Monday, April 23, 2012

An Interview With Michael Card




"As a songwriter I can tell you that the greatest moment of encouragement comes not from awards or high numbers on some soon-to-be-forgotten chart but from the singing of a new song for the very first time." 
Michael Card




     While I was packing gear for a week-long hike in the Ozarks, my friend Bill said, "You gotta hear somethin'." He popped a cassette (a clue as to how long ago this was) into his tape player and I was introduced to the music of Michael Card. I knew I was hearing the voice of a kindred spirit. 

     Michael Card has penned dozens of books and articles, more than 31 albums (selling over 4 million copies, with more than 19 #1 hits) and has shared his words and music in conferences and concerts around the world. Last week he shared some of his thoughts with me. 

     Did you write or play an instrument as a child?

     Yes, I did. Growing up in Nashville it was hard to escape. I was in prom bands and bluegrass bands pretty much all thru high school.

     What would you say has influenced your writing the most?

     The desire to engage with the Bible. That is what excites me the most; saying something differently, that draws someone in.

     You have seen the music industry transition from vinyl to digital download. How has time affected the way you perform and record?

     I would say that the only thing that ever changed over time was the configuration we took out on the road. Bigger crowds allow for bigger bands. We had sections, a black gospel choir, an irish band, etc. I still like performing alone the best.

     I have heard several writers discuss the process of the craft. How does a song 'come about' for you?

     That is something I have never been able to easily express. It is difficult, it gets harder with every record. The most I can say is that writing music is like prayer, in that it involves listening. The right notes or words are out there in the ether, it's just a matter of being still enough to hear them.

     When did you realize that writing and performing would provide your livelihood?

     Just out of college I recorded a couple of songs to help a friend who was starting a production company. When they were shopping the songs, trying to get jobs for themselves as producers, one company said, "We will hire you as producers if you'll produce the person on the demos." That is when I thought I might make a living at this.

     What is the most challenging project you have undertaken?

     I would say the lament record was the hardest so far. It is impossible to fake writing a lament. You have to go thru the experience to be able to write about it believably. That was no fun.

     What does the ideal concert setting look like for you?

     Playing for a college crowd, anywhere. They are my favorite age to play for because I believe that in general you become whatever it is you will be in college. I love feeling like I am helping in that process.

     Do you ever sit with friends and play songs together?
     
     Nope!

     Often, your albums will have an accompanying book. Which usually comes first?

     At first the songs came first. Now it's the books, which really works better, since I can do all the research and have it there for the songwriting process. Also, after you have written 200 pages on a given subject, you have pretty well worked thru most of the angles in your mind.

     What advice would you give to a high school student who says ,”I think God is calling me to be a songwriter?"

     First and foremost, allow your community to become a part of the process of determining your call. I can't express that enough. The people in your community know you. They know what your gifts are. They can help you find your calling, you are not supposed to do that by yourself. Next you need to equip yourself with a good education. No matter what the call is, you need to have biblical understanding.



To find out more about Michael Card, including concert schedules, click here.



Tuesday, April 17, 2012

A 3 Word Play and a Story

3 Word Play
     by Katie Metz


A: What was that?


B: I hear nothing.


A: Ouch! My foot!


B: Sorry... too dark?


A: Blindfolds usually are.


B: It's worth it.


A: I hear something.


B: Almost there. What?


A: It sounded like...


B, C, D, E: Surprise! Happy Birthday!




My Story
     by Elizabeth Hemingway

     Hell found me.


