Aliens by Holly Hughes

/ Colorado Writing Project / Leave a comment

I live with Aliens.
They’ve been with us for millennium,
but they are not like you and me.
With me they walk around on their
five,
six,
seven toed feet.
You know,
Hemingway loved them.
These aliens come from that Hemingway line.
Perhaps there’s something of Ernest in them.
They are dramatic after all.
Crying out at odd times.
Not too clear about what they’re trying to communicate.
Saying it regardless.
Staggering there and then here
on those
five,
six,
seven toed feet.
Willing to do anything to remain, the
Center of Attention.
Hacking sounds.
Piles left in hidden places
to be found
when others are present,
visiting,
or stepped on in the middle of the night.
Perhaps Hemingway was an Alien.
I can see him flicking his tail,
Certainty in his Being.
I provide for my aliens and they ignore me.
I put treats in their food to help their
skin,
digestion,
teeth
and they stare me down.
Really?
I’m not necessarily afraid of them, mind you,
even though I wake to see them sitting above me,
but it’s not like they’re my friends either.
They’re nothing like you and me.
They’re aliens.
That’s really all there is to say about it.

 

Holly Hughes teaches at Community Montessori in Boulder and completed CWP 1 in June of 2015.

“CWP has ignited a passion for writing in me that I wasn’t aware of before.”

/ Sarah M. Zerwin / Leave a comment

On Thursday afternoon, I invited participants to share some golden lines, their favorite lines of writing that they’ve produced so far this week:

For months, dogs chirruped about the sheer fact that Max had survived the situation at all, let alone that it would forever launch him into a sort of notorious fame. Max was considered one of the baddest prairie dogs in the history of of Rabbitbrush.

 

We are so good at circling each other / avoiding what needs to be said / that we come together like an explosion of startled birds / wings flapping, feathers ruffled / startled and angry.

 

There is only this loud memory that needed to be written. Needed out.

 

I clumsily grasped the reins with the hand already filled with the bit and the bridle. “Easy girl. Easy.”

 

Ultimately we travel alone and need to know the world through the eyes of our souls.

 

Perhaps Hemingway was an Alien. / I can see him flicking his tail.

 

The din of kids yelling and screaming around me contrasted with the silent shame that began to overtake me like a dark cloud.

CWP Co-sponsors Colorado Day of Writing

/ Colorado Writing Project / Leave a comment

CWP co-sponsored a Day of Writing for teachers on April 7, 2012.

Twenty-four teachers attended the session in Colorado Springs led by CWP Director, Karen Hartman. Host, Vince Puzick, gave the following report of the day:

After a 90 minute workshop session with Karen Hartman to get our narrative juices flowing and ground us in the idea of teacher stories, the participants wrote independently for the next three hours. When we gathered together to share our writing at the end of that time, we had a rich tapestry of teacher stories. Our narratives ranged from humorous lessons during TCAP preparation, to emotionally moving accounts of teacher-student interactions, to articulated frustrations when the cry for more accountability crashes into our plea for more authentic experiences for our students. As is usually the case after experiencing writing workshop and sharing our writing, a small community of teacher-writers came together and shared in meaningful ways.

Participants had this to say about the day:

This was a shot in the arm for me! I love that there was time to write deeply. When is the next one?

Excellent conference–I want to use the line “Who needs to hear this story and why?” in my class.

Today was a wonderful opportunity to get to sit and organize my thoughts and to be reminded that, as a teacher, I have to take the time to tell my story.