Students Share What Writing Means to Them
Ramaz News
Our sixth grade English students read Brown Girl Dreaming, a memoir written in verse. The book charts the evolution of its author, Jacqueline Woodson, as a writer. Our students read the book and were asked to examine their own relationship to writing. Here are some of their responses:
Writing
By: Natalie S.
The letters connect,
making the word whole.
Making the word feel loved.
Making me love the word.
My pencil swifts and swirls,
on the paper.
Crack! My pencil broke.
My memory of what I was writing,
broke.
Let's start a new story.
One that is happy,
not sad.
One that is warm,
not cold.
I enjoy letters.
I enjoy words.
I enjoy writing.
Writing is my home.
---
Ungifted, Or So I Thought
By: Sandy S.
Ungifted.
Not good at sports.
Average at piano playing.
Pretty good at math.
Ok at singing.
Until writing.
Words come to my
brain,
and down to my
right hand,
like electricity.
The second the lightning bolt
reaches my fingers,
it explodes.
My fingers can't keep up
with the
everflowing stream of
words.
When I close my eyes,
I hear words.
I feel words.
My mouth will never do them
justice.
---
I AM A WRITER
By Ariana H.
I am a writer,
Young and smart.
I am a writer,
With all my heart.
I am a writer,
With a challenge of directions,
I am a writer,
With no expectations.
I am writer,
Whose work is short yet bright,
I am a writer,
But I didn't become one overnight.
---
Words
By Alexander M.
The words bounce off me
like a light switch to my brain
I flip the switch
turn the key
and write out my very own name
On paper, it's not permanent
and there's not a thing that you can't change
but words that you might say
their feelings may change
Words have an impact
one may say
they might hold you back
or save the day
the impact of them being said
may mess with your head
but on paper, there's always time for a thought or a change
So be wise with words
because they may result
In life or death
and youth and adult
—
Writing (a double acrostic)
By: Jack D.
When I am bored, I love to write, wow
run, my hand runs down the page in a blur.
it moves faster than a taxi,
trying to go at the speed of light.
I keep writing faster than the taxi,
never slowing. Like the rain,
goes down the page, at a light jog.
- MS News