Writing

"On this day the December sun bakes on my classmates and me. Fresh tracks in the snow lead on, towards mystery. A bald eagle takes flight across the mountains. The ground is wet from melting snow and above us the sky is a clear blue that hasn't changed for millions of years " --Q.G, Mount Logan Discovery Student,  2008-2009

Mount Logan Discovery students were writers first. In the field, we focused on making writing powerful by "showing" rather than "telling." A phrase we often repeated is "Don't tell us it was beautiful--show us what was beautiful." To accomplish this, we had students create sound maps, word lists, metaphors, and fragments before they put it all together. Field journals were "conventions-free zones" where students captured the essence of a place without worrying about spelling and punctuation. When we returned to the classroom, students polished their writing in computer labs. Classroom mini-lessons on conventions were based upon needs we observed in students' writing. 

The following are samples of student writing from our field experiences. Enjoy. 

Autumn Along the Logan River

The river soothingly flows across the rocky, leafy bend, carrying the pear colored leaves through the reflecting water. As I walk across the leaf colored trail, I pass the ancient willows bending and slowly, ever so slowly surrendering their remaining leaves to lightly fall and join their friends. I cross the bridge and feel as if I am entering the fairy tale land of "Bridge to Terabithia." The forest of trees is surrounding me like a crowd of goblins. I step on the mushy, muddy, leaf covered ground and feel as if I have left Earth itself. The thickest of the ancient trees has an old wooden bird house with a metal top. It seems as if it has been there for ages. There is nothing like the ethereal beauty of a fall forest to warm your heart and soul.

Hardware Ranch 

Sitting on the hay bale I see the swishing snow and flaking hay swirling around my head in the wind. The exciting feeling in my heart just wanted to explode out of me in tiny bits and pieces because I was getting closer and closer to the anxious elk. With the help of oily hands we get started with the first part--setting the trap. The rusty chains clanged like church bells as we came near, ready to do their job. The next task came quick as lightening when the diesel tractor started to move. We drove slowly toward the elk, then we cut the strings with a ping. We moved with ease as we kicked hay flakes off one by one. 

Wood Camp Hollow

As I sit on a rock, surrounded by birds chirping in the aspens, I look out to see almost one hundred mountains looking down upon me. Some are sprinkled lightly with snow as clouds rest on their tips.

The birds sound like a pretty whistle going back and forth as the trees stand and listen. Looking ahead I see a small mountain sprinkled with trees and rocks. The sun shines on me as a chilling breeze passes by.

Dry Canyon

The white day comes late, the white day is here. 

The white snow rounds into balls as it falls.

The slight day slips by. The white clouds fly by. 

Logan River Walkway

On this perfect autumn day, I sit quietly by the river. I am alone with my thoughts and my imagination. The river rushes by as if it has an appointment to keep. The last leaves of autumn cling tightly to the willow trees in defiance of the oncoming winter. They remind me of crayons hanging from the tree waiting for a child to bring them to life. I watch in anticipation for leafs to fall, thinking they are blessing trying to find me.  As they slip silently into the waves of the river they leave me longing for the glorious days of summer gone by.

Secret Place - Winter

The days and memories of summer are long gone now. The branches of my tree look like the boney fingers of a wintery death, reaching out to find me. The snow is cold yet beautiful. I feel as if I have entered a scene from Narnia. The sun sparkles from the snow like crystal shattered on the surface.