     I knew it for sure, this was the devil's lair; because nothing could be worse than this. It was even complete with screaming. Children screaming, only not from pain, but worse, way worse. I was a seventeen year old with her first job of supervising kids playing in a place called fun zone. But its not fun, at least not for the workers. I challenge the devil right now to come up with something worse than getting beaten, taunted, poked, pulled and shoved by little kids for all eternity. Oh okay, my shift is technically four hours long, but still, it feels like an eternity. It was my mom who made me apply for the job in the first place. She said I should "Learn some responsibility" which is basically code for "Earn some money so I don't have to pay for your massive appetite".
     I was putting kids shoes into the cubbies when a little girl in a sparkly pink dress came running up to me.
     "Those are my shoes!" she screamed, pointing at the pair of high healed, (what kid wears high heals?) red, sparkly, wizard of oz style shoes I had been moving into a cubby.
     "Um, okay." I said, handing them to her. She dropped them and made a face.
     "Ewwww you touched them!"
     "So?" I asked, resisting the urge to roll my eyes
     "You have germs!"
     "I do not!"
     "Yes you do! Now I'll have to wash them."
     "Look, kid," I got down on her level. "If you're worried about me touching your shoes, you should know the number of kids that threw up in the slide you just went down. A lot." She looked at me with wide eyes.
     "You're lying!"
     "Nope." she started screaming.
     "MOMMY! GERMS!!!!" And ran around the corner. Uh oh. I better back away slowly-
     "Robyn!" Crap. I turned to see the manager walking toward me wearing her signature you're-in-trouble-and-I'm-disappointed-in-you face.
     "Did you just tell a child that we are unclean?!" I opened my mouth to say it was true, but thought better of it. I just looked at the ground.
     "Tsk tsk. That'll be-"
     "Money off my paycheck?" I asked hopefully. Yes, hopefully, because the alternative was much much worse.
     "No, I think that ball pit duty will be a better disiplinary action for this situation." crap.
     "No! I'll do anything else!" I begged. "I'll even clean the toilets!"
     "Tempting, but you should be with the kids more. It might help you get along with them. So go along, and tell the person there that they can take a break." I walked over to the ball-pit like I was on my way to my own execution. I walked up to the pit.
     "Help! Save me!" Screamed the worker already in there. She was covered with several five year olds who were all holding her down.
     "You can go on break now!" I told her.
     "YES!" she screamed "Back demons! GET BACK!" she fought off the little kids as she crawled out of the pit.
     "Man I feel sorry for you" she said. "Its after lunch, and someone's mom brought twinkies. Sugar high mini demons." she ran off, and I looked at the kids, who were all staring at me.
     "I don't want any trouble," I said as I climbed in. The kids looked at each other.
     "LETS GET HER!" one screamed. Next thing I knew I was facedown in the ball pit begging for mercy from a bunch of preschoolers. I was sure that god was punishing me for some terrible thing I had done when I heard it. The voice of an angel.
     "Alright! Hey! I think she's had enough! Let her go!" And just like that, the kids let me up, and I looked up into the face of my savior. It was a guy my age, and he smiled at me and stuck out his hand.
     "Hey," he said. "Need some help?" I nodded.
     "How did you get them to listen to you?" I asked.
     "Oh," he said. "A little thing called bribery." He pulled a bag of candy from his pocket. I swear all the little kids looked at him like he was god. Maybe he was, sent here to save me from my torment.
All I knew was, maybe this job wouldn't be so bad after all.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

An Interview With Tedd Galloway

"The single greatest lesson that I learned is rather simple: Love is costly. My prayer is that someday the body of Christ will be color-blind, that we will stop talking about loving people and simply demonstrate it."
Tedd Galloway


     Every writer has a unique style and method. This week I had the chance to ask my friend, Tedd Galloway, a few questions about his approach to writing.

     Every writer has a method they tend to follow. What is your routine like?

     I guess I have two methods that I try to use. I have two fiction works that I try to spend time on three or four times per week. With our current living circumstances it is difficult at times. The second method is how most of my short works originate. That process is what I refer to as; Receptive, Ready and Responsive. I will go into a little more detail later. Many of my poetic pieces came as I prepared my heart for worship. Another soul feeding place is when I have the opportunity to sit quietly outdoors. My short piece that is close to my heart was given to me as I listened to, Amy's Lullaby. The Dance of the Innocents, represents one of the first impress given pieces.

     Your book, A Mother's Heart Moved the Hand of God, is a memoir of your time spent in Africa. When you were writing it did you rely on journals, memories or both?

     When I wrote, A Mother's heart Moved the Hand of God, I relied on two very trustworthy sources. I wrote in my journal the events surrounding the actual adoption process involving Ana. The other events and information in the book came from events and impressions pressed so deeply in my mind that their recall was never difficult. When I started the actual writing pages poured forth with little effort.


     At what point did you realize a book would come from your experience?

     I never intended the writing to become a book for the public. In all honesty, I began the writing as a form of therapy. I was in such conflict over the events that transpired that I doubted the very foundation stones of my life, my faith in God. It was later when friends asked about my writing that I allowed some to read it. The comments that came were encouraging and moved me in the direction of a completed manuscript and the final book.

     Have you considered writing something for those considering overseas mission work, perhaps 'Lessons Learned' or 'A Missionaries Survival Guide'?

     I have not considered writing for those anticipating or wanting to place themselves in mission work. It is something that could happen.


