A visit from Senator Tom Daschle was one of the highlights of the 2001 Summer Institute of the Dakota Writing Project. But a good deal more happened, as you will discover from reading some of the pieces that DWP teachers wrote during the 2001 Summer Institute. Many of these writings were also published in the 2001 summer issue of the DWP newsletter.
 
 

Sara Hefling, SDSU, Brookings Stacy Huber, Wakonda High School, Wakonda   Senator Tom Daschle visits the Dakota Writing Project   Senator Daschle listens to DWP teachers. Senate majority leader and South Dakota senator Tom Daschle came to the Dakota Writing Project at the University of South Dakota on July 2, 2001, to learn about DWP and education issues--and who better to learn from than some of South Dakota's outstanding teachers? In a room filled with teachers--and almost as many representatives of the press from all over the region--Senator Daschle talked with these teachers for nearly an hour,asking a number of on-target questions. Focusing first on DWP, Daschle said, "I'd really love just for anecdotal purposes to learn more about what you've done during the last month and why it's valuable and what kind of importance you put on this and whether we ought to be willing to invest in programs like this." DWP teachers, nearing the end of their four-week summer institute, answered with enthusiasm. Paula Wilson, a Dakota Valley Elementary teacher, said, "I'll go back to school this fall a better teacher for having been in the Dakota Writing Project." Sioux Falls teacher Stefanie Rysdahl said this was her second year participating in the DWP summer institute and that her experience in DWP was more valuable and long-lasting than her experience in other teaching institutes she has attended. The teachers talked about all of the writing they had done in the DWP Institute and how learning to see themselves as writers was helping them to become better teachers of writing. Daschle asked, "How important is it that you receive federal funding to be here?" DWP director Nancy Zuercher responded quickly to the possibility of blockgranting of federal funds under proposed legislation. "We would be in Pierre lobbying to get legislators' attention rather than working with teachers, which we're doing here."  Other DWP teachers made it clear that, as much as they loved DWP, they couldn't afford to be at the Summer Institute without the stipend that DWP provides. Mary Schmitz said, "It's why I'm here; I wouldn't have come otherwise." Senator Daschle's question regarding mandatory testingand assessment evoked some passionate responses. Overwhelmingly, DWP teachers felt that passing legislation requiring assessment would be detrimental to their students and to education as a whole. Stefanie Rysdahl stated that when mandatory assessments turn education into teaching to the test, she would leave the profession, despite her great love and passion for teaching. Mary Schmitz echoed Stefanie's sentiments. Mary pointed out that many students, sick of so much testing, don't take it seriously and, despite words of caution from her, fill in parts of the tests randomly, making "chains" and patterns as they fill out the tests, to amuse themselves. She added, "When it comes down to my reputation, salary, and job depending on students' scores, there is something very wrong with the system." DWP Summer Institute co-director Sue Morrell said about standardized testing,"It's not improving their performance. We're spending so much time preparing them for the tests that we're losing valuable authentic instruction time. We are giving them tests before we know what's in their hearts." Yankton teacher Michele Fleerwent on to explain, "The tests don't match our best teaching practices. For instance, we teach writing as a process which includes many drafts with revising and editing, whereas the national writing test asks the students to write their only draft in twenty minutes with awful prompts." Daschle, without being confrontational, went on to ask how, then, are schools held accountable without testing? Crystal Benning, a Madison teacher, talked about accreditation groups that help individual school districts identify their own needs and write their own curriculum. "There is assessment built into these plans with more appropriate ways to measure student success," Benning said. Senator Daschle remarked with surprise that no one had brought up teacher pay; South Dakota teachers are some of the lowest paid in the nation. Sue Morrell, South Dakota's English Teacher of the Year for 2000, mentioned that her new teaching job next year was going to mean taking a pay cut, but that she had made a conscious decision to make the move. She stated that she and her husband both teach and had reared four children on teacher salaries. She said, "It wasn't always easy, but you don't go into teaching for the money." Pre-service teacher Sherry Korthals said, "What it really boils down to is you need to pay teachers more. It's impossible for me to stay here with my student loans and teach on a first-year teacher's salary. I need to go out of state." Sara Hefling, who teaches at SDSU, said, "I grew up in a family with both parents as teachers. I understand what living on a teacher's salary means." She went on to say that, despite the poor salaries forteachers in South Dakota, she was going to pursue a career in education and not in the counseling field--a field in which she would have earned more money. She said, "There are a lot of kids out there in need, and school is sometimes the only place they can get that needed help." As a way of providing closure, Senator Daschle askedthe members to share some of the positive and negative things about the state of education in South Dakota. Mary Schmitz remarked that the positive was the students. She stated, smiling, that some of the best people she knew and some of the ickiest people she knew were her students--and she loved them all. Paula Wilson echoed Mary's sentiments. She said, "Because I teach on the borders of Iowa and Nebraska, I've had a number of opportunities to leave South Dakota and get better pay. However, I stay in South Dakota because of the students." Senator Daschle thanked Nancy Zuercher for inviting him and the DWP teachers for their input. The meeting ended with Daschle reminding them of thevaluable effect they have on young people. "By far, besides my parents, the most influential people in mylife have been my teachers," he said.     Stefanie Rysdahl and Mary Schmitz proudly hold up the front page of the July 3rd, 2001 issue of The Sioux City Journal, which featured an article on Senator Tom Daschle's visit to the Dakota Writing Project's summer institute. Stefanie's photo with Daschle appears on the front page, and Schmitz's comments are included in the article. Afterwards, Mary Schmitz told a reporter from The Sioux City Journal, "I was very flattered he came and that he wanted to deal with the issues instead of making it a photo op. I don't think his own opinion formed the agenda. I think he was really interested." While Daschle's visit may not lead to increased teacher salaries in South Dakota or to the failure of federal legislation mandating assessment testing, the teachers of the 2001 Dakota Writing Project knew that their opinions and concerns had been heard. Federal funding for the National Writing Project, and consequently the Dakota Writing Project, continues to remain a concern. Daschle told a reporter from Vermillion's newspaper, The Plain Talk, "What I was trying to get today was some of the rhetorical arguments that I need to go back and fight some more," adding, "We've got to be very concerned about losing the program sometime before the end of the year." Daschle has been a co-sponsor of NationalWriting Project legislation ever since he became a senator. Daschle's visit happened in part because of the persistence of DWP director Nancy Zuercher. She had met with Daschle's education aide in Washington, D.C. in early April 2001 and also in 1999 and 2000, extending invitations to visit the DWP.     