"All this happened, more or less."

This past weekend, I completed a 30ish page research essay. The road to completion was paved with tears and blocked by the most random acts of procrastination. My research concluded, my essay successful, what I really learned from my three-day writing spree is that I have an almost infinite capacity for distraction and procrastination. Here are some of the clever ideas I had while I was supposed to be focused on writing: Hair's up - time to write! #1 My hair is my kryptonite. I simply cannot be expected to write if my hair is down. If, at any point, I realize that my hair is down, I must stop writing immediately - even if I'm in the middle of the most brilliant line ever written - and go style my hair so it's pulled back from my face. Super-typing nails...'click' 'click' 'click' #2 I can't be expected to type page after page with nails that can break, so obviously I need to stop writing and immediately visit the nail salon

This is a very general overview of the research I have been conducting on merging the writing workshop model with the AP Literature classroom. Choice in reading and writing are great, but can we give students ample choice and still prepare them for a rigorous exam? Why yes, yes we can! I would especially like to thank Amy Rasmussen, who began this inquiry long before I did and has applied the workshop model, to the benefit of her students, in the AP Language classroom. I couldn't ask for a better mentor and friend. My resource list is only briefly displayed. Please contact me if you would like a copy.

Whither Thou Goest, I will Go                 In the summer of 1992, time stood still. Others might not have noticed this phenomenon, but I experienced one perfect day, deceptively simple. I lived only in that moment: safe and loved and happy. My wedding vow to Erik contained the promise, “whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge,” and as an Air Force wife, I came to know all that those words entailed. Erik’s first assignment was to a small Air Force base in California. I enthusiastically moved to the golden state with expectations of grand adventures, yet found myself not near Los Angeles, nor San Francisco, nor anywhere fascinating like that, but in a little town in the middle of the state called Atwater. The town was dismal. It wasn’t special geographically, culturally, or historically, and its only claims to fame were its small military base and its proximity to Modesto – the birthplace of George Lucas. However glum my initial expectations of an

While I have changed my friend's name to protect her anonymity, the story below depicts an actual event that occurred when I was in 2nd grade. The fragmented thought, lingering questions, and feelings of doubt therefore reflect my state of mind at that point as well as how I remember it when I look back on the memory over three decades later. Rock, Paper, Scissors By Amber Counts   I can’t believe I lost rock-paper-scissors. It’s not really fair anyway because I don’t know how to play. Jenny learned from her older brother. She must know some secret I don’t. The game can’t be as simple as that, can it? It’s so hot outside. Cooling off in the creek seemed like a good idea, but walking home to get us some water – the result of losing the bet – my jeans are plastered to my legs in an uncomfortable way, chafing as I walk uphill towards my apartment. Sloshing waist-deep in water all day looking for crawfish and pretty rocks, but not being able to drink the water, is really i

A few of you asked me to post this, so here it is. This poem might be a bit corny, but I think it reflects the fun and joyous attitude that Marla brings to our writing workshop while still being a respectable Doctor, full of knowledge and skills that she shares in the spirit of collaboration. Marla is truly an inspiration! For those of you who weren't with us, the apple puns correlated with a delicious baked apple breakfast pastry, courtesy of Whitney Kelley. Dr. Marla, We congratulate you on earning your Ph.D.! They say an apple a day keeps the doctor away, but we think the opposite is true when the doctor is also a teacher. So here’s an apple for the teacher, Doctor, and friend. You are the apple of our eye, the best of the bunch, the cream of the crop. You have the sophistication of a pink lady and the sharp wit of a granny smith. You’re as sweet as pie. You’re good to your core. Your knowledge is bountiful. We know you would turnove

I began the North Star of Texas National Writing Project summer institute with a burning question in mind: how can I incorporate a writing workshop model into an AP Literature classroom? Abhorrent to a test-prep approach to teaching, though fully aware of my responsibilities to enable students to succeed on the high-stakes AP exam that marks the culmination of the course, I endeavor to teach the necessary skills and facilitate students' acquisition of knowledge in a way that feels authentic despite the standardized testing parameters. This is a tall order. Students need to know what to expect on the AP examination. There is nothing like it in the world of daily reading and writing. For those of you who are not familiar with the structure, students read 4-5 passages, a combination of prose and poetry, and complete 55 high-level multiple choice questions within an hour. Next, they write 3 essays in 2 hours based on poetry, prose, and the "open-ended" prompt for which the

It's important to know how to read cursive writing. Reading cursive is not important in the age of computers. Most of us type, anyway. Knowing how to spell words properly is important so that students can clearly communicate what they mean. As long as a student can right-click and select the appropriate word, he or she will be alright. Writing legibly is imperative and indicative of eye-hand coordination and a sophisticated mind. Doctors are notorious for writing sloppily and are successful nonetheless. These are just a few of the differing viewpoints shared by teachers of different grade-levels and content areas during our writing workshop today. Clearly, we are in an age of transition, but isn't education always in such a state of flux? The rapid rate of technology growth since the computer revolution is responsible for many of the dilemmas we face in education today, but teachers have grappled with similar changes since long before the digital age. My daughte

Okay, so I have to admit something. I've heard about this poem and assignment combination before, and while I know it has merit for students in classrooms ranging from elementary to secondary, I wanted to throw a temper-tantrum when asked to write one myself. I could hear my inner child exclaim "I don't wanna!" After listing memories in several different categories, I felt the too-often experienced pang of knowing that most of my early memories range from fairly dark to outright tragic. The very fact that I have worked to create a new reality in my adult life and a new type of family for my children makes it difficult for me to revisit some of my earlier memories. I don't like to dwell though I acknowledge that it is important to know where I come from. So, there you have it; I ultimately talked myself into completing the template and resultant poem. Here are the results: Where I’m From by Amber Counts   I am from music, from alternative rock and melanch

based on Wilfred Gordon McDonald Partridge by Mem Fox What is a memory? Something warm: Benji during the "snowpocalypse." He is paws down the best dog that ever lived. Something from long ago: My boyfriend (now husband of 23 years) risking the band director's wrath to give me a kiss, 1990 Something that makes me cry: My dad and I getting to know each other after too many years apart. This was taken during his 1993 visit to England while I was pregnant with my daughter. We laughed at our luck that, of course, on the day we visited Buckingham Palace, there was no changing of the guard. He didn't get to be a grandfather for very long before he passed away, but he loved his granddaughter deeply. Something that makes me laugh: During a period of "baby fever", I spontaneously bought this black bear hamster so I could fulfill those nurturing instincts. I mean seriously, what 39-year-old does that? Sammy (the hammy) still entertains me dai