     What advice would you give to anyone considering mission work, whether abroad or in their homeland?

     If God has placed mission work upon your soul then you must respond. You know it because it never leaves you alone. Never enter the mission field because it might be exciting or look good on your resume. Also, be prepared to have questions in your heart that do not have easy answers, or for that matter, any answers. Do not attempt to change people, be prepared to have people change you. If the life of Christ is being lived out in you, He will bring about transformation.


     The back cover of your book states- Due to a spinal cord injury he spends his time writing and speaking at various churches'. It seems that art is often born from pain. Had it not been for the injury, do you think you would writing today?

     I might not be writing the materials I am today if not for pain. The initial pain of my spirit and soul brought about my manuscript. My spinal cord injury brought about the need to leave full-time pastoral ministry. My divine charge from God was to communicate the message of the gospel. As my pulpit ministry has diminished it seems my writing ministry is increasing. For me, the knowledge that my writing might be used by God beyond my years and space is very rewarding.

     Your poetry is always a visual experience for me. What sparked your interest in poetry and were any of your teachers influential?

     I am not really sure what sparked my interest in poetry. I think it started with thoughts that seemed to want to be written down. That might sound dumb. Many times, short pieces came rather quickly. My piece on Easter took about ten minutes. I think a few things are very important in how I view my writing. I am receptive. I am open to new ideas, such as poetry. I want my mind and heart to be receptive to words and images. I am ready. When I go anywhere I want to be sure to have a pen and at least a scrap of paper. Many pieces have been composed on the back of a church program, on a bank envelope or receipt. Now I have a tablet in each vehicle. I am responsive. When a word comes into mind, I write it down right away. I have lost a few words and ideas because I didn't write them down right away. Just jotting down the main idea or couple of words is all it takes to implant the thought in my brain. I think I flunked English Comp. All of the rules and hard to pronounce guides didn't make sense to me. When I got serious about writing the manuscript an English Teacher and and Creative Writing instructor gave me a lot of suggestions and guidance. He taught on the college level and helped me far beyond the selection of words.

     Who are your favorite authors?

     My favorite authors are C.S. Lewis. I read his Chronicles of Narnia to the kids growing up. His other writings seem to feed a different part of me. J.R.R. Tolkien is another favorite, as his ability to bring us into his fantasy world is wonderful. Francis Schaffer is another writer who continues to feed a part of me. I don't like to admit this, but I seldom read for pleasure or entertainment anymore. There is a lot I want to do, and much more that doesn't get done.

     What are you currently reading?

     I read my Bible, not everyday, like I should. I am reading some books on writing skills. I just reread works by Swindoll and Schaffer.

     I know you writing will continue to encourage and influence others. What advice would you give to a young person considering writing as a career?

     Write if you are compelled. Have something to say. Know that your words will influence others. I can only speak for me when I say, I write because I am called upon to communicate the gospel of Christ. If I needed to accomplish the communication in another way, I would try.


     Thank you, Tedd.


Tedd Galloway has pastored six churches. After serving three years in Zambia as a missionary, Tedd and his family bought a farm in Michigan. You can follow Tedd's blog at http://aservantsheartministry.blogspot.com/


  

Saturday, March 10, 2012

The Play's the Thing


Hamlet:
I'll have grounds
More relative than this—the play's the thing
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.
Hamlet Act 2, scene 2, 603–605

     In Creative Writing this Quarter, the play is the thing. To date we have watched video clips from Our Town, Waiting For Godot, The Proposal, Antigone and a play co-written by Alli Meyer's brother. We have discussed elements of plays, plots, script elements and stage direction. Most recently, our topic has been props. Here are a few original scripts from students:

Prop Assignment #2
Curtain opens with three chairs on stage.
Setting is to be determined by scriptwriter, but the chairs must be in a specific location (e.g., airplane, bus, subway, etc.).
Enter Character 1, stage left. Sits in one of the chairs.
Character 2 enters stage right, sees Character 1. 

