Children Write the Future

Sharing Our Present

admin — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 07:00:40 +0000

Learning to run an interactive website is an awful lot like learning to write.

If you wish for the world to see your best work, editing must be constant.

Children Write the Future was born with a singular purpose in mind – to help some of today’s children grow into the future’s finest leaders by equipping them with the essential tools of communication which will help to render eager learners into tomorrow’s torchbearers and trailblazers.

Cindy has been a teacher for over twenty years. Like most teachers fresh from the starting gate of senior year and ready for their first classroom, she was undaunted – ready and willing to do anything and everything she could to change a system that wasn’t doing enough to evolve on its own.

Cindy saw first hand that children were capable of anything they set their minds to. It made no difference that her kindergarten class in the Houston Unified School District was sandwiched between two housing projects. Cindy made certain every child could read before they left her classroom.

After she moved to California to help set a nationwide reading recovery program into place, she got an intimate look at the deficits facing much of this country’s schools. It shattered her heart and left her with fragmented beliefs. Eventually, she traded her office for the comfort of a classroom, where she knew without doubt that she could make a difference eye to eye and child to child.

Cindy taught fourth grade for another five years, until the blend of our son’s birth and too much on our plate prompted us to open a preschool. Our children would grow like weeds in a wet summer, we knew, and we weren’t willing to miss more than a second here or there.

Yet Cindy is a teacher down to the molecules which make up her pretty little face, and it was only a matter of time before she was seeking more students to teach.

Once I started Writer Dad, her wide eyes grew even wider as she imagined the potential of teaching to a classroom without walls or ceiling, governed not by geography or proximity, but by a desire to learn.

Children Write the Future was born.

Yet teaching online is not the same as teaching in a classroom. The wild hand gestures, constant eye contact and humorous asides which garnered Cindy multiple Teacher of the Year plaques, were missing from the online environment. These were the open blooms which gave her garden its scent and she missed them dearly.

Fortunately, my bride is not only a natural teacher, she is also highly adaptable. A born teacher can teach in any medium and Cindy has been deep in study, trying to determine the best angle to approach the numerous possibilities of this new online space.

While she continues to work in the background developing the content which will render Children Write the Future into the truly remarkable space it will one day be, we’ve decided to work on a single post each week in tandem.

I’m a writer and Cindy is a teacher. We have plenty to learn together.

The beauty of an online space lies in interaction and connectivity. Without your feedback, we would not know the next best place to take the site. But because of your wonderful comments, concerns and brilliant suggestions, we now know how to take this site to the next level, and look forward to doing so.

With a full online plate and a dozen sites to run between us, we don’t want to promise anything we can’t deliver. Cindy will be working behind the scenes to design the eventual Children Write the Future course curriculum. In the meantime, we will meet here once per week to share our mutual words with you.

Our children will write the future and tomorrow starts today.

Thanks for letting us share our present with you.

Sean

Writing Prompt #8

admin — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 05:13:32 +0000

Hi there! Here’s this week’s junior journal writing prompt! Happy writing!

Write about your favorite movie. Explain why you enjoy it and what makes it so much fun to watch. How do you feel when watching it? Does it leave you thinking or simply entertained?

Write on!

Cindy and Sean

Penny to a Million VIII

admin — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 07:00:53 +0000

September

One

I’ve never been the kind of kid to love school, though I’ve never been one to loathe it either. I remember loving Little Horizons, the preschool right next to my first elementary school. I can remember my teacher, Miss Melissa, although I don’t really remember what she looked like (except that she always had blue pants and her hair looked like sunshine). She was really nice and always told me how smart I was.

I also really loved Horizons, where I went for first and second grade. The teachers let me read from the older kids’ books and I was never bored. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t let me do the same thing at Franklin D. Roosevelt Elementary, so the last two years I had felt like my school days had gone from color to black and white.

Most days I left for school in the morning and came home in the afternoon, filling the time in between, sleepy or sneaky, sometimes entertained and, every once in a while, educated.

