ICE Writers Camp Blog

Random words, random times

Random items, random rhymes

Pails of water, bags of dirt

Cookie jars and a brand new shirt

Twelve o’clock and one pm

Eleven thirty, a flower stem

Pens and papers, books and words

Rain and sunshine, flying birds

Seven thirty, show and tell

School is out, ring the bell

Think of thoughts, speak of phrases

Look up meanings, flip through pages

Keys and locks and leaves that fall

Wood and bark and a soccer ball

Dogs and cats and things with fur

Cooking pots, things to stir

Life and love and things unspoken

Things put together that were broken

Alone and yet surrounded by others

Things you stole from your brothers

Random items, random times

Things of yours, things of mine

It was an autumn day, and the brisk wind brushed my cheek gently as I struggled to crane my neck over the huge pile of books in my arms to see my schedule. First period was math, then English, then science, and calculus. Ugh. The same tiring schedule every single day. I decided to hit the cafeteria early, to swim around in my imaginary file cabinet in my mind to search my thoughts, sort through them and make them neat, organized, crinkle-free. The same weirdo lunch person sat behind the glass window. When it was my turn, the first white- haired old lady picked up a ladle and dug it into a pot full of icy slop. She slapped some slop onto my tray and pushed me to the next old hag. This one was tall and thin and not nearly as old as Ms. Kerrly, but she was much meaner. Her frizzy black hair was standing up through the holes of her too-tight hairnet. She smacked some peas beside the slop (and some peas actually got into the slop, making it make a weird sizzling noise,) and then she screamed at me to get a life and then called next right in my ear. I moved on to the nicest of the trio. Ms. Walkinheimer. She slipped a fruit cup onto my tray and I punched in my number. After Ms. Walkinheimer let me go, I slouched to the farthest table from the lunch ladies. My gaze fell on Susie Sonny who was wearing a bright mandarin shirt splashed with bursts of fuchsia and gold, while her pants were dull dandelion, and the stunning blasts of turquoise and lime brought out her sparkly, meaningful robin’s egg eyes, speckled with dots of gray and in her left eye, a splash of brown lit up her perfectly skin. She was nothing compared to me, just plain old Claire, in my T- shirt and jeans. And my average blue-gray eyes weren’t the same as Susie’s, because mine didn’t have speckles or splashes, just plain color. And my abnormally pale skin does not make my eyes pop like her peach skin does. And so, as I grieved for her perfect figure, auburn hair, and perfectly peach skin, I thought about how funny it would be if something should happen to Susie, make her humiliated. Like Jacob’s slop fell on her neon and turquoise splashed dandelion pants. That’s what you call entertainment! But I had to turn away from Susie surrounded by her posse for a minute. I needed to choke down at least some of my soggy peaches before the mean lunch lady, Ms. Juarez, slapped me across the face. Just as I stabbed my fork into a peach drowning in water, I heard a squeal from across the cafeteria. The squeaky voice sounded like it was coming from… Susie? My eyes scanned the room stupidly, as if I didn’t know Susie’s usual seat. Jacob was apologizing for somehow letting his slop slip. It was slapped across her dandelion pants. Now greenish brownish was splashed along with the turquoise and neon hot pink that graced the dandelion. I had just wished for that to happen, so what if…

To be continued…

Hey everyone!  I know that many of you are in the last days of camp, and our St. Mary’s campers are probably on exploring other life adventures.  Miss Janell and I are in Arizona and we are writing about 4 specific lessons from camp over the last two years.  Last year we did a lesson on Speculative fiction where we played the exquistite corpse drawing game and looked at art work from Salvador Dali and MC Escher, and we wrote pieces of science fiction and fantasy.  The other day from last year that we want your feedback on is our Pirate lesson where we did pirate insults and made pirate maps and used delicious to look at pirate websites on the Internet before we started writing our Historical Fiction pieces. 

This year Miss Janell and I created a lesson on baseball teams that may have once been forgotten in history if people have not preserved them.  Many of you deeply researched the different groups and were able to get to a very special place to write about what you uncovered.  The other lesson from this year is the lesson on superheroes.  I know I loved watching you draw your superhero selves, and thinking about how amazing it would be to star in your own comic book. 

We need your responses on these lessons, because we are writing an article (possibly a book) about all of you!  It is important that we include your feedback–what did you like about each of the lessons?  What did you wish we had done differently?  How did you emerge as a writer through those lessons?  Was there a point of change in your writing because of them?

The more specific you get the easier it will be for us to include your voice in our article for other teachers.

Here is an example of a good student feedback:

“The lesson on speculative fiction was really important for me as a writer.  I had a hard time finding my voice in some of the other lessons, but when I created the creature and the started the interview in my head, I got so many ideas that my piece just took off.”

