"So. Tell me a story."

My daughter was sitting on my bed, frustrated and slowly progressing to beside herself.  A draft of a report was due, and while she didn't mind doing the work, she couldn't understand her teacher's criticisms of her work, so she wasn't quite sure how to fix the issue so she could go back to getting her usual A's.

Me, being Mom, and trying to help without over-helping, and explaining at least some part of the writing process to her, so that she could become more comfortable with report writing, as the more she advances in school, the more report writing will become a huge part of her life.  Left up to her, she would do math and science all day every day, and skip all of the writing stuff.  But English, History, and Social Studies, with their associated long format, detailed answers, will begin to be a factor in a year when she begins middle school, so learning the basic, five paragraph essay format has been her quarterly project since the beginning of the 3rd grade.  Having not really learned this format until later in my high school career (shame, I know), and seeing as her current teacher also knew that I was a blogger, I was determined to help her get through The Writing with as much grace and elegance as a 4th grader could muster.  She loved the research portions of these reports, and printing pictures off of the internet or building models, but The Writing?  The Writing was like pulling bad teeth from an angry alligator.  Getting the work done without getting bit was perilous at best, and extremely hazardous to my (mental) health at worst.

I began by going over the outline the teacher had given the students,  giving them the requirements for the report,  as well as a rough idea of how to build it.  I pointed out that she had taken mostly all of the appropriate notes, so that put her ahead of the game.  All that really needed to happen was that she put the pertinent information together into clear paragraphs that supported her original point.  The words needed to flow in such a way that they were easily understood without seeming stiff, as little kids tend to write write sentences that are stand alone, and don't really lend themselves to leading to the next sentence or idea.  As I begin to explain narrative voice, her eyes glaze over, followed by a look of absolute panic.

" I am NEVER going to get finished, and even if I do, it's going to SUCK!"

I know I am going to need a way to keep her attention and still make sure she understands what I am telling her, so I grab a notepad and pen from the side of my bed, as well as an autobiography I had recently checked out from the library, but hadn't started reading yet.  I thumb through the book until I find a safe, descriptive paragraph, speaking to, of all things, a musician's songwriting process.  She read the paragraph, thought about it for a few seconds, then wailed that she would NEVER be able to write that well.

I was back at square one, and needed to save the situation before it got any worse.

"So. Tell me a story."

"Huh?  What kind of story?"

"Tell me what happened after the sitter picked you up from school today.  Tell me everything that happened between the time you got picked up, and the time you guys made it back to the daycare."

She gave me a weird look, but began to narrate what she thought were the mundane details of the daily pickup routine, punctuated by one kid messing around with the door handle, being told to stop, then doing it again anyway as soon as the van stopped, then nearly falling out of the van as soon as it got to the daycare.

I verified the details, then I sat and wrote for a few minutes.  I then handed her a paragraph filled with an exciting (I think, anyway) tale of pickups, and dramatic exchanges about homework, and a mischievous little kid and a van door.  She couldn't believe it was the same story.

This, I told her, was the essence of writing: stringing a series of facts and details together so that they were interesting and made sense to whoever was reading them. Write as if you are speaking to someone, just remembering to use your best grammar, and support everything you say with details.  And practice really does make perfect.  The more you write, the more comfortable you get with writing, hopefully the more you learn, and the better you get.

She didn't look completely convinced, but she slunk off to the living room to get back on the computer, and re-write her paragraphs.  She did end up getting a better grade than the project prior to that one, if I recall correctly, so I think it worked, at least a little.  Score one for Mom teaching.

Writing, like reading, is becoming a lost art among my daughter's contemporaries.  She has a few books that she likes, and I bring home books that I think she will like from my own childhood, but times and tastes change, and there are far more misses than hits.  She was fascinated when I finished The Corrections in 10 days, and can't understand for the life of her how I have the patience to turn off the TV and read a 300 page (or longer) book.  I tell her that if I am going to write, I need to read, and that reading calms me when the constant blare of the television gets too frenetic.  But what with the varied and non-stop lure of electronic entertainment, why should a kid pick up something as low-tech as a book?  Maybe because reading for pleasure, not just for assignments, might turn their minds to more intellectual pursuits than gaming, and the thumb typed, shortened messages that pass for writing now.  Also with reading comes a heightened ability to express yourself with more and better words, which can sometimes become a desire to write.  With more people writing, our world becomes larger as people begin to reveal their unique lives to us, painting a picture of the world colored by so many points of view, we may never be able to read them all, but somehow, it's comforting to know that there are so many stories out there, just waiting to be told.

So.  Tell me a story.

My old phone died over the weekend, which meant it was time to get another phone.

This was a tragedy to me, as I can't stand parting with money unless it is absolutely necessary.  I could ignore the fact that I had cracked the face of the phone when I dropped it on pavement.  I put clear tape over the broken glass shards, and made sure not not to swipe the phone near where the broken glass was.  I could get around the fact that the phone had started giving me a weird echo when I spoke on most of my calls, and that sometimes when I answered calls I couldn't hear the caller nor could they hear me.  Simple solution.  I hung up the call and called right back, whereupon I would get the weird echo thingy, hang up a second time, then call again.  Well.  Third times the charm, or so they say.  

What I could not ignore, finally, was that it was taking me longer and longer to get the phone to recognize the charger.  Even when the phone acknowledged the chargers presence, there was no guarantee they were going to play well together.  The phone would simply refuse to charge overnight, and I would wake up to either a dead phone, or ominous warnings that my phone would only be around for a little longer before it cacked.  Seeing as I had kept this phone for a little over two years, I was a bit misty-eyed to see it go.  Not really.  The thought of having to spend money on another phone, and learn a whole new set of quirks, was not terribly appealing.

A technophobe, I am not.  I am a techie by trade, and my day job is computer support, either by phone, remotely or in person.  I embrace new technologies, and my fascination with the newest items on the market are only hampered by my meager budget.  Learning a new phone takes time; time I don't always have.  For the new phone, I was also changing operating systems, from Windows to Android.  Now, geek I am, I already have a Kindle Fire (nerds like to see the world in color!), so the learning curve with the new phone wasn't too bad.  It was just a matter of finding all of the bells and whistles on the new phone.  Well, that and re-finding and downloading all of my apps, of which there were many.

But the money!  Most modern electronics are designed like some older cars.  They were never meant to outlast the payments.  Most phones are meant to be obsolete in one year, and we humble consumers are expected to upgrade every year.  At $100 - $200 a pop. Yeah, right.  Whenever I spend that kind of money, especially if I have to make payments on it,  I will keep it until it begs to be put out of it's misery, or just falls over and dies on it's own.  I amaze every phone store employee that helps me by keeping each phone I've had for well over two years.  The very first time I upgraded from my very first cell phone, the salesman called my phone a dinosaur.  I had that phone for five years before it finally died.  I did the same thing with my very first car.  Repair after repair after hose after belt after brakes.  When both the transmission and engine needed to be replaced, it was finally time to let it go.  

But time and technology march on, and like most people I use my phone as a watch, mobile calendar, camera, and to return texts and emails that might actually be important.  I can now also use it to track the weather, and see if my bus is going to show up on time (they rarely do, but at least now I don't have to guess).  Phones are not just for talking, and haven't been for years.  No matter what function you need, there is now, literally, an app for that.  Even apps for killing time in a waiting room or restaurant.  Which I am guilty of.  With a scotch taped, broken phone that hadn't charged.  So...yeah.  Maybe it was time to get another phone.