I never did the sort of sneaky stuff that would get me sent to the principal’s office; I was the kind of kid that got a stern, “Kelly!” from my teacher when I was caught reading a book that wasn’t on the class curriculum, folded inconspicuously (I thought) behind my textbook.

I got along well with pretty much everyone at school, but never really socialized with any of the kids outside the seven hours we spent together during the day. Despite my parents’ efforts to get me to try out for a team sport or take a weekend class, I found myself preferring a stack of books to a group of children.

Books were more exciting and took a lot less work.

I was more excited about fifth grade than I had been for any other year. I was going to be in the biggest group on the playground for the first time ever. The following year would take me to middle school, where I’d be among the youngest in a world where the oldest would look like grownups stuck in children’s clothing, at least according to my dad. I would probably end up moving from class to class and group to group and, if I was anything like my sister, mood to mood.

I remember the day Nicky started at Truman, the middle school on the other side of Roosevelt’s chain link fence. It was exactly one week before she suddenly changed into someone the other three of us barely recognized.

We dropped her off the day after Labor Day, a perfectly normal little girl. She had just turned thirteen, still loved to watch My Little Pony on Saturday mornings, and was a bit shy to start a new school even though all her friends were moving along with her. When our mom picked us up the following Friday, Nicky opened the car door, hopped in the backseat and started badgering our mom about when she could start wearing make-up and painting her fingernails.

Like Mom said, it was all down hill from there.

Now my parents regularly found Nicole sneaking make-up in her purse and phone calls with boys. They were constantly telling her to stay off the phone. Every trip to the mall for new clothes came with so many quarrels and compromises, I was always felt exhausted by the time we were through (and I wasn’t even involved!).

My sister was in her final year at Truman. Next year was high school and I could only imagine what that was going to be like.

That morning Nicky and I were both quiet on the way to school. Each of us was nervous with our own version of first day jitters. My mom pulled in front of the large Magnolia that separated the schools just as the first bell was starting to ring. She had the uncanny ability to get us to school, or wherever we were going, precisely five minutes before we absolutely had to be there. Several of my friends had secret clubs, but they only met in the morning, which left me ineligible for membership. I used to get invited to join all the time, but hadn’t had a single invitation since January.

“Wait!” my mom yelled as Nicole slammed the car door, already running toward the school’s front steps.

“What, Mom?” My sister couldn’t have looked more exasperated unless she was given a second take.

“I don’t care how old you are Nicole Irena McCannlis. I drove you to school. I want a hug, a kiss, and a, have a nice day.”

I don’t know if my mom noticed, but I could clearly see my sister trying to hide her smile. “Okay Mom,” she said. She hugged her, kissed her, wished her a wonderful day, then ran off toward a gaggle of girls laughing in front of the flag pole.

Once my sister was just a pink dot beneath the red, white, and blue of the flag, I hefted my backpack and hugged my mom through the open window. “I love you, Mom.” I said. “Have a great day.”

“You too Kelly, and good luck.”

“With what?” I turned my head back toward my mom, surprised.

“With whatever it is you have planned.” She winked, rolled up the window and drove away.

I stood on the curb smiling, unsure of exactly how I felt about my mom always knowing where I was going or when I had something up my sleeve. I was grateful for her devotion, but a bit disappointed with my own obvious lack of stealth.

The second bell shouted and I started to run, just fast enough to avoid falling flat on my face, straight for room eighteen.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Penny to a Million VII

admin — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 07:00:22 +0000

September

Four

I didn’t think I’d underestimated the other students’ affection for candy. Still, if you can believe it, I was completely sold out on my very first day. Word spread all the way down to Kindergarten. By lunchtime, I was swamped.

Of course I eventually wanted everyone to know about my business, I just didn’t want it to happen so fast. I needed to keep things under control. That’s why I knew the small spiral notebook would come in handy. I didn’t want to bring too much stuff to school, because I knew it would be a big mistake that would only get me in trouble.

I wanted to stock up on candy that I could sell immediately, but the main reason I wanted to go to the Friendly Dollar the first night of school was to scout the territory and find out exactly what they had so I would know what else I could offer.