OR

“Doing the Pirate insults really gave me ideas on how to write from the point of view of a pirate.  The dialog in my story was so much better because I was able to hear the way a pirate talks.”

WE ARE SOOOOOOO grateful!!  And, facilitators, if you have feedback, we would like to hear that as well.  We want to incorporate as many of you as possible in our article.  Also, if you have examples of writing, we would love to use exerpts from that as well.  Think of all the teachers and students that you will impact because of your hard work!

Blessings and Write On!

Miss Elisabeth

A Mask from Italy

            One day my best friend Aubrey came to my house, in the summer, and told me that she was going to go to Italy, in July. Then I, Margeaux, asked Aubrey

“how long are you going to be gone”.” only ten days”, Aubrey said. Then sissy said “have fun”. “I am not leaving until next week”,   Aubrey said. “Oh” said sissy. “yeah” I said. Well, the two Phipps girls had to go play tennis. So Aubrey left, too

2 HOURS LATER

When Monica and Margeaux got home from playing tennis there mom was in the kitchen, so Margeaux decided to tell her mom about Aubrey going to Italy. And her mom said “are you going to miss her?” “Of course I am, why would you ask a silly question like that?” I said. I wondered and wondered what would it be like to go with my best friend? And after we all ate dinner I went to bed dreaming of me in Italy with Aubrey. I loved that dream. Well enough with the fantasy I said after I got up. Aubrey came over and said “I am going to get you suvaneer from Venus, Italy. Ok I said happily. It is going to be a surprise Aubrey said. Well it was a week later, and Aubrey was in Italy. I even forgot she was gone. And then the day Aubrey was home she quickly invited me and my sister over to give us our present, and now you are going to know why I named my title a mask from It because she got me and my sister a mask from Italy. Mine is pink, it has a bunch of sparkles on it with a big pink jewel at the top and it has three big feather at the very top. It was beautiful.

THE

END.

Like vines of ivy scaling the house

Making a ladder to escape from

Like blades of grass freshly cut

And browning in the sun, left to die

Like stems of flowers bending

Looking for sunlight from the darkest shade

Like a leaf on a tree in the center of a forest

Dark, simple, shaded, elegantly falling, soundless

Like an apple, plucked straight from Granny’s Garden

Sour and ripe and shining brightly

Like the bitterness of a Sweet Tart

Left alone, because it is the least liked

Like jealousy ripping apart friendship at the seams

Bitter and sour, looking for vengeance

Like the sickness of disease poisoning the body

Slowly working its way through the system

Like the calmness found only on the beach

A subtle reminder that it can be found anywhere

Cliff diving. Not only is it dangerous, but it makes a horrible field trip. Read this story to see why:
We edged our way along the very narrow ledge, our backs to the wall. It was very uncomfortable, the sharp rocks stabbing our backs as we walked. We really didn’t want to do it this way, but it was the only way. We finally reached the end of the ledge, and we climbed up 3 stone steps, coated with dirt. Then we had to edge again, Gabby wincing in pain as a knife-like stone dug into her spine. She stared with loathing at our teacher, Mr. Peekward, for bringing us on this excursion. Drizzling rain pressed our T-shirts to our skin, and Mr. Peekward said we were at the top and not to worry. Gabby and I stared down with horror at the 50-foot drop. Trouble maker Haley Hanson threw herself over the cliff before Mr. Peekward gave the symbol. Believe it or not, he started cursing under his breath. In front of us. “Looks like Mr. Freakward is gonna get fi-red!” Gabby smacked me a high five. Then Freakward gave the symbol and Gabby, Gabby, hurled herself into the air. “Bye Clai-“ She cut off. I raced to the edge, and Gabby was in the water, giving me a thumbs-up. Then she summoned me to her. Mr. Peekward gave the symbol and I sprinted off the cliff. I did a triple flip and landed in a cannonball. A fifty-foot drop gives you a lot of time, even at 70 m.p.h. I ended up liking that field trip, and will never forget it. <3

