The semester has begun, and it's an exciting time for students as they leave their friends, homes, families, and summer pursuits. It's exciting for me too. Who will my students be?  What hopes and dreams are they bringing into the classroom along with their cups of coffee and textbooks? Do they enjoy writing or do they hate it?  What book did they read last? Do they read at all? Have they had positive or negative writing experiences in high school? Or have they been homeschooled? Are they, like me, the first member of their family to attend college? What does that feel like for them? What do they want to write about? Perhaps they've won a writing award of some sort. Perhaps not. Perhaps their words simply comforted a friend.  

A 15-week semester is a learning, growing opportunity for students - and me.  I learn through students' writing what it's like to score the winning goal in a state tournament or how hard - yet necessary - it is to hold a dying grandmother's hand. I do not stand at the lecturn and play know-it-all professor, for I am as much a student of craft as the students I am honored to teach. We learn together, and it is exciting.   

Words are my favorite things. I savor the way they resonate in my mind or linger in the air like a spritz of perfume. My love affair with language blossomed in elemenatry school when the first word I could read was "cat." At the time a lively assortment of eight cats resided in the cow barn on my family's farm, and the connection between a printed word on a flashcard and my life was immediate, and powerful. I was charmed. Reading and writing became my passions. My intent with this blog is to nurture the romance in a new way. Like any relationship, maybe it will work out. Maybe it won't. Meanwhile, thank you for stopping by.  Feel free to add your words to mine.