Rebecca Tolly, Axtell Park Middle School, Sioux Falls Tolly tries PowerPoint for stages of writing As a former language arts teacher, I want to weave writing into my personal computing lessons. I came to the DWP hoping to find ways to advocate writing while working to meet the goals of my computer curriculum. My hope is to harness the eager attitude students usually hold toward anything computer-related and guide it toward using the computer as an effective writing tool. During the DWP, I identified my biggest challenge as the student tendency to compose on the computer and deem this first attempt a final draft. Since mine is not a formal English class, kids do not assume the same accountability for the quality of their writing as they would for language arts. I addressed this by making revision a natural part of the instructional process. I focused on one of my PowerPoint assignments in which students tell about themselves through a series of slides. On one slide they relate a scene from their childhood. Typically, the story is tapped out with little thought or planning. Once the slide is full, the story ends. I decided to break this one writing opportunity down to a progression of steps. DWP participants served as my guinea pigs as I tested this new approach. In the form of a bulleted list, we started by brainstorming memorable moments from childhood. Right away, scenarios came to mind of an escaped pet turtle or making a little sister eat soap. When the list was finished, we then worked on other slides depicting various aspects of our lives and personalities. Later we returned to the childhood slide to select one particular event from the list. After telling the story to a neighbor, we listed the important details on our slide. When this was accomplished, we sent our writing to the printer. On the hard copy, we created a topic sentence that would capture the attention of the reader. To give organization to our writing, we numbered the listed details to establish the order in which they would appear. Finally it was time to bring the story back to the slide in paragraph form. The experiment was a success. This approach allows students to walk through the writing process without identifying it as a "writing assignment". Furthermore, students can take time away from a particular writing task to work on other slides, which is an important ingredient in revision. I have high hopes for implementing this approach in my classroom this fall. . Computer as writing tool     Mary Tranberg, Lincoln High School, Sioux Falls Grounding your writing classroom Tranberg considers adapting Morrell's exercise for her own students Joe Jones at Lincoln High School in Sioux Falls, SD, on August 29, 2001, enters Room A401, Mrs. Tranberg's English classroom, and sees on the board: "Why write? How do I write? What have I learned about writing? What are the qualities of good writing?" He is overwhelmed and skeptical. What is this all about? I don't even like to write! What in the world are we going to have to do in here?! Although I am writing this article in Vermillion on the USD campus in the Dakota Writing Project's Mac lab on Thursday, June 21, 2001, I anticipate the above questions being answered by my students in writing on hot-dog folded paper. Sue Morrell, DWP Institute Co-Director, demonstrated the "Grounding Your Writing Classroom" activity on the second day of the writing project. In taking us through this demonstration, Morrell provided us with a way "to bring theory and practice together, from Day One, in your classroom" (from http://www.usd.edu/engl/DWP/activities/grounding.html on the Dakota Writing Project's website). I will use this activity in all of my high school language arts classes this coming school year. As Morrell led us through the grounding process as DWP students, I found it an opportunity to think about my own views of writing. Hearing the ideas of other participants in my group and other groups was valuable. The posters we created are still on the wall in Room 103. Second year DWP teacher Stef Rysdahl used the activity with her fifth graders at JFK Elementary School in Sioux Falls at the beginning of the 2000-2001 school year. "It seemed to make sense," said Rysdahl. She especially liked the poster on "What are the qualities of good writing?" As she uses the grounding activity for a second year, she sees herself adding to this poster as the school year progresses. Morrell explained, "I use this grounding activity during the first few days of class to set the tone for all writing that will come." The thinking/writing/sharing that this activity involves is invaluable. Morrell often breaks the activity into two separate class periods. The individual writing and small group sharing constitute the first class period. Small groups create and share posters for each of the questions during the next class period. At the end of my class on August 30 (end of the two-day activity), Joe Jones knows his own answers to the four questions, has worked with a group of his peers on one specific question, and has shared the small group's poster with the entire class. He may not be totally sold with my emphasis on writing, but he will definitely be grounded for the year. I hope this grounding will provide a "spark" or interest in writing that will connect Joe to himself, others, and the world.     Stefanie Rysdahl, JFK Elementary, Sioux Falls Stories from the classroom As a teacher of writing, Rysdahl jumps into the deep end of the pool I remember my summers in Clarkfield, Minnesota, spending many, many hours at the swimming pool. My childhood friend Sara would take a huge running jump and become fully engulfed in the frigid water. The diving boards beckoned Sara over to attempt the latest trick, whether it be a dive, back flip or belly flop. I would quietly sit by the pool's edge and dip my toes into the water. In descending order, I would adjust to the temperature before slowly sliding into the pool. The diving board's persuasive voice could not lure me to its risky practices. After a summer at the Dakota Writing Project, I plunged into the water, asking how can we as teachers improve our writing instruction? We tell our stories and allow our students to tell theirs. Only when we share our stories can we begin to understand each other and develop that universal story. These ideas were much more of a conviction in June than at the end of August when I had just had sketches scratched out in my head of how this was all going to work. I was going to let go and allow kids to tell their own stories. Nightmares that haunted me at the beginning of every school year took on an extra twist, as now the kids were not only out of control, but they were belly flopping into the water. And yet I was going to trust in this letting go. Stories and passions, not prompts and artificial writing activities, were going to guide my student-driven classroom. I couldn't help but test the waters by beginning with my stories. Stories from childhood like the tomato fight or a mistaken noon detention when all I was doing was telling a classmate to be quiet. My stories continued with the present--my family, friends, and my cute pooch, Tucker, and our adventures together. There was no turning back. The teacher was going to have to get in the water herself--to be ready for the divers and splashers, and more importantly, to be ready to pull in the toe dippers. Students entered a classroom where the community was built around reading, writing, and conversation. Students brainstormed their personal stories. Soon, the stories in the classroom began to multiply. There were coming-of-age stories like Ben's first water skiing experience, which ended up with swim shorts down to his ankles, or Alecia writing a letter to the father whom she had never met. There were passionate stories of beloved pets that would hide under the couch until coaxed out with favorite toys, or horseback riding lessons that also involved the down and dirty of stall cleaning. Other stories included sibling love and rivalry, embarrassing moments, or accidents that involved broken bones, or just resounding laughter. Some were about favorite sporting activities, and many others just involved time spent with family and friends. These storytellers followed me during recess duty. They told a few friends and me personal stories that were still too private to put on classroom paper. Stories of bullies in and outside of the school day, and friendships gone awry, or of parents fighting and splitting up. These stories continue to grow as I returned to the 2001 DWP with the desire to continue on my quest of creating a classroom of writers and learners/scholars. Once again, I am listening to the wonderful stories that have created a strong community of learners. I am telling the story of myself that will once again empower me to strive towards a pool full of learners where belly flops are accepted along with back flips, swan dives, front floats, and backstrokes. A pool where once again I will be in the water guiding, coaching, and maybe even stepping onto that diving board.      Nancy Zuercher, USD, Vermillion E-Anthology and newsletter offer avenues for conversation, publication DWP teachers in the 2001 Summer Institute flexed their communication muscles in the NWP E-Anthology and in newletter writing, thanks to Michelle Rogge Gannon's leadership. The E-Anthology is an on-line center for writing and professional conversation among participants in NWP summer institutes throughout the United States. When DWP technology facilitator Michelle Rogge Gannon introduced it to us, she modeled how to use the site and then helped us register, log in, introduce ourselves, and respond to a professional conversation in the Salon. By the end of the third week, three of us had the courage to post writing in the Open Mic section and anticipate the joy of responses by people in other projects and our own. Sometimes the responses pointed the writer to new ways of seeing, as Shari Williams of the Little Rock Writing Project wrote to Crystal Benning: "This sounds like the groundwork for a great Position Paper to me." What better way for an editor to introduce a newsletter than with a newsletter on the making of a newsletter? Michelle's four-page newsletter was a veritable crash course in newsletter journalism. Armed with it and Michelle's instruction, we quickly learned the importance of a newsletter's purpose and objectives, the inverted pyramid for articles, the difference between hard and soft leads, and the joys of fresh language. Eager to write, we signed up for articles to cover the 2001 Institute, drafted them, and discussed them in our response groups. Some of these pieces appear in the online issue you're now reading--the largest-ever in the history of The Write Connections. The DWP 2001 Summer Institute Newsletter (Vol. 10, No. 1) is available in in four parts for easy downloading and viewing. (Adobe Acrobat Reader required.) Pages 1-5. Pages 6-10. Pages 11-15. Pages 16-20.  