Rachel Levi's Script
Character 2
     Taxi! (Waves frantically)
Character 1
     (Steering over to curb. Character 2 sits in available chair, Character 1 starts to 'drive')
     Where are you headed?
Character 2
     We're headed to the train station.
Character 1
     We?
Character 2
     (Swaps seat and speaks in squeeky voice)
     Yes, me and my husband.
Character 1
     I don't understand Sir.
Character 2
     (Swaps seat and speaks in normal tone) We're going to visit my sick Aunt.
Character 1
     But there's only-
Character 2
     (Swaps seat and speaks in squeeky tone) Hahaha, you're silly. Isn't he, dear? (Swaps seat and speaks in normal tone) Yes. Quite a strange fellow.
Character 1
     (Shakes and head and blinks)
Character 2
     (Swaps seat and voice) Oh, I hope Aunt Petunia is feeling a little better. She sounded dreadful on the phone. (Swaps seat) Oh I'm sure. Anyway, she'll appreciate the company. (Swaps seat) She's such a lonely old woman.
Character 1
     (Clears throat) Are you okay sir?
Character 2
     Oh yes, he's fine. Aren't you dear? (Swaps seat) Quite, but the weather is simply dreadful. (Swaps seat) Oh, I know. New York is horrible this time of year. (To Character 1) Don't you agree?
Character 1
     Eh, yes. Horrible.
Character 2
     (Swaps) That's why I'm grateful to be heading South. Nicer weather. (Swaps and playfully shoves the space on the 'empty' chair) Darling! Don't be grateful for Aunt Petunia's cold. That's horrid. (Swaps and chuckles) I'm only joking, Dear. (Character 1 'pulls over' to curb and rapidly unbuckles seatbelt) Oh look, darling. We're here! (Swaps) What do I owe you Sir?
Character 1
     It's fine, it's fine! (Opens door in a flustered way and slams it, running from the car Stage Right)
Character 2
     (Swaps) Oh my! What happened to him? (Swaps) Eh, at least we don't have to pay. (Swaps) Honey, that's dreadful! Don't you agree Sir Cunningham? (Swaps and sits between seats, changing voice to British accent) Indeed, dreadful. The poor nervous man.

Prop Assignment #3

Write a skit centered around the prop given you. Your skit may include as many characters as you wish but each character must touch and comment on the prop.

Menelik Cannady's Script
Prop- Shipping Crate


Big Benny: Yo Dennis! How’d the trip go ta LA last week?

Dennis: Was the best trip ever man! I had like no delays nor traffic jams. I don’t know what happened but everyone must’ve been chillin’ at home.

Big Benny: Ugh, I can’t wait for that big job that Boss told us about the other day. It’s gonna be awesome.

(Suddenly Mack pulls up)

Dennis: Oh snap! It’s Mack!

(Mack gets out of his truck)

Mack: Well, well, well if it ain’t mah boys Big Benny and Dennis. Last time I saw y’all was that job up the Alaskan roads.

Dennis: Was the scariest job ever!

Mack: Well, I got word from Boss that y’all are supposed to take an assignment tomorrow.

Dennis: Who’s drivin’?

Mack: Both of you.

Big Benny: How the?

Dennis: At the same time?!

Mack: Uh-huh

Dennis: That’s impossible, we can’t drive the same truck at the same time!

Mack: Oh really? If you want proof, follow me.

(Big Benny and Dennis follow Mack into a giant truck storage room. It is pitch black when they get in. Mack flips on the lights and the King of Trucks is revealed: The Tyson Mega-Hauler Dual Lane Truck)

Big Benny: Holy!

Dennis: That’s crazy!

Mack: She’s a strong one. But it takes a lot of skill to drive her. She’s got a Turbocharged 1,000hp Mack HH engine in the front, and a 700hp Corvette engine in the back where the backdriver sits.

Dennis: This is gonna be awesome

Mack: Better get some shuteye for tomorrow, for tomorrow’s the Big Day.

Dennis: (Yawns) Yeah, it’s gonna be a long trip.

(Dennis, Big Benny and Mack get to bed. They wake at 3am along with some others. They meet Boss in the meeting room and Boss describes the trip)

Boss: Alright truckers, we got a big one today. (Flips on the projector) We have a huge shipping crate that has arrived here and it must be delivered to the harbor. This crate contains important supplies that the people over in Africa need. In this crate, is the materials the people need in Africa to build a school. We must get it to the harbor before 5pm. Ready, let’s move!

(Everyone gets into their vehicles. Big Benny, Dennis and Mack head over to the storage place where the dual-lane truck awaits them. They slowly get the truck out of the room and a crane places the crate on the uber-long flatbed.)

Big Benny: (Breathes deeply) Well, here we go.

Mack: Take her slow. We must not let the flatbed hit anything.

(Two long hours go by)

Big Benny: (To Mack) You know, I glad that I became a trucker.

Mack: Why?

