Table Rock

I love that George Singleton didn't feel angry when everyone quit staring at him to watch a deer walk by. I looked at him, wondering if he would feel miffed to be upstaged. He didn't. He wanted to see too. I think that personifies the essensce of a purposeful writer: one who wants to experience the world and share it with others. I could tell, listening to George, that he lives his whole life like a writer. He steals from every day events and puts them on paper. He is thinking about all of it at once, it seems. After listening to him speak, I began to think of every experience waiting in line as a potential moment for inspiration.

I will miss coming to class. I do miss it. I wonder if I will find the time when school begins again to really write or even to be the kind of writing teacher I want to be. I'm so thankful for the summers to regain my idealistic thoughts, motivation, and ideas, so each year gets better and better.

Table Rock was a lovely way to end this class, as we saw the power of writing...the power of an adjective to make someone feel special... the power of writing down thouts as a way to understand them...the power of sharing stories to create empathy, trust, and community.