Who was your first writing mentor?

[Judy Jester]

My oldest brother Bob was the coolest big brother ever. When he told us younger kids classic bedtime stories like Goldilocks, he incorporated us, our friends, even our cousins into the plotlines. He created his own version of the Sears Wishbook for a sadistic character he created named Dr. Ipps. The cat-o-nine-tails that was featured included a product code for ease of ordering. He wrote and filmed weekly horror movies starring my other brother, sister and me, and then showed them to the neighborhood kids. All of this by the age of twelve. He is still the one I try to impress. How about you?

[Jason Lilly]

My first writing mentor was my fourth grade teacher, Mr. Copley. My mother has a pic of the two of us, so maybe I can scan and post it later. I was suffering ridicule from a little girl (who we called Amy "Kisses-a-Sock") because I had written a short story about two of my He-Man action figures coming to life and killing somebody. Mr. Copley read it, smiled, and said, "Very creative, Jason." This, of course, gave me permission to stick my big ol' tongue out at Amy. He never discouraged any idea that came our way (unless inappropriate) and always pushed us to finish our stories to the end.

[Vicki Steinberg]

My grandmother, who escaped 'the old country' one step ahead of the pogroms, wouldn't tell stories about her past, saying "Better you don't know." Her children, my mother/aunts/uncles, told stories of their own childhoods in Wilkes-Barre, PA, as well as stories of the childhoods of my sister and me. Whenever I ask students to write about their pasts, I picture my relatives and smile to myself.

[Vicki Spandel]

I have had many mentors, and it's hard to pick one--but I think the first had to be my mother. Back in the day, you couldn't do hotel reservations on Internet. We had to write for a room! Imagine. (Sounds like a movie with Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell--people most of you don't know.) Anyhow, she would always say, "You write the letter. You write so much better than I do." This was pretty ridiculous since I was only 8 or 9. But she turned all "trip planning" over to me, and I totally bought in to my own competence with business letters. It never occurred to me that she was just too busy--or that she just wanted to create an interesting experience for me. To her credit, she actually mailed the letters--and somehow, we always got rooms! It was a humble start, but hey--I started cutting her hair pretty much the same way, but that is definitely another story . . . (Needless to say, Mom was a real good sport.)

[Julie Koontz]

Mentors...they can be all shapes and sizes. Mine include my mom, husband, kids, even a professor or two. My first was my mom. She has more tenacity than anyone I know. She has always shown me that no matter what, you don't quit. Her parents came to America from Hungary, met, got married and made a life for themselves and their kids. They didn't have much so my grandma made her children's clothes. My mom was terribly bullied by girls who had store-bought clothes, but she didn't let that stop her from going to school to get an education. That was extremely important to her and she made it extremely important to me and my two sisters. I didn't finish college in the "normal" four years so when I had to put my education on the back burner, she was always there to remind me that I should finish and get my degree. It took 16 years, one husband, four kids, and three universities but I got my BS. I think she was even more excited than I was when I finally made the walk to get my diploma. Now, it's my turn. If I'm half as successful as she was, then that's saying something. :)

[Judy Jester]

I'm so glad people keep responding to this query and how nice that most of us name a family member as mentor. Of course, I had teachers who encouraged me too. Stephen Biglin and Dennis Naso at Hiawatha Elementary School sparked my early interest in writing and cheered for me when I won a county-wide short story contest. Roseanne Reulbach at Sachem High School fostered my love of persuasive writing and honed my journalism skills. Sr. Loretta and Jim Mooney at Immaculata College pushed my thinking and my abilities beyond where I thought they could go.

For this and so much more, I am forever in their debt.

[Megan Murray]

This doesn't seem like the best place for this comment, but I'm not sure where else to put it, and I knew, Mr. Lane, that you would appreciate it!

In Kentucky, 4th graders are required to write for a writing portfolio (up until a month or so ago, when the legislature decided to up-end the writing portfolio requirments -eefectively decimating the current model, but that's a message for another time!). Any way, one of the required pieces for the portfolio is a reflective letter. I save that piece until the very end so that we can properly reflect on EVERYTHING we've done and learned and read that has helped us become better writers. Today, I was brainstorming with a small group, asking them to think about lessons, books, movies, life experiences, people that have helped them become better writers.