I trembled, for this was the most dangerous thing our counselors made us do. My legs started to ache as I thought about how far I would be jumping. I clutched the dangly rope ladder tighter as I peeked around the narrow rock and looked how far we’ve come. I settled on an approximate 20 feet, and I remembered that the plunge was an approximate 20 feet!! Ohhh, boy. The distant butterflies in my stomach turned to a tsunami rolling around with no shore to crash on. The tsunami melted to pure excitement as I finally approached the top of the rock. There’s no way to explain this rock, it was not rough, but smooth, and not milk chocolate brown, but smooth silver. It was also very narrow, a little too narrow for my personal liking. My eager fingers tremored with excitement as I clutched the last rotting rung on the rope ladder. I noted that the rock on top had a little more texture to it, and was cooler than the smooth surface of the silver rock. It was thinner,, but reached a farther length than most of these Floridian cliffs do. I realized it resembled a diving board, silver and blue, and the silver rock was like the metal surface of the diving board’s ladder. Two more people and it was my turn. I watched as they ran up and hurled themselves off the rock, their echoing screams fading, fading, and then gone as you hear the slap of their bodies on the freezing water. Missy flipped over, yelling her approvals as she hit the water. I was next. I tried to make my thoughts heard over the sound of my heart pounding. “It’ll be okay,” I tried to convince myself. It didn’t work in the slightest. No matter how much I didn’t want to, I absentmindedly backed up and sprinted across the rock. I threw myself off the rock, my swimming T-shirt flapping up against the skin of my back as the rush of the wind became too much. When I finally found the courage to open my eyes, I realized the water was only 7 feet away. I closed my eyes and positioned myself so that my stomach wouldn’t break open as I hit the water. I landed my cannonball clean, and as I paddled my way to the surface, I felt a stab of happiness slice my side. I had just taken a life threatening risk, plunging down at 70 miles per hour. I swim to the side, pushing myself out. I shake out my hair, and out of my daydream. I skip silently to the diving board, ready to take another risk.

Hope you liked it! Please comment,
Lilaclaire

I strut up the lunch line. I daydream about chocolate pudding, cheeseburgers, and goldfish. Chocolate pudding, the creamy liquid’s taste is improved with a splash of whipped cream. Cheeseburgers, the warm melted cheese warming my mouth. And goldfish, the crunch of the crackers surprisingly soothing as I giggle with my friends. But when I get to the front of the line, I am surprised to see huge metal pots filled with either mushy brown stuff or steaming vegetables. The icky lunch lady yanked a huge ladle from a holder and smacked on another pair of gloves. She scooped a huge helping of mush onto my plate and then handed me a pack of carrots and an orange. I moved on and punched in my lunch number. Fr each of the seven digits a green light popped up. I hit enter and then the other lunch lady said, “You go.” I slunk away, but then I heard the lady say, “Way, way, come back!! You forgot something!!!” I spun on my heels eagerly, hoping I’d forgot a pudding cup or a goldfish packet. “Yes?!?!” I was so excited I could barely get the word out. “You forgot your whole bowl of steamed veggies!!!” She slipped a carton of onions, Brussels sprouts, red peppers, artichoke, and more into my hands. Then she pushed me out of the way. I watched with despair as the kids all over my school gagged on their health food. I glanced down at my own mush, and could have sworn I saw it move!!!! Then I saw the thing that surprised me the most: Gertrude Garlly was munching happily on her spinach leaves!!!!! I scrambled over to her. She hated veggies!! “Gertrude, why are you eating that?”
“What? This? It’s actually pretty good.”
“I’ll have to try it.” I picked up my spoon and scooped a huge bite of brown mush into it. I closed my eyes, dreading the bite, and….
“PLUGH!!!!!!!!!!! How do you like this?” I started wiping away the bits of mush that stuck to the tables. I spit out the rest of the mush into my napkin and threw it away. “I never said the mush was good,” Gertrude said with a grin.

Moral of the story: Always bring lunch from home!!!

Rose lived with her mother in a cottage in the woods. She was plainly the beauty of the forest; her kindness and gentle nature charmed everyone around her. She sipped her tea from the oak table when her mother gestured to her from where she was reading silently. She went to sit by the fireplace, on the rug. She stroked the match across the rough strip of paper as the flame clung to it. She balanced the match carefully as she pressed the fire to the rotting wood from the spruce tree outside the house. She watched with amazement and concentration as the flames licked up the logs. The flames tried to leap out of the fireplace and failed as they noticed Rose wasn’t afraid. “Rosie, Rosie, listen to me, for I have a riddle, a puzzle for thee.” A face started to form in the scarlet fire. “And what shall I ask is this puzzle you have in store for me?”
“Oh, Rose. You always were the one to accept even the hardest of challenges.” Rose blushed and pushed back her honey bronze hair. “Harold, just tell me the riddle.”
“Okay. Here is the riddle: Imagine you are in a cement block, just big enough to hold you. There are no windows and no doors, and you are extremely weak. You are in the middle of the ocean, and you’re underwater. Water is starting to leak through, and bull sharks surround you. How do you escape alive?” Rose thought for a minute. Then came her answer: You simply stop imagining that you’re in the block. You imagine that you’re home, safe and sound.” Rose’s mother ignored Harold. She didn’t trust him after he’d accidentally leaped out too far and burned Rose’s wrist. There was still a fire-shaped mark on some of her veins.

It’s not finished, but please comment on it. Thank you,

Lilaclaire ☺ :-O