly erotic images of his cello. Slowly unbuttoning the cloth cover, shivering at the first sighting of the creamy, dark wood. Slipping the heavy, rough cloth over the shoulders of the instrument.
Uncle Sam
The man could make a mean gin and tonic. Indeed, he was the only one in a family of light drinkers (perhaps a glass of wine with dinner) who could make a mean anything. But nothing tasted better after a day at the beach with the entire family than one of Uncle Sam's libations. We would sit on the beach house porch, letting the lime and the fizz cool us and talking. He was an inquisitor--but a gentle one. He was a debater--but a respectful one. He was a joke teller--but not a very good one. Thirty years of beaches and gin and tonics.
There will be a beach this summer, but there won't be a gin and tonic with Uncle Sam.
Writing Prompt Blc 2010
Telephone booths are a thing of the past. This hotel still has them on the Mezzanine but there are no guts in the booth.
The Great Fire - 1913
The sun blazed each day in June. Heat and humidity hung with such permanence that no one could believe that the ocean lay only a quarter of a mile away. But on June 21st the breeze finally picked up and caught an ember at Blubber Hollow near the North River. The ember flew, up and over Federal and Chestnut Streets before landing, explosively on the corner of Lafayette and Front Streets. Up Lafayette, over Pope, along Congress the flames consumed homes, businesses, and factories.
Salem would never be quite the same. The tanneries would leave the factories rebuilt.
BLC10 Participants
Thanks to all of you who participated in YWP presentations and workshops at November Learning BLC10 Conference in mid-July. Please get in touch with us (ggevalt@youngwritersproject.org or 802-324-9537) if you wish to talk about doing a pilot.
AND, we encourage you to use this site in the weeks and months ahead. We are rebuilding this and it will begin to have quite a collection of lesson plans and teacher blogs.
If you've forgotten your password, click the link for a new one, or give me a call.
Geoffrey Gevalt
- ggevalt's blog
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float
follow her despair
through the dirt-wrought ribbons
of home
say goodbye to the fields,
dizzying green of tomorrow
splinters;
echo
a chiseled childhood that
went up
in flames .
![8_bookstore[1]](http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4095/4787566145_9196ea52ca.jpg "8_bookstore[1]")
The Relocationist
The Relocationist
It was hard, at first, to know what to do.
What would you do? Fight crime? Develop a secret identity? It did cross his mind.
This ability, this way of moving, this way to go, it simply did not fit with anyway to connect with someone. Who else could know this? Who could relate?
He shared it with no one, of course. That whole secret identity thing stuck with him. Why is that imbued in the collective unconscious?
The Cello
In class, I was always the quiet kid. Both my teachers and classmates either hardly knew me because I didn't exist. My presence was only spoken to others by the obnoxious sounds I would make as my losinge interacted noisily with my saliva. Truth be told, my relationship with the losinge did not exist because I had lost my voice, but instead because I had no voice.
Now, I have found my voice; and, as the rain drizzles down upon me, I have found another way to preserve it. Under this umbrella is joy, friendship, and love. Outside of the umbrella is the losinge-sucking kid with no voice.
A True Musician
This must be a true musician because he clearly cares more about his instrument's well-being than his own. I would feel this way about my kids, but not about my piano. That's how I know I am not a true musician. I can appreciate music, but I value it differently than someone who's passion and life work is music.
Question about digitalteachers.net
I see the uses of digitalteachers.net and I would to take advantage of it in my classroom. My concern is that as a 5th grade teacher, many parents and principals do not want children signing up for an individual email account. Can students be logged on in bunches by the teacher? Does each student need a seperate email account in order to use this site?