In addition to my main menu, I drew a second o for special orders only. I planned to take requests all week long, then fill them when I went with my mom during our normal weekend trip to the dollar store. If things went well, I figured it could become routine. Hopefully, the daily business could add a steady stream of income to the top of my newly increased allowance.

The toy selection at the Friendly Dollar was the exactly the sort that would appeal to any kid with a couple of singles sitting in their pocket. They had small games, playing cards, action figures, play sets, jigsaw puzzles, balls; even a rather large selection of school supplies. As soon as my candy was all gone, I started handing order slips to anyone who asked.

I went home on my first day with fifteen custom orders.

It took no time for business to start booming. Word seemed to spread through school quicker than a rumor. My prices were fair and the children eager. My minimum mark-up was 100%. I tried not to buy anything unless I knew I could at least double my money.

My favorite things to buy were those things that seemed like a good deal because they came in multiples – like buying a pack of three bouncy balls, then selling them for seventy-five cents each. It was about more than doubling my money, it was also about getting three smiles instead of one.

My first month couldn’t have gone better. By the final week of September, my average was sixteen dollars a school day in profit, plus my allowance. On the final day of the month, I was holding $380 in my hand. That included what Grandpa had given me, but still, it was a sum that exceeded my expectations.

I saw it as a great beginning.

Miraculously, I managed to keep my small business under the radar for the entire first month of operation, staying invisible to the eyes of School Authority.

October, it turned out, would not be so lucky.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Writing Prompt #7

admin — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 07:00:16 +0000

Hi there! Here’s this week’s junior journal writing prompt! Happy writing!

Imagine you have a super power. What would it be and what would it allow you to do. Talk about your adventures. Would you use your powers for good or for personal gain?

Write on!

Cindy and Sean

Penny to a Million VI

admin — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 07:00:41 +0000

September

Three

About twenty minutes after five, my dad walked in my room and plopped at the edge of my bed. “Your mom tells me you’re going to the dollar store after dinner to get supplies for your new start up. Is that correct?”

My laugh was soft, a bit nervous. “Pretty much,” I said.

“Does this have anything to do with my father?”

“Only sort of.”

“Are you going to get carried away?” My dad looked half diverted, half delighted.

“No way, Jose,” I said. “I’ve got a pretty good idea about what I’m going to do…I’ve been planning.”

“Okay.” My dad stood, tousled my hair, looked at me for what felt like forever but was probably no more than a couple of seconds, then left me alone with my thoughts.

I gobbled through dinner, barely avoiding a reminder for my manners, then did the dishes and paced the front door while waiting for the jingle of my mom’s keys

I had no idea why she had to put on make-up just to go to the Friendly Dollar, but I was glad that patience came relatively easy for me. When it was finally time to leave, I charged from the house like a puppy off his leash, out the door and into the car.

In addition to the hundred dollars that Grandpa had given me, which I was determined not to spend, I had another twenty-seven bucks accumulated from various birthdays, allowances, and scrounging through my bedroom for gummy change. I dropped it all in my pockets and returned home a little more than an hour later with just under four bucks left.

With twenty-three dollars spent, I was locked and loaded.

Now that I knew what I was selling, I could finish Ms. Moore’s first homework assignment.

On one side of the tag, I drew my name, perfectly written and decorated. On the other side, if one were to lift the flap I’d expertly crafted, they would find a complete menu with all my various offerings.

If there’s one thing a kid treasures more than anything, it’s sugar, and I returned home from the dollar store with enough to give cavities to everyone on my block. I spent thirteen dollars on candy, which is quite a bit as long as you’re careful.

I bought three bags of chocolate coins, thirty coins to a bag. I planned on selling each coin for ten cents. I bought three packages of miniature chocolate bars, ten per pack. I would sell those for twenty-five cents each. I bought two trays of oatmeal frosted cookies – twenty-four count. They would go for twenty cents apiece.

But my best idea, I believed, were the three one-pound bags of hard candy, filled with individually wrapped pieces.

