Wednesday, 4 February 2015
IWSG - Small Victories
All my free time comes in lump sums. That's the curse of being a teacher. A first year teacher at least who has to make up all her lessons from scratch. The only real bulk of free time that I have comes in the holidays which, I grant you, do make up for the stress of term time. But this means that I've never really finished anything in my life, and very few of the stories in my head can be finished outside of 100k.
As a result of this, my fiction makes slow progress. I tend to write only on average 30 minutes each day. It's not ideal. I would love to immerse myself completely in my world but it's simply not do-able. But the fact remains; I've never really finished anything.
So to make up for this, I decided to stretch my wings a little with a lesson and I wrote a sketch. I'm no stranger to script writing, but only for the Nativities at my Church where I was put in charge of the yearly performance of our young people. Even then I can't take all the credit. Normally I found a script or an idea online and adapted it for our small number of children. But last week, I took it upon myself to write an entire script from scratch. The class in question are not my favourite by any means. They're a mixed bag of personalities with one thing in common, there are very few in the class for whom science is interesting. And those that are interested struggle with it. But I'd been observed with them by another member of staff and although my lesson was satisfactory, we had a long chat and he inspired me to try harder with them, rather than plunging through the content with my head down ignoring all the troublemaking.
So I wrote them a script, where the specialised cells of the body have a huge argument over who is the most important, subtlety slipping in the facts about each cell that they have to know. It took me, perhaps a little under an hour and a half. It was short, but I felt some kind of accomplishment having completed something of my own creation
And they loved it. Everyone who wanted to got involved and those who didn't, for the first time, respectfully sat back and watched the ones reading out their parts. They put in expression and no-one talked over anyone else, a first for them.
I'm under no delusions. They're not cured, and this week they'll probably be back to their naughty selves. But for the first time since September I was proud of them. And of myself. I completed something literary of my own design. It was small but it's a step in the right direction.
What are the small victories that keep you going? Finishing a chapter? Finishing a scene?