Big Benny: It’s because you get to be exposed to many things. Look how much we travel. It’s like we go on vacation trips every day. We don’t travel the same routes everyday. We change it up all the time. Because, it’s not just about going and delivering packages, it’s about the joy of traveling, getting to see the beauty of nature that a perfect God created. This experience has taught me that being sheltered is not good for you.

Mack: I agree, I personally was a sheltered young boy. I was shy and could not get along with my friends. But now, I can get along with just about anyone.

(Suddenly the radio goes off)

Mack: Look’s like we’re gonna have to reroute.

(They reroute but they still arrive at the harbor at time. The crate is successfully delivered to Africa and in a matter of months, the first real school is built in Africa. As for Big Benny, Dennis, Mack and the others, they continue to serve and do their duties and do what God has called them to do)  


The Package
A Prop Assignment

     Props
     A package, wrapped in brown paper, shoe-box size
     Cell phone
     Newspaper
     Bench

Scene opens with Character 1 seated on bench, reading newspaper. Character 2 enters, stage left, talking on cell phone. Character 2 is carrying a package, sits on bench and places package between he and Character 1.

Megan Bennett's Script

#2- No,no... Well, yeah. (#1 looks at package) Oh... No... Sure. (#1 looks annoyed) Yes! I've got it... Sorry... No... (#1 sticks face further into paper) What!? That's not fair! No... Okay... (#1 looks over top of paper and rolls eyes) I didn't mean... It's just... Okay... (#1 looks at package) If you say so... nah... (#1 gasps, noticing that the package is 'breathing').

#1- Uh... the package is breathing.

#2- Whatever do you mean?

#1- Don't play dumb! What's in it?

#2- That's not for you to know.

#1- So, it's something bad?

#2- Never said that.

#1- I'll call the police!

#2- Well, uh... bye! (runs off stage)

#1- Weirdo. (Notices package is still on bench)

Jack Radford's Script

Character Two
O.K., well I just got the package. What? Why can't I open it... exactly? O.K. What's inside it? A what?!? Why the heck is THAT in there? Why am I given this? I have to do what? (Character One looks uneasy) I don't want to do that! O.K. O.K. (glances at Character One) I still don't want to do that. Bad things could happen. But things might mess up! Then the plan would be ruined. (Character One looks from side-to- side) You should have found someone else. Why? Because I will most likely get caught! I won't be able to set it up without being noticed. I keep telling you that I am not sneaky. I will get caught and you know it. (Character One coughs suspiciously) I am sending this back. (Character One sighs) Because I will be seen setting it up. I can't afford that. No. I'm sending it back and that's final! (Character Two exits Stage Left, carrying package)

Character One
(Pulls phone from pocket and dials number) He just left. Yes, he still has the package.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Six Impossible Things

"I can't believe THAT!" said Alice
"Can't you?" the Queen said in a pitying tone. "Try again: draw a long breath, and shut your eyes."
Alice laughed. "There's no use trying," she said: "one CAN'T believe impossible things."
"I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was your age I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."
Through the Looking Glass
Chapter 5
Lewis Carroll




'Impossible things' was the topic of a recent writing assignment. Students were asked to list six impossible things, choose one, and explain why it is impossible. Here are a few 'impossible things'-
                   - change the weather
                   - perfection
                   - swim the Pacific Ocean
                   - one person with two bodies/ one soul with two halves
                   - to shoot 18 on an 18-hole course
                   - grow wings


Trinity student, Zach Cassady, on 'impossible things':


     The impossible is only what we have not yet imagined. Throughout history, people have been changing the way others see the world. Thomas Edison, the Wright Brothers, Neil Armstrong all share something- they did things that seemed, at one point, impossible. There is almost no limit to what we can do. The impossible is only impossible if we are unwilling to try. There will always be people who fear change but there are also those who rise above. They reap the reward for their trouble. The things that seem impossible now may be waiting for you... right around the corner.


Another assignment asked students to imagine themselves as paper money. Here is Elizabeth Hemingway's piece:


     When I was just a blank, waiting to be printed, I was hopeful. I didn't know what I was going to be. Maybe, I dreamed, I would be lucky enough to be a fifty, a twenty or even a hundred! Imagine, me in a position of high value. I would have even been okay as a common one. At least I would have alot of friends. When it came my turn to be printed, I said goodbye to my blank buddies and started down the path. I went through the printer with my eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. When I stopped I slowly opened my eyes and looked down. Disappointment washed over me as I saw my value. I was a two. Who uses two dollar bills? After leaving the press, I first came into the hands of Wealth E. Mann. He was kind enough, and he was interested in me. I spent many years in his collection, where I made friends. Unfortunately, he passed away a few years ago. His family sold the collection. I was spent a few times after that. Always, I looked with longing at the things I could not buy. A snack from a vending machine, for example. I wonder what it would be like to travel through a vending machine? But that's beside the point. I ended up here, in the back of a bank vault. Someone traded me in for two ones. Rejection. I only hope someone spends me.

