Mr. Steinbeck...

Dear Mr. Steinbeck,

I just finished reading your book the Red Pony. I love how you explain everything, I have never read a book who's author explained his characters by their eyes. "It's tense ears were forward and a light of disobedience was in its eyes." In the first five words of that sentence I knew exactly how that horse felt, he was scared and almost wild he was... Uncomfortable and unfamiliar with everybody but when he saw Jody's soft eyes he knew he was different.

"It's coat was rough and thick as an Airedale's fur and it's mane was long and tangled. Jody's throat collapsed on its self and it his breath short." I love that sentence so much!

It is kind of funny I saw a pattern in the book at the beginning Jody was like any other kid he was skipping school, pretending to shoot things with his 22., then he got his first pony and he was actually responsible. He did his chores and took care of his horse, and of course his pony had to die and he was back to decapitating birds and not coming home until after dark. Then Jody figured out that Nellie was pregnant with a colt and he worked his butt of for nothing. But this time I think the pony left and he still had a little adult in him.

Sincerely, Logan

My Best To Steinbeck

Dear Mr. Steinbeck,

My writing teacher, Carolyn, helped me notice some amazing characteristics that make great writers. You are one of these great writers that our writers group got to know through your book The Red Pony.

You write in a way that makes little things impactful on me. For instance, "His mouth worked strenuously," and "Doubletree Mutt watched them [Jody and Billy Buck] over his shoulder; then he dug furiously, growled, sounded little sharp yelps to indicate that the gopher was practically caught."

At times, you take Jody off on a little adventure of his own. It could be three pages, or it could be a paragraph. And it always gives me inspiration on ideas for my own writing. When Jody went hunting with his lunch pail after school made me want to write about small adventures of animals.

The characters that you develop within your book are easy to get to know since you describe their actions and feelings so well. Carl Tiflin was the easiest for me to understand quickly because of his stern, unsympathetic comments: "You come with us after breakfast!" and "A horse isn't any lap-dog kind of thing," and "I'm having a hard enough time keeping this ranch out of the back of Italy without taking on anybody else to feed."

Thank you, Mr. Steinbeck, for writing The Red Pony.

Jacob

My Letter to Mr. John Steinbeck

Dear Mr. Steinbeck,

In my copy of your book, The Red Pony, there is my scribbling handwriting all through the margins; covering the page numbers; words of mine, falling off the page; gobbling up every ounce of blank paper they could find.

Your words and my words intertwine on the pages of your book.

You led me past the plot of your book to one of life’s greatest themes: the intertwining of life and death. Almost everything in your book reflects that theme and almost everything in life is that theme.

Because of your book, I have become more aware of the life-and-death situations in my life: those that have happened, are happening, and probably will happen in the future.

When I think about life and death, I picture some of the people I know who have died—doing something so lively. I think about Maison, who died snowboarding. And JK who died crossing the street after covering an exciting football game for Channel 2. And Mr. Bell, my friend’s grandfather who died after eating lunch with his wife and his granddaughter. And Rebecca Rose who died during childbirth.

It is ironic, but it is the way the world works. It is the truth.

And you, Mr. Steinbeck, you are not afraid to tell the truth.

From you, I know that life and death are intertwined. They come together in the past, in the present, and I know they will in the future. But for now, those future events are things that I do not like to think about. Instead, I will have fun with life like Jody when he marches along with his imaginary army. 

Thank you, Mr. Steinbeck for writing this book.

Sincerely,

Eleanore   

Howdy Pardners!

Yeah, it's a LOT cheesy, but we spent a chunk of our day flaunting our cowboy/cowgirl accents.

First, of course, we poured ideas into each other's writing. 

You are getting SO good at responding to writing! 

 Jacob and Cody, you were especially good at "line editing." 

Logan and Eleanore, you're good at responding to content.

Ellie, you're good at responding to style.

Together we make a very good writer's group!

