Wednesday’s class began by reviewing the previous day. After Stephanie’s scribe report (featuring a mesmerizing performance by a stellar young actor), we received an update from the Royal Baby Trackers, Laura and Rachel, featuring such memorable lines as “Oh, it’s just the commoner’s parents” and “I could’ve been American, but I’m British.” From there we launched into the meat of the class.
In the sleepy shire of Guildford, under the tutelage of Ruie, the class worked on their writing. Acrostic poems, inspired by our travels, were carefully crafted by the class. Dripping with inspiration, students shared their verses, transporting their peers to lands both known and unknown. Brimming with confidence, the class turned our attention to sentence patterns, and hungering for more knowledge, soaked up the droplets of wisdom rained down upon us from our teacher. After learning about ways to vary our writing, artistic arsenal now fully stocked, we confronted Day in the Life poems. The Thomas Hardy pattern, needlessly convoluted, will not appear in this paragraph.
In the sleepy shire of Guildford, under the tutelage of Ruie, the class worked on their writing. Acrostic poems, inspired by our travels, were carefully crafted by the class. Dripping with inspiration, students shared their verses, transporting their peers to lands both known and unknown. Brimming with confidence, the class turned our attention to sentence patterns, and hungering for more knowledge, soaked up the droplets of wisdom rained down upon us from our teacher. After learning about ways to vary our writing, artistic arsenal now fully stocked, we confronted Day in the Life poems. The Thomas Hardy pattern, needlessly convoluted, will not appear in this paragraph.
At this point, the midday heat wafting in, we traveled our separate ways to work on our various projects.