Carol Hefling, Elkton High School, Elkton Sue Morrell: Destined to teach The golden moment in a day! Our teacher for the morning had just paired us to interview one another. "Formulate three questions each and interview one another. Then write your interview." How good could life get? A personal interview with Sue Morrell! I had first met her at an institute at Northern State University a number of years ago. No one in the institute had any difficulty in recognizing quality. Here was a bright and talented teacher. I thought, "Wow! I'd love to teach with her. The things I could learn!" Over the years I have admired her from afar, noting workshops she'd been a part of or reading something she had written for Prairie Winds. In fact, her being a part of the Dakota Writing Project was an added incentive for applying. If I couldn't teach with her, she could be my teacher. Opportunity was right there waiting for me. Now to come up with three good questions--I should be able to go for some depth here: this is no beginning teacher. The questions may not have been wonderful, but at least they were created quickly. (Quickly seemed to be the operating word for the moment.) She turned her chair in my direction, and I was face to face with an icon of mine. Sue was giving me and my silly questions one hundred percent attention. I stumbled through my first question: "What particular thing or class have you taught in the past twenty-five years that you find the most satisfying?" Sue sat up a little straighter in her chair, a smile broke across her face, and the most enthusiastic voice I'd heard from her in this institute said, "Sophomores!" Momentarily, my world crashed! What could this woman be thinking? She said, "Sophomores!" How could I have been so wrong about anyone? She found sophomores satisfying? Didn't she recognize what those fifteen-year-olds were? My brain was whirling and the base of my icon was shattering. Then I realized what she was saying as she laughed, adding, "They're squirrels!" My goodness, she does know what they are. The knowledge of that alone gave me a great moment of relief, and I nearly shouted, "Yes!" She went on by repeating, "They are absolutely squirrels!" I had no problem voting with her on that question. I explained that I personally referred to mine as "wormy." As she went on with her explanation of what a pleasure it is to have them back when they are seniors and much more mature, she again struck a chord in my soul that let me know I had been right about her all along. Here is a teacher who understands a portion of the joy of teaching in a rural school where you get a second chance with students when they are frequently more receptive to learning. Feeling much better, I moved to the second question: "What do you feel is your strongest attribute as a teacher?" It was all I could do from simply laughing aloud when she said, "Flexibility. I don't mind change. I crave it." There it was---my mantra to student teachers. Flexibility. I didn't expect to hear that from Sue. All of her marvelous capability, and she values her flexibility. Her answer to my final question was the real clincher. When asked, "If you were not a secondary teacher, what would you do?" she stopped and thought for a few minutes. Then she said, "I don't know. I've thought about that." Her words then tumbled over one another as she explained that ever since she was a little girl, she always wanted to be a teacher. Being that teacher is a life-long dream and goal. Sue loves it and doesn't want to do anything else. Just as I thought. If Sue were not a "born teacher," she certainly acquired that "teacher-stuff" in those extremely early years--that time when the qualities of a teacher are built-in--before college and teacher training. Sue was probably already serving in a role as a teacher when she was in grade school. I didn't ask her, but I rather suspect that she has been a teacher in some capacity since she was six years old. I wonder if Wagner fully understands the blessing that they are about to receive. At the end of our talk, my icon base had been securely duct taped back together; I would still love to teach with her!      Nancy Zuercher, USD, Vermillion DWP celebrates Poetry Day with Lee Ann Roripaugh "Carry a small notebook or a couple of cards to tuck in your blue jeans to record images. Later, the images will find a home in your writing." Poet Lee Ann Roripaugh made writing poetry seem easy as she launched us into Poetry Day. Poetry Day, July 2, gave Summer Institute participants time to test her theory. Lee Ann, author of Beyond Heart Mountain and USD's newest English faculty member, designed the day to enhance attention to all of our senses and to enable us, through them, to turn the smallest details of our lives into poetry. In the morning workshop, she read us examples of poems that use the five senses, interspersing them with biological details. One of them was "Smell is the most difficult sense for writers to capture, because smell is located near the brain's memory center and not close to the language center." Buoyed with this information, we were invited to write. "With all your senses open, make a list of everything you did, or that happened to you, between waking up and coming to this workshop," she said. "Then circle every fourth item and make another list that describes in vivid, sensuous detail the sights, sounds, smells, tastes and touches associated with this item." She invited us to choose one of those lists for the next step, writing a paragraph that "turns this ordinary everyday moment into something vivid, rich with detail, extraordinary, interesting and significant." Sue Morrell's poem "Breath"  grew out of this exercise (see it in the right column). We remembered and wrote for thirty minutes. Afterwards we shared our poems and reflected on the experience. Lee Ann began. "Half of the writing process is noticing and writing down the details." "How?" Stef asked. "By paying attention," Lee Ann said. "On a recent trip to New York, I saw a mosaic of butterflies--beautiful, gruesome, and sinister all at the same time--that had visual resonance for me. Eventually it will turn up in my writing." "How do you write?" Stef asked. "I'm open to the sensual and musical aspects of the language. I listen to it." Chris urged, "Tell us more about yourself." "I filled bluebooks with my writing before I went to kindergarten, and I played piano first when my mother put my playpen on the piano bench so that I could reach through the bars for the keys. I published my first poem when I was eleven--in Seventeen." "What's your favorite place to write?" Nicole asked. "My study at home is a whole room of one's own. My typewriter and computer are there, and I latch out the cats. Sometimes I write outside. I hang out at the coffee shop and work out some lines. Like Ann Lamott says, it's hard to get the first draft." "Do you share your writing with your students?" Sue asked. "Not in an undergrad class because I want them to feel the course is about them and their writing." "Do you have an editor or agent?" Sherry asked. Lee Ann smiled. "Poets don't usually have agents; that's not lucrative enough! I take care of royalties and keeping my poems submitted to literary journals. That takes a lot of time. The administrative end isn't as much fun as the writing." The afternoon workshop focused on what Lee Ann calls "Poems of the Ordinary or Everyday." We warmed up with a "Ten-Minute Spill Poem" which required a proverb that we changed and five of eight words she listed. Sharing, we laughed at the results and marveled at the group's creativity. Next came a longer exercise, "Look Inside Your Own Fridge." We could choose a letter poem, a letter addressed to someone c l o s e to us which had nine specific items, including a shared memory, a confession, an item of gossip, and a beautiful experience. The other choice was an "I Believe" poem. It was grounded in the notion "As poets, we must know what our boundaries are, even if only to break through them" and exemplified by a conversation between Crash and Annie from the movie Bull Durham. Open mic at the Coffee Shop Gallery ended Poetry Day. Lee Ann read selections from her prize-winning poetry collection Beyond Heart Mountain. Afterwards, she and DWPers lingered to talk, savoring the day. We learned that Lee Ann is currently working on a collection of short stories based on her music school experience. "I like musical elements of poetry and rich detail in fiction." She confessed that she is prone to writer's block between projects. When it happens, she trades off genres. She also follows Hemingway's advice to "Start something a little for the next day." Research also helps her to break writer's block. Now her passion for writing and research is insects. The writer and educator are intertwined in her. "In some senses, I see myself as a writer first. That way I can be a model for my students." Some of her favorite poets are Elizabeth Bishop, Anne Sexton, Linda Hull, Mark Doty, Cathy Song, and David Wojan. Previous Summer Institute participants Heather Gayken and Linda Haar joined us for Poetry Day. Poetry Day was made possible by a grant from the South Dakota Humanities Council.     