Enter the cowboys and cowgirls. In honor of The Red Pony, I printed some popular sayings in the cowhand world...including one from our own Billy Buck. You read yours aloud, UNAWARE that these were from the mouths of rustic men and women with particular ACCENTS. I just said, "know what the saying means and apply an accent." I think it's exciting to read someone's writing and IMAGINE what accent belongs to the words!

"No one ever drowned in his own sweat."

We talked about what makes us sweat...what kind of hard work we do, mentally or physically. We hip-hop, swim, grapple, train for comps, keep our rooms clean, please our parents, and more. Cody said, "I WANT to work hard when I want something. I beat myself up on the tramp until I got it! And hiking the Palisades, too!" Aren't we lucky our sweat comes from such luxurious endeavors?

"Whoever said a horse was dumb...was dumb." Never underestimate the smarts of animals! Sometimes they can be wiser than we humans are!

"Speak your mind but ride a fast horse." Ooooh, we sure value honesty, don't we? But, if you're saying something you KNOW someone isnt' going to like, well, get on that horse and ride! :)

"No matter how good a man is, 

there's always some horse can pitch him."

(you read it right: no "that." Billy Buck)

This one evoked some really good conversation about our vulnerabilities and weaknesses. What "gets" us, pitches us, eats away at us. 

Cody: no snow gets him; and landing a trick wrong!

Eleanore: older girls in her age group who swim FAST!

Ellie: missing Tae Kwon-do; 

it ruffles her thinking about not having it.

Jacob: When something he looks forward to doesn't materialize.

Logan: being called names and not eating enough protein! 

"Never miss a good chance to shut up" Ahhh, yes, the power of silence. The importance of listening. What's wiser, we asked, listening or talking? Unanimous: listening. But we often miss the chance to be quiet, don't we? :)

Then I cleared the table and set a few boots on that table...not just cowgirl/cowboy boots, but all kinds of boots. I told you to pick a boot and write something.

I challenged you to channel Ellie's amazing ability to start in the middle of a tense moment. 

"Oh no. No. Nooooooo! Here comes master. Run for your life! Darn it! I forgot I can't run unless master's foot is in me and she chooses to run. Humpf! Yes! It must be my lucky day! She chose Grifina! Mwaaa ha ha ha!" Jacob

"Hey, Tocoa! Where you goin'? You just stole that pair a boots! We have hats, too! Hey, come back here! You owe me money. You're wanted, you know. One thousand dollars for arrest now." Cody

"Worn down leather, smelly, powerful sweat. Worn down rubber, scraped wood. Ziiiiiiiip! Clop, clop, creeeeak. Crunch, crunch, crunch........vrooooooooom, vroooooooom, screeeeeeech! Crunch, crunch, crunch, clop, clop, clop. Ziiiiiip." Logan

"Her name is Mia. She is short for her kind but has a big soul. Her soul is all stitched up, though. Solid. Closed. Blocked away. She can't let it go. She can't let it free. It is stitched up to her leather body, trapped forever until she is all worn out and starts to fall apart." Eleanore (SAD AGAIN!!!!)

(the actual name of the kind of shoe is Mia)

"'Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr this floorrrr is so so colddddd!,' I said to the Eleanore kinda boot directly to my left. Why does Miriam have to ppputtt me on the stone cold entry way? Why can't she bring us to her bedroom where she keeps all her heels, flats and 'pretty shoes? She setttts us boots and work shoes here on the stone cccold floor!' The Eleanore kinda boot zipper opened chatteringly and said -- "

Ellie

Good job, guys! 

Our last day is next Friday. 

We'll circle back to The Red Pony by discussing what you WILL write this week and by watching "The Red Pony." The movie!

This week:

Please flip through your book, The Red Pony. 

Even re-read some passages. 

Notice and digest what you underlined and let yourself be moved by what you might NOT have written about before. 

Look through the blog and find what we talked about way back then. 

MOST IMPORTANTLY: 

Please write something meaningful and thoughtful about your experience with The Red Pony. One way to do that is to write to John Steinbeck. Tell him what you remember most; what you admire about a character; what you loved about reading the book; what you wish happened; etc. Honor him by being as detailed as you can be. This doesn't have to be long, just sincere and colorful!

