I am excited to share my sister Charlotte’s essay from today’s writing challenge. She says she doesn’t write, but it is obvious that she can–and very well! I think she should thank me for asking her to do it, and drawing out her talent! 🙂
Nine Things About Myself
I don’t write. Literally, it has never been counted in my past-times. But, I have this persuasive sister (who actually writes) that suddenly decided that she—and anyone else she can corner—is going to do a writer’s challenge and I somehow got cornered.
Even though I don’t write, I read. Classics, a few biographies, historic fiction, novels, you name it. I remember reading through all the Nancy Drew books when I was ten, all the Baby-Sitter’s Club books when I was thirteen, and all the classics I can lay my hands on (so I can feel educated) in the last couple of years.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve enjoyed making things. Anything. I made clay birds for my Mom when she and dad went to Hawaii. I was nine. They were slightly shapeless blobs with beaks, but she still has them on her dresser.
I’m scared of social media. I just started an Instagram account for my art. I had considered it for quite a while, but social media is outside of my comfort zone. I am working on overcoming that.
I am a teacher. A fifth and sixth grade teacher no less. Sometimes it blows my mind that I’m that adult that I looked up to not that long ago. That teacher that could do no wrong. How is that me?
I took a TESOL class this past summer. Spent a whole month learning liguistic terms, teaching classes, and having in-depth discussions on off-hours. Someday, I want the opportunity to use it.
I’ve been called a “smarty-pants” so many times I quit counting. Can I help it if I’m right? Unfortunately, sometimes I’ve been arguing something adamantly to find to my dismay that I’m quite wrong!
I’m one of those people that drinks coffee. Every morning. It’s my ritual to wake me up, because I am definitely not a morning person. And of course, coffee is always better with a sister or two to share it and a conversation with.
My family calls me the social butterfly. Today my family is having supper together at “Grammy’s” house, and since I had previous plans I won’t be able to stay all evening. I am accused of “fluttering off again.” So off I go…