Compiled by Mary Tranberg, Lincoln High School, Sioux Falls 2001 DWP Compilation "I Believe" E-Z Bake Poem Special thanks to Lee Ann Roripaugh Things I believe: Living life is about compassion, patience, love, and kindness. Complaining crushes the spirit. TV is the downfall of human motivation. Every child deserves a loving home. Nap time should be applied to everyone, not just preschoolers and kindergartners. You can do anything, but not at the same time. Time reveals the truth. In every crisis there is an opportunity. A jelly donut and a cup of black coffee get the day headed in the right direction. Couples should be screened and licensed before becoming parents. Little kids should be allowed to be little kids. Love expands with love. There is dignity in risk. There are monsters under the bed. Too many dill pickles ruin a personality. There is healing power in fresh water and clean air. Long distance phone calls are a good investment. Children will do homework only if threatened. Life goes on. We become better people when we laugh. Rules to live by: Always read to a child when they ask. Never underestimate the power of the pen. Always buy lemonade from a child's stand. Never take for granted a single moment. Love like it won't ever hurt. Wear clean underwear in case you're in a bicycling accident. Get enough sleep. Eat small. Learn what you can, listen more than you speak, and manage your money. Take care of people first, things last. Strive for balance. Follow your instincts. Love every day. Grow.     Nancy Zuercher, USD, Vermillion When I Was Young in Ohio This poem first took shape s e v e r a l years ago at the Aberdeen Writing to Learn Project, when Janine Mohr introduced us to quickwrites. The first stanza is from the original. Then it was titled "When I Was Young on Westlake Avenue." I worked at it off and on, and resurrected it last year when I did a demonstration on quickwrites. The stanza about sidewalk stands was my writing during this demonstration, which shows an important principle of DWP: teachers writing with their students. When Denise Nelson asked us to bring black and white photos, I found one of the rare ones of all four members of my family to work with. However, it wasn't from Westlake Avenue; it was from Vermilion, Ohio, where we lived for a year in a winterized summer cottage, which explains the title change. I loved and love remembering and hope to publish this poem as a gift for my family. * * * * * * * * * * * * * When I was young in Ohio, we played Kick the Can after supper, and Mother fixed ice cream and ginger ale sodas. Dad sat on the porch reading the Saturday Evening Post. The cat watched, and the pin oak guarded our house. When I was young in Ohio, we played baseball in the middle of the street, work up if there were several players, catch and hit your own, if there were only two. The cars didn't mind as much as our parents did. When I was young in Ohio, we couldn't swim in Lake Erie. It was polluted. Every morning I rolled my head around to check for a stiff neck, the first sign of polio, before we swam in the Lakewood Park pool. When I was young in Ohio, we built our own Disneylands out of boards and boxes in the back yard. We walked the plank and crawled through tunnels, and the pin oak shaded our creations. When I was young in Ohio, we had sidewalk stands in the summer to raise money beyond our allowances. We read each other's comic books and sometimes bought them. We spent most of our money on each other's stuff. When I was young in Ohio, neighbors planted victory gardens and gathered milkweed pods to stuff life jackets. Mother knitted warm sweaters and socks for the war effort. We saved milk bottle caps and collected newspapers for paper sales at Lincoln School. When I was young in Ohio, Dad made the backyard into an ice skating rink. He flooded the yard once and then misted it each evening. After school we skated and played crack the whip under the pin oak's bare branches.   Michele Fleer, Stewart School, Yankton Writing a Group Poem I have had a difficult time getting my second grade students to show much interest in reading or writing poetry. If it wasn't hilariously funny, they didn't care to read poetry, and they seemed to be afraid to try and write their own poems. Early last spring I was reading the Prairie Winds anthology and read a wonderful group poem written by some students in western South Dakota. I decided a group poem might be a good way for my students and me to get started. In this activity I use an interdisciplinary approach, combining art, science, and writing. A great article about integrated teaching is "Themes or motifs? Aiming for coherence through interdisciplinary outlines" by Barton and Smith in the September 2000 issue of The Reading Teacher. Shelley Harwayne also addresses integrated curriculum and poetry in her books Going Public and Lifetime Guarantees. Materials needed: The following is a list of supplies for the art project and resulting poem that my class used. Materials will vary depending on the art project, poem topic, and age of the students.     watercolor paper  construction paper watercolor paints  scissors fat brushes  glue salt  writing paper and pencils chalkboard or paper large enough for whole group to see Procedure: Complete the art project (underwater watercolor scenes for this demonstration). Be sure there is lots of discussion as you work, because some of this talk will become the basis for your poem. For this lesson we talked about the differences between oceans and the lakes and rivers of South Dakota. Brainstorm a list of words that come to mind as you study your finished artwork. Many of our words described what you might hear, see, smell and feel underwater. We also included underwater animals and plants. Use the word list to begin creating phrases that tell about the art. We used our list, as well as other words that came up, to tell about life underwater. We worked as a whole group, but you could break up into smaller groups at this point and end up with several poems. You want everyone to be able to be a part of the process so smaller groups also give everyone a chance to participate. After the group has generated several phrases, begin combining phrases or adding to phrases to create the sentences that will become the poem. Talk about things like movement and rhythm, and how you can use the number of words and syllables in a line or sentence to give the poem the form and feeling you want. Alliteration sneaked its way into our discussion, so we played with how we could use that in our underwater poem, too. Move the lines in your poem around, or try putting in something new. Don't forget about a title! Finally, walk away and leave the poem alone for a day or two. When the group comes back together, decide if everyone feels comfortable. Does the poem say what we wanted it to say? When we read it aloud, how does it sound? Are we happy with the title? The group must decide how to do the final copy of the poem. Finish by having the poem read aloud and displayed with the finished artwork. The following poems were written by the 2001 DWP teachers. Seascape Seaweed sways from side to side Distant clicks and haunting wails Beyond the reef, clownfish cavort in the coral, The dolphin darts and dives Translucent fish and mysterious sea urchins undulate     under the pulsating, caressing waves Sharks approach gliding by, Danger. A muffled hush. Stagefright Clown fish flutter around     as if performing on stage. Dolphins telling jokes,     erupting in peals of laughter. An octopus waves its arms,     calling for an encore. The starfish hangs back in the coral     afraid to step on stage.   References Barton, B.C. (2000). "Themes or motifs? Aiming for coherence through interdisciplinary outlines." The Reading Teacher, 54, 54-63. Harwayne, S. (1998) Going Public: Priorities and Practice at the Manhattan New School. Portsmouth, NH: Heinenmann. Harwayne, S. (1999) Lifetime Guarantees: Toward Ambitious Literacy Teaching. Portsmouth, NH: Heinenmann.     Pam Holloway, Axtell Park Middle School, Sioux Falls Surf's Up! Editor's note: As of the summer of 2001, these site listings were accurate. Some links may no longer work.  