I dumped the hard candy onto my bedspread, mixed it all up, then repackaged them into three candy assortments inside the sandwich bags I’d bought for an additional dollar. I planned to sell each bag for twenty-five cents, because people love a good deal, even when it really isn’t one.

With the rest of the money, I bought supplies for lunch. Bread, meat, and all the fixings; a three pound bag of apples, crackers, and juice. I even bought my own pack of brown lunch bags.

The last thing I’d added to the cart was a small spiral notebook to keep track of the money I made and the new things I would need to buy.

I was so excited that night I barely slept.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Dear Santa…

admin — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 07:00:15 +0000

I love Christmas. Spending time with my family, giving gifts, and getting a present from Santa. I only ask Santa for one gift so that I am not greedy.

Here is a letter to Santa if I was going to ask for 5 things for Christmas.

1) A dog. I don’t mean a real dog because my mom is allergic to those. But Fur-Real dogs are pets that act real. When you say something, they do it!

2) A Fur-Real Panda. It’s just like the Fur-Real dog, but it is a panda. It comes with a baby bottle to drink from and when you hug it, it hugs you back.

3) An American Girl Doll. I really want Julie. She is pretty, and has some really good stories. She is friends with some of the other American Girls like Ivy, who is a girl with black hair and brown eyes.

4) A Fur-Real Sprocket. Yes, I have a lot of Fur-Reals on this list! Guess I really want one. Sprocket is a dog. She is black with white fur on her tummy and a small spot of brown on her eye. When you tug on Sprocket’s leash she pulls back just like a real dog! She also walks like a real dog so we could take her to the dog park by our house. (I think this is the one I want the most!)

5) A big, GIANT candy cane. I love peppermint. The taste, the smell and the colors all make me happy.

Merry Christmas!

Mia

Writing Prompt #6

admin — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 07:00:55 +0000

Hi there! Here’s this week’s junior journal writing prompt! Happy writing!

Describe how you feel when people tease you. Are you happy with your usual response or do you wish it was different? Explain.

Write on!

Cindy and Sean

Penny to a Million V

admin — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 07:00:05 +0000

September

Two

“Mallard, Ronald…”

“Here.”

“McCannlis, Kelly…” Ms. Moore’s voice was music.

“Here,” I said.

Ms. Moore was the one teacher that everybody at Rossevelt wanted to get, and there was a six year wait just for the chance. When it was finally your turn, your odds were only one in four.

I was lucky.

Ms. Moore was tall, with long brown hair that spilled half way down her back. She had giant eyes that never left whatever student she happened to be speaking with or listening too. Despite numerous requests from the school’s Principal, Mr. Butler, Ms. Moore liked to teach lessons using music she knew her fifth grade students would enjoy. “Know your audience, Mr. Butler,” Roy Drummond had overheard her say to the principal last year in the hallway after she had brought in a particular hip-hop song to demonstrate “the artist’s use of language.”

Ms. Moore finished taking roll, then called Billy Crabtree to the front of the class. “Billy,” she said, handing him a stack of plain white paper. “I’d like you to hand one sheet to each student.” She turned her attention to the class. “And I would like each of you to make a name tag for your desk.”

Ms. Moore parted her lips and showed her perfect white teeth to her new roomful of students. “Before I hear a chorus of groaning on our first day together, let me explain your assignment. I would like you to take this sheet of white paper and transform it into something that best represents you. If you were to disappear tomorrow and the only thing that you would be remembered by was this single sheet of paper, what would you want it to say to the world about who you are?”

Ms. Moore sat in one of the empty half sized chairs at the front of the classroom. “You can use any materials you’d like and the tag can be any size. You may cover it in drawings or fill it with words, but I expect it to be taped to the front of your desk tomorrow morning before I call role. You may have twenty minutes to start the project now. Whatever you do not complete, you may finish at home.”

Ms. Moore stood, smiled again, then turned and walked to her desk.

“Wow,” I thought. This really was going to be my lucky school year. Not only did I get Ms. Moore, but my plans seemed to be falling right into place.

