6th Grade Writing

A Storied Career

If I had a career chosen for me, it would have stories involved. I have always loved stories and been good at telling them. When I was really little, I used to watch Thomas the Tank Engine videos, and, after watching them, I would go to our basement and make my own stories on our huge train set.

I also love movies. I have always been writing down ideas for movies because I want to be a filmmaker when I grow up. I guess I’m just good at creating. Stories fascinate me, and I read a lot in my spare time. Whatever kind they come in, I like them.

So, if I had a job chosen for me, I would be a filmmaker because I make movies at home on my computer, and I am good at telling stories. I know a lot about movies, too, so I would be good at telling stories in movie form. Hey, I already have plans for my movies anyway!

Tuesdays at Deerwood

Every Tuesday night at Camp Deerwood, we have a games night where you can play all kinds of odd sports. There’s Hobie Hopping, Salt Tournaments, Windsurf Jousting and Ultimate Thumb Wars. Down by the lake, there are a few rafts to climb on. On the wrestling raft, Ultimate Thumb Wars was going on. I decided to play.

The game works like this: 2 people have to make the other person touch themselves with one of their thumbs. I just happened to be up against a counselor. He only had to use one hand to try and get me to touch myself, but he had one hand he wasn’t using, so I quickly slapped his hand against his chest and he lost. I was champion for 3 rounds until I made the stupid mistake of touching myself with my thumb. I was out, so I had to be thrown off the wrestling raft, as all losers were.

Then I tried Windsurf Jousting, where you stand on the windsurf board and use the mast, which is covered in tin foil, and you try to whack your opponent off his board. I hit my opponent in the side, but he was quick to dodge the second blow, and so I was hit in the face, twice, in the stomach, once, and then a fatal blow to the spot that makes you talk like thissssssss.

But it was cool beating a counselor.

There’s Liver in This Meatloaf!

In my father’s family, many odds things have happened. This just so happens to be one of those stories about them.

To describe my father’s family:

• Geoff (my Dad): The Solid Older Brother
• Jill: Quiet, good girl, but now very talkative
• Mark: Total wiseacre and still is
• Kit: Quiet, good girl and a bit fancy
• Andrea: Mischievous younger sister
• Mother: Kind and caring
• Father: Stubborn, stern and angry

That’s what my father’s family was like in 1962, when my father was 8. His mother was always making meatloaf, because our family loves its meatloaf. But she was always trying to get liver into them, too. But the kids hated liver, so it was almost impossible. Then, one night, Mother came up with a brilliant idea! She would put liver in meatloaf! And that’s exactly what she did. When everyone was gathered around the dinner table, she said, “Now I’m trying a new recipe, so tell me what you think of it.” As always, the kids didn’t think much of it.

But little did they know that Mother was putting in liver. Everyone took a few bites and didn’t really like it; it had a strange taste. They all knew that there was something wrong with it, but they didn’t know what.

Then, all of a sudden, Mark cried out, “There’s liver in this meatloaf! There’s liver in this meatloaf!” Mark was certain. Geoff was amazed at his little brother, Jill, Kit and Andrea were appalled, Father was very confused and Mother was caught red-handed!

Mother tried to cover it all up, to convince the kids that it was normal meatloaf, to control her laughter at the fact that her youngest son (at the time) had figured it out, that it was liver. But she couldn’t. She was truly caught red-handed.

And that was how she felt, too. She really felt as though she had been caught. Why? You ask. Well, because the person who figured out that it was liver was her 6-year-old son. After that, my grandmother never tried to sneak liver past her kids ever again. She knew that she couldn’t after the little incident with my Uncle Mark.

Today, everyone in my Dad’s generation still hates liver and haven’t had it in years. As for my generation, we’ve never even tried it and never will. So, in the end, my family just hates liver. But we do love meatloaf!

Tall Tale: Jack McJackson and the “My, Oh My” Canyon

This assignment called for the students to write a Tall Tale — both literarily and literally: The story had to be handwritten on a long, thin scroll of paper that was at least as tall as the student handing it in. Greg’s story dwarfed him, measuring-in at 6 feet. Each story had some hand-drawn art by the student and was hung from the classroom’s ceiling. (In the picture, below right, that’s Greg’s title character, Jack McJackson, at the "top" of the tall tale.)

If you were to go back in time to the Old West, you’d probably see Jack McJackson and his five tall, thin boys traveling in their horse-pulled wagon. They would eat all sorts of food and go play in all sorts of places, and meet lots of wild people out there. Some so wild they’d frighten you whiter than an eggshell.

Jack McJackson and his boys decided to go travelin’ when the Texas revolution began. They didn’t want no part of the war with the Mexicans. But when the war was over, the McJacksons didn’t want to go home. They loved all the joys of traveling: eating fish so green they looked sick, dancing with scorpions and playing with rattlesnake rattles.

On one of their travels, they came across the Colorado River — in Arizona! The water was so clear it looked like you could fall right to the bottom of the earth in it. They decided to take a swim in the beautiful water. When they started swimmin’ and drinkin’ they couldn’t stop. The water tasted like heaven, and it was so nice swimmin’ on a hot day. It was a lot of fun.

Until Pete the Puma came along. He was so crazy, he dressed in puma skins and crept around roarin’ at critters, including humans. Under the puma skins, his hair was very long and dirty. His breath was so bad it could kill the entire state of Montana! And this crazy puma man thought this part of the Colorado River (in Arizona!) was his private watering hole. With a lot of roaring and screaming, he chased the McJacksons away. He yelled, “I’ll eat you alive if you come back tomorrow.”

But the McJacksons didn’t scare easy, and they were back the next day. The river was too special to give up. But as they were swimming and drinking, Jack saw something — what looked like a puma in the distance. He knew that if Pete the Puma man came back, they’d all get eaten alive. So Jack came up with a plan and told it to his five boys. “We’ll do it tomorrow,” he said.

The next day, Pete the Puma was back. They could smell his breath for hours before they could see him. When he arrived, he saw the six McJacksons lined up against their wagon. “Oh, Pete,” moaned Jack, “you go swimming in that water you gonna burn up faster than a woodstick in a campfire. The sun burned up the water.”

“Golly, Jack,” said Pete, “I always took you fer a dopey, no-good-for-nuthin’ southerner. But thanks for the advice.”

Pete went off in search of a new waterhole. Maybe one in the shade, he thought. But he had no luck. Everywhere he went there was a problem: The water was too shallow or too muddy or no shade.

He decided to go back to the Colorado River (in Arizona!). But when he went back, he saw the six McJacksons there, swimmin’ and a-drinkin’. He was so angry, he let out a huge, furious roar and screamed, “You sorry lyin’ little swine!”

So he ran to the Colorado River (in Arizona!) and began to drink. He drank and drank and drank. The river sank and sank and sank. At last, the river had dropped from sight. It was now a series of canyons and gorges.

Jack was so red in the face, he looked like an apple. He went up to Pete, who now looked like a giant water balloon the size of three buffalos, and poked him smack in the belly. Water went flying out of Pete’s mouth like a hose. He went flyin’ away, never to be seen again.

Jack looked over at what had been the surface of the deep Colorado River (in Arizona!) and saw nuthin’. He walked over to the edge of what had been the river and looked down and saw the river tricklin’ a mile beneath his feet. He said, “My, oh my, what a Grand Canyon!”

And that was that . . .