Do you ever wish you had the time and energy to search for those helpful Internet sites? Well, look no more! While this list is hardly complete, it should prove user-friendly for educators of all grade levels and subject areas. The cited locations represent a compilation of personal favorites used in my classroom, recommendations by librarians and media specialists as part of a listserve, and a series of searches and visits to the recommended sites to verify the practical, useable materials available to educators. If you think there are hundreds, and perhaps thousands of sites available, you are so right! In an attempt to simplify matters, it has been my personal experience that it is best to stick to those sites that are either recommended by your colleagues or teacher-created. Need a place to begin? Try logging onto the following sites: http://www.internets.com A great link to thousands of databases http://www.refdesk.com/ Good reference site http://www.studyweb.com/ Helpful hints for teachers and students http://www.ipl.org/ Internet Public Library http://www.ntu.edu.sg/library/stat/statdata.htm Contains statistical information from all over the world, from the Census Bureau to world economics, to a Virtual Library where one may search using subject guides. Need to "beef up" your existing lessons? Lesson plans are only a click away. One finds the best results by logging on to sites such as the following: http://teacher.scholastic.com/activities/index.htm Great site for lesson plan ideas in all subject areas and grade levels. Features an "Ask the Author" section, student and teacher sections, and monthly themes. http://www.createdbyteachers.com/ Teacher-created materials that have already been successfully used in the classroom, and a handy create-a-calendar section. http://illuminations.nctm.org/ Contains math activities from the National Council of Teachers of Math. http://www.education-world.com/ Uup-to-date research, lesson plans, and many relevant articles. If you enjoy challenging your students with puzzles, riddles, and word games, take a few minutes to browse through these sites: http://members.home.net/teachwell/ Wacky World of Words. All kinds of word puzzles, from Rhyming Buddies to Anagrams to Oxymorons. http://www.nytimes.com/ Official site of The New York Times, where one can register for free delivery each morning through email and enjoy not only all the sections ofa major newspaper, but also includes the delightful puzzle section for children and adults, with daily and weekly news quizzes. http://www.puzzlemaker.com Great program for teachers to customize puzzles in their subject areas-­from crosswords to word searches to mazes and more. Feeling overwhelmed? If you still have that familiar drowning feeling, paddle through http://www.geocities.com/flack46/. Mr. Flack's Ultimate Educational Resource Heaven, where you will float your way through more ideas than one is able to cover in an entire school year. One will find everything from school life to professional growth to personal life, and anything in between. Surf's up! Don't be afraid to dive right in!        Mary Schmitz, Roosevelt High School, Sioux Falls Carpools, Collaboration, and Camaraderie With gas prices creeping close to $2.00 a gallon, practicality necessitated I find a more economical way to traverse the plains to the Dakota Writing Project. Through fate, friends, and e-mail connections, my carpool materialized in late May. Time would tell whether this would prove to be a forced friendship of like-minded educators (read: we all teach and can't afford to drive solo for fourteen days) or one of mutual respect, interest, and camaraderie. Previous carpool mismatches had made me gun-shy of long-term commuter commitments. A quick check of this arrangement, however--all non-smokers, an absence of noxious perfume, a prevailing optimistic attitude--prevented jettisoning any of the members. Safe common denominators of similar teaching careers and long-suffering spouses balanced the equation. As a result, stories of Mary's grown children, of my teen and pre-teen daughters, and of Nicole's newlywed status initially ate up interstate miles. When we instinctively uttered similar invectives against rude, dangerous drivers in construction zones, we knew the chemistry clicked. The two-hour trek served as a valuable envelope of time to talk shop. Verbalizing our goals, objectives and procedures for our upcoming individual demonstrations helped clarify the process for whoever had the (mobile) floor. Suggesting ideas, asking questions, or clarifying steps seemed a natural collaborative task. Confessing fears and concerns regarding an imminent presentation was natural and cathartic. We joked that the workshop time clock should begin and end as we left and returned to Sioux Falls, lopping two hours off our regulation workshop time, so "on task" was our carpool behavior. But when I look back on these carpool days, I'll remember laughter. Although it sounds ridiculous, I'll recall rocketing to 75 mph (after creeping behind exasperatingly slow vehicles in construction zones) and pretending to be test pilots battling the effects of G-force on our flapping cheeks and compressed faces. I'll recall satirically establishing a job performance rubric for machinists operating heavy equipment in the ever-present construction zones: "The excavator's bucket load and dumping trajectory shows mechanical proficiency." "The excavator's turning radius needs to be modified for maximum rotation efficacy." "The excavator's dust-to-dirt ratio exceeds acceptable road hazard visibility standards." I'll recall giving each other verbal high-fives after successfully parallel parking and mocking one another with, "Why don'tcha write a poem about it?" While genuine entertainment was sparse sandwiched between semi-trailers and tailgating barnacles, laughter was always a constant. An unexpected benefit afforded me by DWP did not occur in the Mac Lab or in classroom 103. It did not occur during the animated discussions of the six-trait rubric in our very vocal literary circle, nor was it exposed in thoughtful ruminations "Writing Into" or "Out of the Day." Of all unlikely places, my carpool from Sioux Falls to Vermillion encouraged me to continue to take risks in my classroom-- and to concoct believable potluck stories! The camaraderie of the carpool enhanced my appreciation of the Dakota Writing Project, both coming and going.          Sue Morrell. Wagner High School, Wagner Banding Together . . .  with Dennis Sjolie Give a group of teacher-writers a selection of instruments, a lyric or two, and a little bit of time and what happens: Noise? Certainly! But, hey. . .it's creative noise. Dennis Sjolie, an Associate Professor of English at USD, discovered the DWP Institute teachers on the second-to-the last day of our workshop. Sjolie, whose expertise is teaching ESL students, shared his technique of combining language study and music. He began by asking us to read and listen to the lyrics of "If I Were a Captain." We talked about the language lessons in the lyrics: nouns and verbs and word meanings, including idioms and underlying meaning, which are often a mystery to ESL learners. Sjolie then introduced Johnny Horton's rendition of "The Battle of New Orleans." This song combines the above-mentioned language lessons with a historical event and the War of 1812. The folk tale lyrics and the rhyme and rhythm of this song suggest many possibilities. Sjolie invited us to be inventive and develop lyrics of our own. Some of us worked solo, others in groups. We had great fun parodying the work of this year's institute.  Mary Tranberg, Mary Schmitz, Becky Tolly and Crystal Benning hammered out this rendition, with the Daschle stanza added by Nancy Zuercher. It is lovingly titled "The DWP Fight Song." In June of ë01 we took a little trip, Down to Vermillion (the fees were quite a rip). With Zuercher and Morrell as our writing guides; We knew without a doubt we were in for quite a ride. Chorus: We fired our pens but the prompts kept ëa comin' Stretching us way beyond our comfort zone, The sixteen of us in Dakota Writing Project Learned more together than we ever would alone. On July second we had a special guest Named Tom Daschle who was on an info quest. He came a long way from Washington, DC, And he was followed by the paparazzi. Chorus: (repeat) We loaded in our disks and we powered up the Mac, We knew at this point there was no turning back. We dabbled with some poetry; we wrote a little fiction, For some of us this became a bit of an addiction. Chorus: (repeat) Dennis Sjolie's excellent presentation taught many valuable lessons for classroom teachers everywhere: Use music!  Bring more than one song to the group. Learning language can be both fun and valuable. For more information and an excellent list of references to the use of music in the classroom, look for Sjolie's article, "Beyond Passive Listening: The ESL Class Becomes the Band," in The Journal of the Imagination in Language Learning, Volume IV, 1997.

Michele Fleer, Stewart Elementary, Yankton "But won't I have to write?" Michele Fleer explains why teachers should apply for the DWP Institute. "It sounds great, but won't I have to write?" This was the response I was likely to receive when I asked my colleagues to think about applying to the DWP with me. As if writing were completely out of the realm of possibility--like scaling the side of a mountain without a rope. I shared information from the DWP website that I hoped would persuade them. Everyone agreed it sounded almost perfect. It would be great to talk with other teachers about writing in the classroom. It would be great to hear guest speakers share their specialized knowledge. It would be great to receive a stipend and get six hours of credit. Except for actually having to do some writing, it all sounded great--and I applied alone. Now, as I finish the Summer 2001 DWP, I want to address some of the fears my teacher friends shared with me and possibly persuade them to apply next year. You don't have to be an accomplished writer. Some of the members in our group claimed they didn't even like to write. They, of course, had wonderful stories to tell and found out they actually enjoyed sharing them. All teachers, kindergarten through college level, benefit from attending the DWP. The demonstrations led by this summer's participants included something for everyone. We learned that a writing activity prepared for a high school class can often be adapted so that it works equally well in an elementary school setting. Writing is an integral part of our curriculum regardless of what grade or subject you teach. The DWP gives you the opportunity to become a more confident writing teacher as you learn theory, review research, practice assessment, and discuss with your colleagues ways to improve the writing of students. So, back to the question "But won't I have to write?" Yes, you will. In fact you will do a lot of writing, but it will be within a non-threatening, supportive group that will make you a better writer and a better teacher.     