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Back to Basics

     A wonderful thing happened Thursday- I could not connect my laptop to the internet. And so, my students followed the ancient tradition of taking a quiz from the chalkboard. It was great.


     In a blog post, dated February 2010, Heather Sellers said,


"I don’t want my students—who spend most of the rest of their time in the electrified digital world—to lose touch with something elemental, sacred, mysterious, and increasingly rare: the pencil paper world."
     To read the article, click here.


This week we continued our discussion on Point of View. After reading The Tell-tale Heart (click here to read the story) by Edgar Allan Poe, students were asked to write a version from the Uncle's perspective. Here are a few gems-



The Tell-Tale Heart
     from the Uncle's perspective
by Menelik Cannady

     Why? Why does he look at me this way? Does he treat me thus because of my eye. Only one, it is only one part of my body. It is unfair. It is unkind. He’s my nephew, my only nephew. It is as if he wants to kill me. Is he possessed?

     I am tense. He looks at me like an assassin. He threatens me with a knife and I cower in fear. That little scoundrel. If he ever lays a blade on me, he’ll end up in the jail, locked up forever. He intimidates me with his stare. He’s my nephew. I can take this no longer.

The Tell-Tale Heart
     from the Uncle's perspective
by William May

     I see my nephew every day and I see there is something wrong. He has been looking on edge lately, acting weird, uptight. I think it is my wretched eye. Everyone looks at me. I don't like it. He is making me uneasy.

     I hope he doesn't do anything drastic.

The Tell-Tale Heart
     from the Uncle's perspective
by Jack Radford

     I always thought my nephew was nice. He was always nice to me. He is a respectful, young man, better than others. There is one thing that worries me. I have seen the way he looks at me. He gives me an angry stare that makes me feel uneasy. I think he has come into my room when I am sleeping. It is too dark for me to see but I hear him, walking about. I pretend to sleep, so I can hear. He may be mad.  

Next, students were asked to write a narrative, using the perspective of a one dollar bill.

My Life
     as a Dollar
by Mitchell Warnkin

     A vague glimmer inhabits my mind. Cold, granite walls, bright lights from the sky-high ceiling. The sound of machinery, feverishly working, drowns the noise of the workers, touching me from station-to-station, smelling of fresh paper and heat.
     I am placed in a truck, dark and cold. The next stop is a bank. There I am happiest, in a drawer with my brothers and sisters from sunrise to sunset. The talking of people interests me; it gives a sense of meaning. It is dark and there is the smell of perfume.
     To my surprise, one day I am placed in a wallet. Warm and moving, I am squashed into someone's butt! So, from register to register I am transferred, with wallets and pockets between, crumpled and torn.
My memories are vast as I am back with the granite walls and sky-high ceiling. Intense heat surrounds me as I slowly burn, my evergreen complexion turning black. I have no regrets, no remorse. I am ready to embrace an afterlife fit for a healer.

My Life
     as a Dollar
by Justin Lemmon

     Man, it feels good to finally be in a wallet. I've dreamed of this day. My buddies have told me that the humans are trying to replace us with pieces of plastic. Yuck! Plastic doesn't mean as much. My dream is to be used to buy a puppy. Whew, Andrew, you smell! Were you spent on a septic-tank cleaning? Uh-oh, what's going on? I'm buying a soda. Now I'm stuck in a rusty drawer. Hmph! Watch what you grab, buddy! Finally, a warm wallet. No! Not the bank!!! Not the bank! If I had legs I'd run away! Nooo!


My Life
     as a Dollar
by Sara Cazorla

     I smell cigarettes. It is stinky. I am always in a dark place, every day. I hear the yelling of people, at the office. I have been spent. Alot. Stores like Target and Marshall's. Mrs. Flowers is spending me now. She is mean. She smells terrible. I have taken naps in the dark place.


     I love to be spent, to be spent on cupcakes and Chinese food. I have had a nice life as a green piece of paper. But Mrs. Flowers was mean. One day I was taken to a place where they shred. I was scared. But then...

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