Thursday. Eighth grade English. Sixth period.
I was covering the special ed teacher of a co-taught class. I've worked with and for Ms. R many, many times (like the long-term when she was on maternity leave, and she mentioned how her son started kindergarten this year. Yikes). So, I sat back and listened as she explained the project to the kiddos.
They had just finished reading The Lord of the Flies. After turning in their notes packet for the book, the kiddos were assigned a final project. And as many of you are writers, I think you might find this project really fun.
The kiddos were to write a story, could be in journal form, but also could be narrative. They were to imagine that they, along with an adult chaperone and up to fifteen of their friends, were going on a field trip on a plane over the water. They crash. They end up on a deserted island.
The story was to be told in three parts: day or two after the crash, a few weeks into life on the island, and ending with a rescue (or not). Each part was to be 500 words. The adult chaperone does not make it, and must be dispatched in the first part, within a day of the crash. The other kiddos can survive or not.
Ms. R said that their story did not need to resemble the book they read and it could include fantasy elements. They got points for "entertainment value", so making the teacher laugh was encouraged.
And when it came to the doomed chaperone, Ms. R said she had been killed off myriad ways in previous years. She said that one student was angry at Mr. J, so they had him eaten by a snake.
After the detailed instructions, Ms. R had them get into groups (if they wanted to work with a partner) and get brainstorming.
As I walked the room answering questions (I had a pretty good grasp of what Ms. R was looking for), I heard my name. Which was odd.
At no point on this day had I been introduced to the kiddos. My name was not on the board. (Usually Ms. R says something, but she got distracted by something and missed it.) But, I have had these kiddos in various classes before, so many of them have met me.
I wasn't being called. But I heard my name. I approached the boy. He said that he was going to use me as the chaperone in his story. I nodded. I pointed out that I would then have to die somehow in the story (or be abducted or have something happen that removed me from the group). He pondered this.
Oddly, I felt honored to be considered for his story.
Then one girl was very upset. Another student informed her that she was going to be one of the fellow students in her story. I pointed out that she could then include her in her story and kill her off as revenge. She was oddly comforted by this.
I will not ever know how these stories turned out. But really, I don't begrudge Ms. R all the grading she'll have to do once those stories are turned in.