Please post this letter (or however you choose to write) on the blog and if you cannot post it, email it to me and I'll send it to everyone!

Reminder: It is FAR more satisfying to watch a movie coming fresh off the book version! You have much more to think about and compare! 

Thanks!

Carolyn

A Day In The Life Of A Dung Beetle

One day a dung beetle named Bob was scrambling up the for his morning breakfast. He was especially hungry this morning because the call had gone out that there was a fresh batch of ox dung that the night watch had harvested.

So Bob skittered up the hill as fast as his little legs could carry him. After stumbling over many rocks, he finally reached the top where all the dung beetles were gathered for the feast. He scuttled up to the line.

Captain Rust called for attention. Then he lifted one of this tiny antennae, starting the feast! Bob and his friends *swarmed the ox dung like the first wave of a wave pool*. It was complete chaos.

I'll continue it, but I just don't want to say, "to be continued..." Well, I just said it, so there.

Jacob

*I need help with this part!

4 more tips

1. Change up the venue. If you've been practicing in the same old dark room ever since you were four, change it up! Pick up your your music stand and move it somewhere else. Anywhere. Practice in the kitchen while your mom is making breakfast; in the office; in the living room; even outside. Once I played in Hawaii on the beach at dusk. Sometimes it can feel embarrassing but just picture yourself being the best violinist in the entire world and be confident with the notes you play.

2. Play while standing on your bed. Now, my bed is the top bunk. It puts me high off the ground, which can be a little creepy. But balancing on your mattress at any height while moving your arms to finger and bow makes you a more athletic violinist. I love to see passion and strength and powerful movement in a lot of things: skiing, swimming, soccer, and a violinist's bowing arm.

3. Play a song backwards. It is kind of an exercise for sight reading only it's a song that you know!  

4. Play in front of a dog or a two-year-old (same thing). For one,  you want to try to keep their attention, which is really hard. You want everyone who watches you play to feel attentive and intrigued. Two, dogs and two-year-olds are naturally loud and rambunctious, so it's a good way to practice concentration and avoid being distracted. The minute I took my violin out of its case for my 2-year-old cousin Eli, he yelled, "AWESOME" my entire practice. I gave him my heavy mute to distract him. The next morning I found it under my pillow.


Those are a few that I thought of this week.
LZ

Gollum (again)

I wonder what Dad is doing. I wonder what time it is in London. He is probably just waking up. I look down at Cody lying in his racecar bed snuggling his favorite Tigger blanket that Grandma . . . Sscccrrraaatttcccchhhh! What was that? A big, black gargoyle is scraping at my window! I hear a slow tap… tap… tap... on the ceiling. Tap, tap, tap. It’s getting faster! I wince every time the rain hits the roof. My jaw clenches, my elbows and knees tighten, and I force my eyes shut to drown out the sirens racing down Mt. Rose Street.

My mouth is thick with saliva and it is hard to swallow. Of all the times to be thirsty! I have to get some water or I will not be able to sleep, but I don’t know if I have the guts. If I jump off my bed Gollum will grab me by the ankles and drag me under. I don’t want to die before my kindergarten Halloween party. Oh, thanks to mom my batman costume is laid out on the couch next to the closet!

Clenching my soft Winnie the Pooh blanket and grabbing a bouncy ball for protection I leap out of bed, soccer slide to my knees and with all my strength I chuck the ball under the bed and sprint for my batman costume, grabbing only my mask and cape. Charging out of the room, I run down the hallway and hop over the creaky spot. I race up the stairs and bust open the door to Mom’s room . . . Finally I’m safe!

I climb under the covers and snuggle next to Mom. Did Gollum get Cody?

Mom? Mom? Cody… he isn’t feeling well and he wants you to bring him up here.

She groans, throws off her covers, and lazily walks downstairs. My throat is still dry. I creep out of bed and slurp some water from the sink then crawl back under the covers with Mom and Cody… I wonder what Dad is doing right now.