One of my kids said to me, "Miss Murray, who's that dude whose movies you show us all the time on Youtube?"

Well, it just so happens that I used all of the Hooked On Meaning video snippets you loaded on Youtube for mini-lessons, and my kids know I've gone to "learn from Mr. Lane."

So, I replied, "Do you mean Mr. Lane?"

"YES!" He sighed. "Mr. Lane! He's helped me be a better writer too!"

There you have it! You're a mentor for some of my 4th graders! :)

Happy Tuesday!

[Barry Lane]

Thanks Megan. I am deeply touched.

It is the greatest gift to be able to be of service to children. I can't think of anything else more important and rewarding.

barry




Megan Murray said:

This doesn't seem like the best place for this comment, but I'm not sure where else to put it, and I knew, Mr. Lane, that you would appreciate it!

In Kentucky, 4th graders are required to write for a writing portfolio (up until a month or so ago, when the legislature decided to up-end the writing portfolio requirments -eefectively decimating the current model, but that's a message for another time!). Any way, one of the required pieces for the portfolio is a reflective letter. I save that piece until the very end so that we can properly reflect on EVERYTHING we've done and learned and read that has helped us become better writers. Today, I was brainstorming with a small group, asking them to think about lessons, books, movies, life experiences, people that have helped them become better writers.

One of my kids said to me, "Miss Murray, who's that dude whose movies you show us all the time on Youtube?"

Well, it just so happens that I used all of the Hooked On Meaning video snippets you loaded on Youtube for mini-lessons, and my kids know I've gone to "learn from Mr. Lane."

So, I replied, "Do you mean Mr. Lane?"

"YES!" He sighed. "Mr. Lane! He's helped me be a better writer too!"

There you have it! You're a mentor for some of my 4th graders! :)

Happy Tuesday!

[Corbett Harrison]

Mr. Borilla was my fourth and fifth grade teacher. My oldest brother had had him too, but Andy (my middle brother) had missed out. I was the third and final Harrison to go through Bullard Elementary, and every teacher I had I seemed to share with at least one of my older brothers. Early on, every one of my teachers compared me to one of my brothers because they teachers were already familiar with the crazy and outgoing Harrisons persona.

"Your brother was so good at math, Corbett. I know you can be too." I don't remember which of my elementary teachers said that, but it still reminds me of how life was at my school.

Mr. Borilla found me to be unique though. He read my crazy creative writing ramblings aloud to class. The class always laughed. Several times, Mr. Borilla laughed so hard that his cheeks became stained with tears. None of my brothers had ever made one of their teachers cry! I acheived something with that, and from it I found the love of writing.

My brothers don't write like I do. They do a little, but Mr. Borilla gave me something special that they missed out on at Bullard Elementary in Fresno, California. Mr. Borilla gave me the voice that I still carry with me today.

Inspired by Barry's stories of his fourth grade teacher (Miss Foley, who wrote grants for guitars), I set up a blog a year ago called the "Mr. Borilla Project," and teachers can share memories of their most inspirational teachers. I just finished teaching my last inservice class of this school year--a class on narrative--and all of my participants shared great stories. (http://borilla.edublogs.org/)

Here is a picture of Mr. Borilla:

[Barry Lane]

I LOVE THIS, Corbett. I can see Mr. Borilla laughing at your story and what that did for you. How simple, just a human reaction . I wonder how those pieces you wrote would have scored on the state writing rubric.... I also know that the best assessments are the ones students like you make when they see the tears running down their teachers face.

Corbett Harrison said:

Mr. Borilla was my fourth and fifth grade teacher. My oldest brother had had him too, but Andy (my middle brother) had missed out. I was the third and final Harrison to go through Bullard Elementary, and every teacher I had I seemed to share with at least one of my older brothers. Early on, every one of my teachers compared me to one of my brothers because they teachers were already familiar with the crazy and outgoing Harrisons persona.

