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Is Your Frog Fuzzy? 10/21/2002 | 8:42 pm Is Your Frog Fuzzy? Today I was at a workshop, paid for by the district, to teach me how to teach writing. It was basically the same ol' stuff, re-chewed, and spit out with a fancy new label on it. In fact, I should have been embarrassed if I were this presenter. She went so far as to use some of the exact terms from several well known and copyrighted programs, but calling them her ideas. The reason I know is because I endured seven hours of grueling graduate credit torture, just last year, to becme expert in these very terms and methods. I was disappointed to have wasted the whole day listening to a self-praising, educated educator, praise herself for her stolen methods and secrets. There was, however, one good idea I came to glean. It is this: When children are in the editing portion of writing, have them find and acknowlege the things they have done correctly instead of the things they have done wrong. She showed us some ways of marking a draft so that children know when they have done things right. I thought that was just a dandy idea, and I'm going to start it tomorrow when I return to the nut tree. I only hope all my little squirrels survived the day with the substitute. It is usually rough going back after being away. I talked to my daughter tonight in Pennsylvania. She is expecting her third baby in December. I have been concerned that she isn't resting enough. I was, of course right!. She has a strange condition where her body is retaining too much fluid in the ambiotic sac. The baby is sort of floating around too freely. Now she must have an ulta-sound done weekly and be monitored much more closely. So far the baby is fine, a little boy. But, you know, I can't hep but have concern. I feel so far away from her. Always, before, I have been close at hand to help out with the new baby. Now, I'm at least 6 hours by plane, not including delays. I need to abide by my own advice and have faith that everything will be fine. I remember getting in the car, early one Saturday morning, four years ago, rushing to the hospital. She was in labor with her first little girl. On the way I was crying. Hubby asked "why?" I said, "I know the pain she will have to bear to bring this child into the world. I wish I could do it for her." The other grandma and I waited outside the delivery room and heard the first cries of our mutually "first granchild" together. We were both crying, A happy day. Now the story about the fuzzy frog. One of the little students, who wrote for our instructor told this tale in a pen-pal letter. Dear Louis, I had a frog. He got out of his bowl by my bruthr. He jumpd under the bed. We found him and he was all fuzzy not smooth. Don let this happen to you. Your fren, Eric catsnapples~ in first grade and at life
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