Verbose

Very rarely can I talk a lot—one on one I feel like I'm a decent conversationalist but if you throw even one more person into the mix I clam up. Writing though has always been a comforting outlet for me. Perhaps that's because no matter who my intended audience is, whether it be one person or tens of people, the actually writing is always one on one. Me and my keyboard (and in the past, me and my pen/cil).

Andrew's also a writer, and not a pithy one, either. Our biggest task each semester, it seems, is carving his papers down to fit within the word count or page number limits of any given assignment. Okay, so perhaps that's not his biggest job but it probably is one of my biggest jobs (at least as far as his PhD program goes...you know, aside from raising children all day).

Rachel has a journal that she writes in fairly regularly during the week. She hands it in on Friday and her teacher reads it and comments in it. I had a similar assignment all throughout elementary school and my entries were always relatively lengthy. They started out short, of course, when I was just learning how to put my thoughts onto paper but as soon as I figured out how to get the words out of my brain they just kept on coming. Last night, Rachel made a breakthrough. She started writing and filled up an entire page and a half in her journal, which is rather impressive for a five-and-a-half year old.

My favourite part, I think, is slogging through her creative sound-it-out spellings.


Here are her entries for the past two days:

January 25,th 2013
toDay we had No speshshs Because we had a crassey sceJDll.

January 28th, 2013 [she wrote 25th because her previous entry was the 24th but it really was the 28th]
Today we had no specials because we had a crazy schedule.

[That is true; we had a delayed-start school day because of an ice storm that didn't happen (in fact it turned out to be a slightly damp but warm morning—balmy even) so the schools were on a condensed schedule.]

January 29,th 2013
Benjumen kwos haw to situp. I am icsitid for him to stanbup. 
at lunch I ate yogrte and french fries and pers and wite milk. I like pers. Do you? I youst to not like french fries but I like them nawo.
Ms. Reevs, wut did you do wen you wr gon?
At scool we lrnd abawot sezzins and my favurrit sezzin is wintr because i get to isscate.
At scool i rit abawot swiming with mom.
I cept my tow green egls today ms. Reevs.
Ms. smoc haew a funny acsint that I like.
I was at shac and spil ms reeves. 
We wnt to socr for reses I kikt the socrball rit eundr the glleys lags. 
I had fun today.
I have a buingkbed. od You?
I sleps on the top. My sisst seps on the botim.
Did you tech preyscool ms. Reevs?

January 29th, 2013
Benjamin knows how to sit up. I am excited for him to stand up.
At lunch I ate yogurt and French fries and pears and white milk. I like pears. Do you? I used to not like French fries but I like them now. [That's true; what kid doesn't like French fries?!]
Ms. Reeves, what did you do when you were gone? [She had a substitute teacher today, which we'll learn later on.]
At school we learned about seasons and my favourite season is winter because I get to ice skate.
At school I wrote [but I think she was sounding out "writ," an alternative past-tense form of write...for a 5-year-old] about swimming with Mom [although we haven't gone swimming since September].
I kept my two green eagles today, Ms. Reeves [a reward system at her school].
Ms. Smoke has a funny accent that I like [Ms. Smoke was the substitute].
I was at shake-and-spell, Ms. Reeves [I'm assuming this is a learning center in their classroom].
We went to soccer for recess [they have a recess coach who helps them organize games and things to prevent bullying/injuries—I guess it's a statewide program or something...I'm not sure how I feel about it]. I kicked the soccer ball right under the goalie's legs [that's my girl! ...only it's not because I've never been known to kick a soccer ball under the goalie's legs...but, go Rachel!].
I had fun today.
I have a bunkbed. Do you?
I sleep on the top. My sister sleeps on the bottom.
Did you teach preschool, Ms. Reeves?

It's fun to get a little look inside her head every now and then. She seems calmer now that she can read and write better—happy to have another way to express herself that isn't talking. Talking about things gets old sometimes.