I’ve always been a fast artist and twenty minutes was more than I needed to make a rough sketch the assignment. I folded the paper in half and drew everything a sixth grade teacher would expect on the front. I had pictures of movies, books, video games, candy, action figures, and my family. I even threw in a unicorn jumping over a rainbow just for grins. When time was called, I slipped the sheet in my backpack and began to mentally rehearse what I was going to say to my mom.

“So how was the first day,” our mom asked Nicole and me a single question meant for both of us as we both piled in the back seat.

“It was great,” I said. “I got Ms. Moore.”

“You did?” I could see my mom’s smile through the rearview.

“Can I get a cell phone?” Nicky asked.

“No.” Mom said.

Silence filled the car and I thanked Nicole inside my head for asking our mom something so completely absurd before we even hit the first red light. The request I had been rolling around in my head seemed all of a sudden reasonable. “Can you take me to the Friendly Dollar?” I asked when we were just a few minutes from home.

My mom looked at me in the mirror. “You hate the dollar store,” she said. “Every time we go, I have to listen to you whine, but sure,” she shrugged, “I don’t see why not. I’m going on Saturday, you can come with me then.”

“I meant tonight,” I said, pinching my face into a perfect pretty please.

“Why on Earth do you need to go tonight? We bought your school supplies a month ago.” I didn’t say a thing. “Does this have to do with whatever it is you’ve been working on?”

I stayed quiet, though I don’t really know why. Trying to keep something from my mom was like trying to keep from getting sick when everyone in your house is sneezing.

“I don’t want to say.”

“I don’t want to say can wait until Saturday,” she said.

I stayed quiet for maybe another minute. “I’m thinking of starting my own business,” I shifted in my seat, “and I need some supplies.”

“A business, huh?” My mom lifted her eyebrows. “What kind of business?”

“A business built to serve the needs of the modern pre-teen,” I said.

She smiled, then almost laughed, though I could tell she was trying to hide it. “And where are you planning on basing this business, may I ask?”

“In my backpack.” I grinned. “It’s a mobile business.

“What are you planning to shill in your backpack, Kelly?”

“My inventory will change with the needs of my customers.” I was still smiling, though she had clearly stopped.

“I think you spent too much time at the lake with your grandfather.”

“Maybe,” I played back. “He definitely left me with a few things to think about. I’m going to need your help Mom.” I changed my tone to mock serious. “Are you with me?”

“I don’t know Kelly. Do you have the school’s permission?”

“Well,” I said, “I was thinking I would take the ‘beg for forgiveness’ instead of ‘asking for permission’ approach.”

At least I was honest.

“Kelly,” my mom said. Her voice all of a sudden sounding like it had been lifting weights. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with this.”

“Mom,” I started, in a tone of voice I hardly ever used; the one that often got me what I wanted on the rare occasions when I did. “Do you trust me?”

“That’s a ridiculous question.”

“Just trust me Mom and I promise I won’t let you down.”

“Okay,” she finally said, after a pause so long that the song on the radio ended and a new one started. “But I will be telling your father.”

“Of course,” I agreed, then sat back in my seat with a wide smile spread across my face.

“That’s just perfect,” piped Nicky. “Kelly gets to start his own business and I can’t even get a cell phone for emergencies.”

I wore my grin the rest of the way home.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Why Winter is My Favorite Season

admin — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 07:00:11 +0000

Winter comes every December which is the last month of the year, at least if you are like me and live in the northern hemisphere. Winter is my favorite season. Here are five reasons why.

1) I love snow and winter is the only season when it snows in California. That is the state where I live.

2) Winter is the season when we celebrate Christmas, Chanukah and Kwanzaa. I love to sing Christmas carols, like “Let it Snow” and wait for Santa Claus to come down the chimney!

3) Winter is also when we celebrate New Year’s. I really like New Year because we get to see the calendar change. This year it will be 2010. Happy New Year’s!

4) My birthday is in January, which is also in winter. This year I will be eight years old!

5) I think that winter is the most beautiful season and even though it’s cold, I don’t mind.

Most of all, I love winter because it is a time to take a vacation with my family and friends.

Happy winter!