They were so cute. The three of them, trying to muster up the courage to tell me something just as class was about to begin, all the while they’re dancing around each other. They can’t decide who should speak.

One of my students began, “Mr. H, well … we …” and then she pushed her friend forward. “You tell him.”

The next girl clutched a bunch of paper to her chest. “The three of us are …” and her voice faded.

Meanwhile, the rest of the class is waiting for me to come to the front of the room and everyone has now turned to see where I am and what I am doing. The three girls turn to their classmates. One says, “You don’t need to listen!” Not in a mean tone, but in a playful tone. They know they are being overheard by friends and the class.

I remain patient, wondering what these three girls are trying to tell me. I resist the urge to say, Get on with it already! I have a class to run! No. Something interesting is going on here. We’ve only been together here in school for a week, so maybe they are trying to figure out how much trust they can put in me. What kind of teacher is he anyway? they are probably wondering. My hope is that it won’t be long before that possible thought isn’t even a question for them as writers.

The first girl steps forward again. “Mr H, we’re writing a novel.”

And with that word now off the tip of her tongue, its like some dam has broken free. They all start talking in a sing-song way about the book they have started to write collaboratively, with three main characters (and each quickly explains a character to me), and each girl is taking on the writing of a single character, and how they are weaving the story together from the three narratives and perspectives. The other two girls go to their notebooks and pull out papers to show me, as if they need to show me physical evidence to prove they have a novel underway. One even shows me an illustration “for the back cover of the book.” It’s an image of three girls walking, arms around each other as friends.

And then, the kicker. One girls says, “Mr H, when we are done with the first chapter, could you … read it for us?”

If it were proper to do so, I would scoop these three girls up in a hug for inviting me into their writing space. Instead, I can only give them words and hope that will be enough. “Yes! Absolutely! I would love to read the first chapter of your novel. And I would love to read the novel, too. That’s so exciting!”

I give them a smile, and they are now all caught up in the magic of writing and expectations, and I hope all of their classmates are still listening, and being inspired by the scene in the back of the room.

I can’t wait to read their story.

Peace (in the sharing),
Kevin