A few years ago, my homeschooling homey, Emily, turned me on to the creative writing program called Druidawn. From an article at the Druidawn site:
Druidawn is a lot of things. It's a series of anthologies written by and for children and teens. . . It's a role-playing game used by language arts and creative writing
teachers to motivate kids and get them excited about writing.
For a few weeks, Emily hosted my children and some others and walked them through the first lessons of Druidawn. My kids were immediately hooked. They were asked to imagine a character and choose physical and emotional traits for that character. Each child was also assigned writing tasks: they had to write a song for something, they had to write a poem to open a box, they had to describe what was in the box, etc. The creativity, the drawing, the peer interaction and discussion of ideas interested them even though they were only four and six at the time.
Emily has since moved, but my children still remember and love their Druidawn experience. If I were a better mother, or at the very least, a homeschooling mother, I would re-start Druidawn with them. And who knows? The summer hasn't started yet. There's still time for me to get in gear.
Emily has continued Druidawn with her own children. The poems her kids wrote in order to open a box bowled me over. Seriously. They knocked my socks off. I have to share them with you or I will explode.
Whit's poem:
What am I?
I
am a river. I flow on and on. But when I find the perfect
rock, I linger behind it, forever.
I
am the sky. Lives pass away time and time again, but once I’m
created, I never die.
I
am a metaphor. I am abstract, but exquisite and poetic.
I
am air. Every man hungers greatly for me, but I never run out.
I
am paper. New inscriptions are made every day, but are seldom
erased.
I
am life. I am an optional feature of the universe, but a universe
without me is unbearably tragic.
Incredibly,
in my own special way, I am only one thing:
I
am love.
Coolio's poem:
I AM VOID. I AM UNAVOIDABLE WITH MY STAFF IN MY HAND.
I CAN DO ANYTHING.
I am water, I flow in a stream, you can not stop me.
I am sand, as you tread over me you make a physical imprint in me.
I am glass, I can be broken easily.
I am strong.
I am . . . really.
Whit is not yet a teen; Coolio is not yet in double digits.
Dude. Are those some awesome poems are what?