"Your brother was so good at math, Corbett. I know you can be too." I don't remember which of my elementary teachers said that, but it still reminds me of how life was at my school.

Mr. Borilla found me to be unique though. He read my crazy creative writing ramblings aloud to class. The class always laughed. Several times, Mr. Borilla laughed so hard that his cheeks became stained with tears. None of my brothers had ever made one of their teachers cry! I acheived something with that, and from it I found the love of writing.

My brothers don't write like I do. They do a little, but Mr. Borilla gave me something special that they missed out on at Bullard Elementary in Fresno, California. Mr. Borilla gave me the voice that I still carry with me today.

Inspired by Barry's stories of his fourth grade teacher (Miss Foley, who wrote grants for guitars), I set up a blog a year ago called the "Mr. Borilla Project," and teachers can share memories of their most inspirational teachers. I just finished teaching my last inservice class of this school year--a class on narrative--and all of my participants shared great stories. (http://borilla.edublogs.org/)

Here is a picture of Mr. Borilla:

[Elaine Hunyadi]

My first writing mentor was Laurie Kellogg, or maybe her dad, childrens' author/illustrator Steven Kellogg. Laurie babysat for me, my brother and sister during the summers while my mom worked as a nurse. When she came to our house she brought her sunny disposition as well as many of her dad's books and the books of his friends. Together, Laurie, my brother, my sister and I spent lazy mornings exploring the woods behind our house, sometimes even picking the delicate, silky pink lady slippers that grew abundantly there. After our standard lunch of tuna fish sandwiches stuffed with pickles, Laurie would gather us in the living room and read aloud. At the age of four, I was hooked. Sometimes Laurie would leave the books behind and I could take them into the privacy of my own room to pore over them again and again. Even though I couldn't read, I'd look at the pictures and be making up my own stories in my head. I waited eagerly for the next batch of books to arrive. And when we drove her home at then end of the day and we saw her dad painting the house I began thinking in my own head. That man wrote and drew those funny stories He's writer. Real people write real stories for real people! Wow!

Barry Lane said:

Love that picture of Bob, Judy.

In some ways my first writing mentor was my older brother Michael. He was not cool, in fact he was often picked on by kids in the neighbor hood because he thought he was Superman. He was obsessed with this idea that he could fly. He didn't do pretend. His fantasy life was so bullet proof I think he inspired in me a belief that I could be anything too. I was the younger, cute baby brother . I guess you could call me Krytonite because my brother was jealous of the attention I garnered. He felt it weakened him. I didn't feel the same way about him. I looked up to him and I could occasionally enter his fantasy life. He would let me be his sidekick as long as I didn't fly too close.

Later in our childhood we would lie in bed on hot summer nights. We would do, what we called, late night talk shows. We would talk about EVERYTHING but especially the idea that there were millions of stars and that those stars had planets circling them and that one of those planets was like our own and there were two alien kids laying in bed having their own alien late night talk show.
My inner imaginative writer life was not born on paper, but lying on my bed on those hot summer nights as the crickets chirp, chirp, chirped and the fireflys flickered in the blackness.


.

[Megan Murray]

As corny as it sounds, my mother was my first writing mentor. She says that from a very, very small child (2 years old, maybe?), I always had a pencil/pen and paper in my hands! If you believe in the power of spoken prophecy, then perhaps my mother spoke prophecy into my life when she uttered these words, "THIS CHILD WILL BE A WRITER."

I still have one of the first published pieces I ever wrote entitled JANUARY HAIR MICE, circa 2nd grade. I will, hopefully, attach it to this blurb. My mother dug it out of a file of stuff she'd saved from my childhood. A real hoot!

Anyway, she encouraged my writing in whatever form it took. One of the best Christmas gifts that I ever rec'd from Santa was a Tom Thumb typewriter! It was red and absolutely amazing. Yes, I'm dating myself a bit, but along with the type writer, I remember getting real, official typing paper and one of those fancy typewriter erasers with brush (you know the ones that were wheel-shaped? I thought I'd died and gone to heaven!). I typed more stuff on that typewriter ... wore the poor thing out!

She is still my biggest cheerleader today!