Michelle Rogge Gannon, University of South Dakota, Vermillion Cyndy DeMers focuses on classroom publishing and inservice DWP's inservice coordinator, Cyndy DeMers (pictured above on the left), came to the 2001 Summer Institute at USD Monday, July 2, 2001. She led a demonstration on "Creative Classroom Publishing"--which grew out of her original demo at DWP in 1999. DeMers showed teachers how they could use a little computer know-how to create brochures and other classroom publications. DeMers also talked about the possibilities of inservice.The teachers were all interested in learning how they could bring DWP to their schools for inservice; they also learned how the demonstrations they had been doing in the summer institutes might be potential inservices at schools throughout the state. DeMers teaches computer courses at Winner High School in Winner, South Dakota.     Nicole Groen, Hawthorne Elementary, Sioux Falls Writing can start with a name Nancy Zuercher's name activity leads a reluctant writer to write. "Write about our names? Why? What kind of an activity is this going to be and how can I possibly find something to say about MY name?" A name is something you put together after arranging four to eight different letters to make it something others can call you by. And that is all--right, Nancy? The first day of the DWP Institute we were to get out some paper and write what our name means to us. "What kind of a project is this?" was my initial reaction. This prompt fell under the category of those stupid writing prompts we have to let our students write about for the state writing assessments. As I looked around the room, I noticed everyone was busy writing. "About what," I asked myself. "They can't possibly be writing about their names. Boy, you can give anything to these writers and they just fly with it. But I am not a writer. I don't spend my days writing for heavens sakes. I teach school." When I finally bucked up and got over my attitude of feeling a little insecure, I began to jot points down that describe me as an individual. Come on, I was named after a soap opera star, so what wonderful background meaning will my name really have? Before I knew it, I had a page of writing about my name. Wow, maybe Nancy knew what she was doing all along. I did not realize this at the time, but not only was I finding meaning for my name, I was immersing myself in writing. And I was liking it!     Mary Schmitz, Roosevelt High School, Sioux Falls What's in a name? Mary becomes Mary Jane--sometimes "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet" Shakespeare reminds us. Certainly I adhere to his lyrical advice as I chide my thirteen- and ten-year-old daughters when they clamor for Gap shorts and pants, American Eagle shirts and tank tops, and Nike socks and shoes. In closer observation, however, I'm a hypocrite. Not necessarily in light of the clothing labels I wear or the make and model of the car I drive. No, the "rose" which lacks sweetness by "any other name" in my life has always been the use of my middle, Jane. I've endured innumerable inane references to Marys owning lambs, growing gardens, and being contrary (quite). It seems, however, that nothing could pique my irritation as much as the indiscriminate use of my middle name--but eventually its use would have great significance in my life. To those who grew up Catholic, "Mary" conjures up a roll call of Mary Elizabeths, Mary Katherines, and Mary Margarets in white blouses and plaid-skirted uniforms. I never attended Catholic school. I was one of those public school kids. I was a plain Mary--thank you very much--a shy, skinny, tomboyish girl who could throw a softball and spiral a football. I wasn't a knee-socked Mary Jane. I was a skinned-knee, base-stealing Mary. In grade school I never encountered another Mary in my classes. I never needed to resort to my middle name to identify my drawings or designate which homework paper was mine. I never had to acknowledge I was a Mary Jane, unless my friends would telephone my house. Then my mother would call for me with a mellifluous "Mary JANE!" Disgusted, I'd stomp to the phone, knowing I'd have to deal with shocked silence or good-natured teasing. High school added another reason for hating my middle name. No longer did "Mary Jane" mean something as innocuous as shiny patent leather shoes or as saccharin as best-friends status with the likes of Pollyanna. Oh no. "Mary Jane" was slang for pot. Weed. Mari-ju-annnnnnna, man. My mother's lilting call for "Mary JANE" now evoked peals of sarcastic laughter from the telephone line. In college the "Jane" followed me on attendance rolls, but all that really mattered there, it seemed, was 58658, my ID number. My name was just an indifferent addendum. Impersonal, yet functional. Later, my American history professor dredged up the middle name, long-buried except for important documents like my birth certificate and diploma insert. And my college application and registration. In taking roll on day one in American History Survey 251, Dr. J.K. Sweeney somberly and officiously intoned our names. Anderson, James? Benson, Marsha? Clayton, Christopher? So it went. I was a W. I had lots of time to endure the perfunctory procedure. With my name, however, he paused. "Wellendorf, Mary Jane?" I looked up, surprised to hear someone other than my mother--or a telephone friend mocking my hail to the phone--utter my middle name in public. Embarrassed, I corrected him. "It's just Mary. No Jane." "What?" he persisted in his Southern Kansas drawl. "No, it says here, Mary Jane." Okay. Whatever. I began to panic. I didn't want to cause a scene in my first college class. Fine. To you I'm Mary Jane. And I continued to be Mary Jane throughout Civil War and Reconstruction, Military History of the Civil War, American Diplomatic History Parts 1 and 2, Military History of World War II, and numerous workshops and graduate classes. Some twenty plus years have flown by. Wedding celebrations, baby congratulations, Christmas felicitations, personalized book dedications, and e-mail and telephone conversations always warmly began, "Mary Jane," with that velvety drawl, part teasing, and part paternal. In his voice my name--even on paper or on a computer monitor--sounded beautiful. Our affection for each other remains mutual, our respect for each other undeniable. Most recently the music of his greeting has taken on a muted note. The unexpected death of Mira, his beloved wife and best friend, has taken its toll. His grief and resignation are measured in his voice. The greeting is sadder, more complacent, less impish. As a mother of two daughters, I realize I will always be Mary Jane to my own mother. It is the cross I bear. To Doc. Sweeney, I'll also always be Mary Jane. But to me, even in his sadness--maybe especially now because of his sadness--my name will forever be "sweet." What's in a name? Mary becomes Mary Jane--sometimes.     Sherry Korthals, Preservice Teacher; USD graduate student in Secondary Education Her Name is Maria Dolores But they call her, simply, Dolores. And in the tongue of her people, Dolores means pain. Dolores denotes sorrow. Dolores signifies regret. It conjures a gossamer vision of Mary, weeping on the slopes of Golgotha. Pain. Sorrow. Regret. And the woman I know as Dolores spends her moments in sorrow,  as the days of her life trickle into a past filled with regret. The woman, called, simply, Dolores, spends her time biding at the kitchen table, oilcloth beneath her delicate fingers. Waiting for the screen to glide open. Waiting for her husband, her Juan, to enter so that they may dine this night, together. Waiting in silence and sadness for life in Mexico to open a door and to offer her a place as a woman, she sits. Yet her husband does not present himself, for he is occupied, supping with his mistress. And Dolores knows that her Juan won't be home but Sunday-- the lone day he sets aside for the wife they call Dolores. Still, and despite her knowing, she prepares him a meal this evening, tenderly setting his place and brewing for him a cup of coffee--strong and black, as he demands. Resignedly, she seats herself to mark time, as her own simple fare grows cold. And Dolores eats alone. Night after night. Month after month. Year after solitary year. Dolores means pain. Dolores denotes sorrow. Dolores signifies regret. It is her reality. It is her truth in the Mexican world she inhabits as a woman.       