The dog licked me awake early this morning. Well, early for my slumbering house of teenagers house. And I stayed awake for the quiet.
As I type to you, snow layers the landscape out my window like fondant. I love its muting effect–on schedules, on sound. My life craves more quiet, for the love of Mike. And the end of the year always seems to hush my own soul into a more contemplative place.
The English teacher of my junior year could have, at varying points in the year, landed squarely in both “Wisest Writing Mentor” and “She Needs a Pat on the Back…Off a Cliff” categories.
She scrawled Blah over my paper titles. Castigated my writing publicly. Scoffed at my conclusions.
The first time I met her, I entered my friend Kristen’s shop jittery as a triple espresso. She’s a multi-published author who didn’t know me from scrambled eggs. A mutual friend simply knew my resume, knew I was beginning a blog.
I was on “home” assignment from our post in Uganda (“home” while living overseas = weirdness. Every dang time). Perhaps I was most embarrassed that stress sweat tumbled off me in waves; I remember thinking I smelled like a packed African minibus. (Despite my insistence, my mom says I can either have 1) natural deodorant or 2) friends.)
That day, in the whirlwind of working with kids at home, I received the kind of email I felt in my chest. Bad news.
I heard my respiration accelerate as my fingers curled the counter’s edge. My daughter watched my face, then looked at the screen.
So I have a teenager, and another just about. Most of me is tickled pink about all the real conversations we get to hold, all the fun we have as a maturing family, all the crazy jokes they tell me that leave all of us laughing.
And there’s this leeettle part of it that scares the bejeebies out of me.
Seemingly separate note: I have recently acquired an agent for a non-fiction book I’m writing, which makes my heart do little cartwheels of happiness. It was a moment I wasn’t sure would ever happen.
Well. I’m going for it.
This week is a writer’s conference, when I’ll be doling out book proposals to agents and receiving manuscript critiques. It feels a little like laying down in the middle of I-25 at this particular moment. And yes, one of the proposals is…fiction.
I’ve been energized by the enthusiasm for this super-cool rubric (evaluation tool) for peer, self, and even teacher evaluation form for speeches and oral presentations.
So I wanted to follow it up with another tool I’ve just created for use with my own students: a rubric for peer, self, and teacher evaluation for students’ writing (fiction or non-), for use in our new “writer’s workshop”.
It’s roughly appropriate for grades 4-6, complete with Lego minifigure clip art! There are two per page. I laminate these for reuse with dry- or wet-erase markers.
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
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