Crystal Benning, Madison High School, Madison Framing Note: An article on framing highlighted in the Salon section of the National Writing Project's 2001 E-Anthology inspired this reminiscence. --Ed. I was teaching sophomore literature in Colman, South Dakota, in the 1980's. The students' assignment had been to read Willa Cather's short story "Neighbor Rosicky." I began class by asking the students to take out a sheet of paper and describe to me in writing what they knew about "Neighbor Rosicky." Ryan Zwart was a tall, awkward, likeable farm kid. He began his writing this way: "Neighbor Rosicky was a hell of a man. As a matter of fact, he reminds me a great deal of my grandfather. Let me tell you about himÖ." He proceeded to write me a touching story about a loving grandfather. Framing hell of a man, much like my grandfather." How could I fail a story like that? Even though it was obvious that he had not read "Neighbor Rosicky," he got a D- for this beautiful narrative about his grandfather. When his mother, Phyllis (an English teacher in the Sioux Falls system), came in for conferences, I told her she should read the touching story her son had written. If she looked at me puzzled, I failed to notice. Three years ago, as I stood at a farm auction, surrounded by those students now grown into handsome, self-assured men, I found out that that this grandfather had never existed. He was a made-up man for Mrs. Benning's assignment. Even if Ryan didn't read Cather's story, he certainly mastered the art of framing!        Nicole Groen, Hawthorne Elementary, Sioux Falls Isabella Writing out of the day on June 14--our first potluck Today was very enjoyable. I'd have to say that lunch was the best part, NOT because we were able to eat, but because we shared stories about the foods we had brought to our noon potluck. The day I signed up, I was not thinking about the activity of talking about a family tradition. I signed up for a pasta salad, which has no meaning for me as far as family recipes or long-time memories go. I explained to Sue how I do not really have traditions when it comes to cooking. She replied in a little sneaky voice, "Well, they don't have to be real, we will never know." THAT opened my mind and gave me the OK to go ahead and be a little creative. I talked with Mary T. and Mary S. (my carpool buddies), who helped me to come up with my own "family tradition" story. During lunch I listened to several different stories. They were all so sincere. I began to wonder how all of these people had something to say about what they had made. By the time it was my turn, I was calm. I said that my great, great grandma acquired this recipe in an Italian restaurant in New York City. She had asked the waiter for the recipe of the pasta salad they had served. The waiter looked puzzled at first. He then told her the name of the lady who had created the salad and walked to the kitchen to get her. Out came Isabella, a petite, frail little lady. After talking with Isabella, my great, great, grandmother learned how this sweet little lady ended up in New York City. Isabella came from Italy after her husband was killed in a boating accident. Because Isabella had no friends or other family, she had decided to flee the memories in Italy. This recipe for pasta salad was her husband's favorite thing in the world and her only memory of him. While telling this story, my face was somber, my voice serious. Others around the room were listening intently, almost no one smiling because it was kind of sad. Looking around, I caught my car pool ladies smiling to beat heck!! I started to chuckle and tried to make it sound like a funny part was coming up, but the chuckles got the best of me. I found myself with a lack of composure and knew others were catching on to the FAKE story. Quickly, I pulled myself together and told them that Isabella carried the recipe in her pocket so it could be close to her heart. The laughter from my car pool ladies was now out of control. The looks on people's faces were indescribable. They could not believe they had fallen for a story like this and that I would have made up something like this. Needless to say, we all had a good laugh.       Heather Lund, Hayward Elementary, Sioux Falls Revisiting Kindergarten When I heard that all of the DWP teachers would be giving demonstrations, I was apprehensive. I thought and rethought what a kindergarten teacher could present that would be applicable for all teaching levels. I took a quick snapshot of my kindergarten day and realized that it was time to take fifteen women back to kindergarten and present the benefits of incorporating flexible groups into the school day. In the article "Flexible Groups," Catherine Valentino states, "Teachers are discovering that informally grouping and regrouping students in a variety of ways throughout the school day can make a teacher's job easier and students more productive. This teaching strategy is called flexible grouping." During my demonstration participants reflected on their own kindergarten memories by writing, drawing, and sharing. We also viewed a current kindergarten report card. This allowed the DWP group to see if and how kindergarten has changed. The fun began when teachers experienced for themselves the benefits of using flexible groups. Moving from group to group, they explored the world of kindergarten by creating sentences from puzzle pieces, forming letters and words from Playdough and foam letters, writing stories based on the story of the day, and viewing journals written by actual kindergarten students. This led to a discussion on how grouping could be used in variety of classroom situations and at different age-levels. What follows is a compilation poem that I wrote based on the memories that DWP participants shared. Kindergarten wasÖ Singing, painting and thinking Sitting in a circle Finding the Gingerbread boy Having a favorite teacher Learning not to cry Building memories A beginning experience Learning to play Learning to share Learning to learn Kindergarten isÖ Listening, sharing, and solving problems Singing, painting, and following directions. Knowing the alphabet, sounds, and numbers. Beginning to read Writing your name, letters, and stories. Learning to control emotions. Learning to listen to others. Learning to play!    Michele Fleer, Stewart Elementary, Yankton The Lesson of the Lever It should have been the perfect science lesson. I had all the materials set up and ready to go. I had practiced the activity several times. I completely understood the intricate details of how the lever, simplest of all simple machines, works. I was prepared to lead my second graders into an exemplary learning experience. I started the lesson as I had carefully planned. We read some introductory material from our science book together. I shared with them a trade book about levers; what they are, what they do, and how they work. Smooth sailing so far. What should have been the highlight of the lesson--putting together and using the lever--came next. This is when things started to go downhill. Simply getting past the materials was the first major hurdle. They included a large rock, the handle from an old garden rake, and a paper bag with handles. Nothing out of the ordinary, one would think. One would be wrong. First the rock. I passed it around so everyone could feel for himself or herself how heavy it was. As the rock moved from student to student, one of the boys said, "Cool rock, Mrs. Fleer. Where did you get it?" "At Crazy Horse Monument in the Black Hills," I replied. "Are you noticing how heavy it is?" "I been there!" said another student. "Did you climb up by the guy's head?" "No, I didn't. Who has a prediction about whether the rock will be harder to lift or easier to lift with our lever?" I asked, deliberately pulling the discussion back on track. "Well, how'd you get the rock then?" asked Student Number Two. "They had a pile of rocks from the blasting site. If you donated some money, you could take one of the rocks," I said patiently. "Blasting! Sweet! Like with dynamite?" asked Student Number One. "How much did it cost you?" asked another. "Yes, with dynamite. And it didn't cost anything. You could just give whatever amount of money you wanted. I think we put in one dollar. I'd really like to hear someone's prediction now, please." Still patient, but getting a little edgy. "But what about if you just put in a penny? Would they let you take a rock then? Or would they make you put it back?" asked the money-man. "Jana has her hand up," I said. "Do you think the rock will be easier or harder to lift with our lever?" "I don't know, but once at the grocery store I saw this metal box where you could put money and then take a piece of candy. They didn't even tell you how much money. I think that is so dumb because you could put in a quarter and take one piece of candy and some other person could just put in a penny and take lots of candy. They shouldn't have stuff like that I think." It was time to move on, with or without my prediction. "Please hang the paper bag over this rake handle," I said to my helper for the day.  As she proceeded to do so Jana, the irate candy shopper, yelled, "Hey, that sack came from the grocery store where they have the metal box for candy money!" My patience was gone. I was frustrated, but before I could express this another girl said, "We never go there because my mom thinks they charge too much." I gave up. There didn't appear to be any way to save this l e s s o n so I let it go. The wonderful interactive hands-on experience became a teacher-led demonstration. Not as meaningful for my students, but they were, at last, seeing a lever at work. After I was done, I noticed a little boy, who had been very interested and attentive, had his hand raised. My faith renewed, I smiled and said, "Yes, John, do you have a question?" "Yeah, what happened to the rest of that rake?"     Sue Morrell, Wagner High School, Wagner Breath Listening to the radio, I learn that scientists blow on butterfly wings to force the wings to still. I am transported, then, to the empty lot where we play baseball, where yellow and black and orange scraps of cloth bob and drift in the tall grass beyond the outfield. Game over, we capture butterflies when they fall asleep on the heads of weeds. We pinch their folded wings in grubby fingers. We giggle as they dance, touch their frantic legs to our noses, tickled by their struggle to escape, to fly away. When we let go, wing powder clings to our thumbs, our forefingers. It is powder finer than confectioner's sugar, finer than the dust at the edges of dad's garage. The butterflies lumber away, or drop clumsily to the ground. Their wings are stripped, their flight cancelled forever in a world where only we mattered.       Heather Lund, Hayward Elementary, Sioux Falls "I love you, Mommy." Peacefully I sleep, snuggled between my denim blue sheets topped with my bright yellow comforter spattered with blue leaves. Suddenly, my sleep is interrupted. What is that I hear? Has someone broken in? No, no, I reassure myself. It is ok; I must still be in a dream. Reality sets in as I turn to see the piercing blue eyes of my two-year-old, her little hands reaching out to touch the bed. I realize that there is little sound, just the faint breathing in and out of her precious little mouth painted a dull pink. I look and there she stands, tall and proud, wearing her very black patent leather dress shoes that I thought were so cleverly hidden. Her pink satin nightgown envelops her stout little body (definitely not a typical girlish figure). Quickly and quietly, she touches the stroller that accompanied her on this night excursion from her room to mine. She bends next to the little basket and scoops up her empty pink sippy cup. Using her sweet little oops, I-woke-you-up voice, she says, "Mommy, I have more milk pease?" Before I can respond, she puts the cup down on the bed next to me and reaches for my glasses. She knows that I cannot see without them. I slide out my bed and reach for her hand. We walk silently to the kitchen. The task of pouring milk in basic darkness is achieved with only minimal spillage, to which she politely responds, "Thank you." Big hand in little hand, we tiptoe back to her bed. A slight nudge and Marley is back in her "big girl" bed. After giving one sweet little kiss to my princess, I turn to leave and hear the faintÖ "I love you, Mommy."        Carol Hefling, Elkton High School, Elkton A Memorable Christmas On my fourth Christmas I was three years old. For several days before Christmas, Mother had insisted that I stay out of drafts on the cold floor by staying in my bed, which had been moved to the living room nearer to the heating stove. A small Christmas tree had been erected on a card table in that room--the first Christmas tree that I can remember. In my memory it was beautiful, but I also always associate it with smell and taste from a small bright blue bottle of cod liver oil.  Although my daily dose caused me to gag, looking a the tree made it bearable. Christmas Eve finally arrived. There was warmth and laughter and family filling our old farm house. At some point during the evening, our dog, known affectionately as "Ole Pooch," began some serious barking in the yard beside the house. As the barking became louder and spiked the air a little more rapidly, it was apparent that Pooch had moved up onto the porch. The barking gave way to a low growl and then silence. At that very second a vigorous pounding vibrated the kitchen door. My father, who was already almost to the door, opened it, and there stood Santa Claus with Pooch's mouth attached to his posterior. He asked in an overly-loud stage whisper, "Leslie, could you call off this dog?" Dad could, he did, and my mother immediately led the shaken man to a chair and plied him with a cup of coffee. As soon as he had had a swallow or two of coffee and "damage control" (my mother) took care of his torn trousers, he presented me with a doll buggy containing a lovely doll and quilts. I really don't remember if he brought anything else or even what else may have happened that night. I do remember that I loved the doll and buggy and that Santa Claus had a voice that sounded for all the world just like our neighbor Clyde McDowell's voice. As I think about it a bit, I also seem to remember that Pooch--for whatever reason--hated Clyde McDowell.       Stacy Huber, Wakonda High School, Wakonda Where else but Wakonda On my daily hikes to lunch with the Sioux Falls teachers, I began to realize just how different our communities really are. Listening to their stories and becoming jealous of the anonymity these teachers have in such a big district, I began to think of the uniqueness of my small town. This writing came from this reflection. Where else but WakondaÖ Can your best friend be your enemy? Can Second Street be a rural route? Can a cordless phone become your mobile phone? Can you call the wrong number and still talk for hours? Can a split-foyer home be headliner on the Holiday Tour of Homes? Can half your class be "Ganschows"? Can your lockers not have locks? Does a wedding dance translate to town dance? Can your best car be a golf cart? Can your pre-schoolers become varsity cheerleaders? Can your only true straight street be named "Slant Street"? Can you find six kelly green houses? Can you drive 20 miles and still be in the middle of nowhere? Can you take a van on the senior trip? Can you be a high school teacher and have lunch with your kindergartner every day? Can a coach become a god? Can your intercom system be shouting in the halls? Can your teenager hang-out be on Main Street in front of the gun shop? Does eating out mean sitting next to the town drunk and inhaling 50 pounds of non-filtered cigarette smoke? Are you guaranteed Homecoming Royalty? Can you qualify for reduced lunches as a local tenured teacher? Can you learn how to write from Mrs. Huber?       Paula Wilson, Dakota Valley Elementary, Dakota Dunes Duct Tape Don The man who got the Rural Electronic Cooperative out at 6:00 a.m. June 14th, 2001 Flag Day, was memorable because of a very humorous friend; it was, truly, a day to remember. Let me introduce you to Don, a retired elementary principal of 30+ years. Don's fix-it qualities are somewhat less than his qualities as a principal or a teacher. Don has the idea that if it can't be fixed with duct tape, it can't be fixed. Don is the duct tape king. Back to my story: early, on a cool, somewhat rainy South Dakota morning at about 5:30 a.m., I was out walking and saw Don coming out of the golf course. He stopped his pick-up and we exchanged good mornings. He proceeded to tell me he was on a mission to fix the flag on the golf course. Being a veteran, Don did not appreciate the way the flag was being allowed to flop around on the pole. I encountered Don again, this time coming out of his garage holding a small piece of rope and a roll of--you guessed it--duct tape. I asked what his plan was.  He said, "I can fix the flag with this," displaying the small piece of rope and the infamous duct tape. Now, I was getting another picture of Don climbing a ladder to the top of the pole with his rope and duct tape. This I had to see, so I headed to the golf course. Don didn't have a ladder but the Rural Electric Cooperative Company, their large truck with the movable basket. They raised Don in the basket to the top of the pole where he in turn repaired the flag with his rope and duct tape. As Don was being lowered to the ground, I could see that he was feeling pretty full of himself. After all, he had just repaired the flag with his trusty rope and duct tape. He looked up at Old Glory and said, "Now, that's better." After all this, the Rural Electric truck drove away. I walked over to the flag pole, grabbed the rope, and lowered the flag to a height it can be worked on from the ground. Don turned ëand looked at me with that Don Long twisted smile and said, "Anyone could do that, but not everyone can get the REC to come out at 6:00 a.m. on a rainy South Dakota morning."      Sara Hefling, SDSU, Brookings Home II We run on our own time and have our own ideas about things. Hospitality is paramount, as is generosity, kindness, and offering a helping hand. That's just how it's done. Many of us are the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of those who pioneered this land. People from other parts of the country talk about what good workers we are and that we instill a strong "work ethic" in our children. But, hardwork is a part of everyday life. That is just how it is here on the prairie and how it always has been. If you don't work hard, you don't have anything. We tell time by the season and the weather. And when those two come together to say it is time to work the land, clocks lose their meaning. The sun tells them when to get up and the sun tells them when to quit for the day. And the rain dictates when they get a day off.        Rebecca Tolly, Axtell Park Middle School, Sioux Falls Good-bye Hurry up and go. I am already rehearsing the distance  between us. I want to push past your departure with its threat of salty grief. I need to know that I can survive in the landscape of your absence.