...sharing thoughtful, mentor text-inspired lessons your students will love!
Click here to access this freely shared writing lesson!
--and you have up to three edited student samples to share with us, you can post them by copying and pasting them from your computer into our "Reply to This" box below; you may also add samples by adding them as uploaded attachments (like Word documents) to the box below.
Twenty-five Teachers every semester will win a free classroom resource! Each semester, we choose 25 new students to publish at our online lessons directly at the world-famous WritingFix website. To have your students' writing considered, it can be posted below in the box underneath this posting. In November and May, we will select the 25 students whose writing impressed us the most, and if your student(s) is selected, you will be asked to choose from any of the NNWP Print Publications (http://www.unr.edu/educ/nnwp/publications.html) for us to send to your classroom.
Help us celebrate your writers.
--Corbett Harrison, WritingFix Webmaster
Here is My Room
Talia, Eighth Grade
Here is my room, my mess. This is the place where I can throw my shoes off and leave them on the dirty, bright pink – but becomes paler everyday – carpet. This is the place where laundry is piling up on the floor. My floor isn’t the only place filled with clutter. There is my light wooded desk, where I stick old tests and homework sheets that surround my computer. But the most disorderly part of my room is my dark, crowded closet. First of all, I’m allowed to stuff clothes in my closet without even folding them, and I take a great deal of advantage of this privilege. However, what makes my closet even more chaotic then the rest of my room is the fact that fifty percent of all the possessions are in my closet are not even clothes. I can hide objects in my closet that I do not want anybody to see. For its shadowy shelves and tight corners are the perfect places to conceal all of my secret items. Here is my room, this is the place where I can make a mess and nobody can force me to clean it up.
Here is my room, my safe haven. This is the place where I first run in order to hide under my dramatic purple comforter and cry all I want. This is the place where I dream the dreams that only I know about. They cannot leave the confines of my room; they stay trapped within my bedroom walls. I can also think daytime thoughts that have been trying to escape the prison of my mind all day. The real reason why my room is my number one safe haven is that when I am in my room, I am in my own world. No trespasser can cross the threshold. I hide in my room when there are people outside of its territory that I consider “potential foreign enemies”. Some examples of these “potential enemies” are: my brothers, my mom, my dad, or a visitor who I do not like. I prefer to retreat to my room rather than start a war with these “potential enemies”. I feel if we have disagreements it’s best to stay from each other and to avoid conflict. Here is my room, this is a place where my safe haven stands, and an intruder cannot come in.
Here is my room, my storage closet. This is the place where I keep my belongings that my brothers might want to steal like candy, my diary, or electronic gadgets. My favorite things that I like to store in my room is my most prized possessions and greatest accomplishments. This includes things like scrapbooks I made (family trip to Israel 2010, and a scrapbook full of pictures of me when I was two). It took me a long time to make them because I wanted to make sure they were very creative. It took me almost as long as it did to make these scrapbooks as it did to complete the 1,000 piece puzzle that I also keep in my room. My room stores tons of tests where I got a ninety to a 100 on and reports that I got an A to A+ on. Though, my favorite possession and greatest accomplishment that I keep in my room in an invention I made in the seventh grade science fair. My partner and I got an A+ on the report, but the report is nothing like the invention. We created an oven that has many compartments so you can cook various things at once – saving time, energy, and electricity. Of course it’s just a prototype but I still worked so hard on the invention. My room gets the honor of the oven sitting in it. Here is my room; this is the place where I store all of my treasures, for I am rick beyond measures.
By Shaina, Eighth Grade
My room, a small, cozy and satisfying place. The kind of place you can go, no matter what you are feeling, and in my opinion.. the house’s safest place there is. Scattered with pieces describing me.. without speaking a word at all. Books on shelves, clothes within the closet for all seasons.
Color throughout the whole wardrobe. Expression throughout the whole room. My dad’s guitar given to me as a gift, lying right next to my bed for anytime usage. Stuffed animals falling off shelves of wood, rolling on they’re backs because there are too many to fit. None of which had been thrown out, because of the memories I had shared with them when I was younger.
The sad truth that they haven’t been touched in years because of age. Picture frames, filled with captured memories of trips, majority of them being Sea World, pictures of the talent I had shown at dance. Pictures of skateboards and hobbies.
It isn’t to hard to find my beliefs and passion in my room. It is not too hard to find what my dream job would be.. pictures of me on the beach, the place I go in the summer to be free.I am rich beyond measure.
Eli, Eighth Grade
Here is my room:
In dire need of a dustpan and broom.
In the corner sits a navy blue rocking chair,
My dresser shelves are far from bare.
A baseball cap, an autographed bat,
A beautiful sculpture of a fat black cat.
Decks of cards and model cars,
A cropped picture of myself behind bars.
Two windows which let sunlight in,
My dirty clothes piled up in a bin.
Two closets full of clothes and many a toy,
Things you’d expect to find in the room of a boy.
My room: Full of personal treasure.
I am rich beyond measure.
I have a couple to post here:
This one is by Kenny, a 10th grader:
Here is my room: it is in the sky above the dining room and it is filled with wonders beyond comprehension. My jet black Xbox rests silently on my entertainment center, waiting for me to activate it. All around my room lay multi-colored and random bits of legos that I have taken the liberty to assemble into little city forms or bases that allow my imagination to grow. In my closet rests my green and brown camouflaged toy Uzi, of which lets me feel like a real soldier. My bed, which is lined up along my white walls, is the perfect mixture of blue and white and is filled with even more long lost treasures. The bed not only allows me to rest, but it allows my blue chairs to relax on it so when I sit, they is stationary.
Then for my less important treasures, I have an old glass bottle, which commemorates the first time I drank something from a bottle. It was an unforgettable experience for me. Then I have my hoplite statue that stands high over the other treasures, looking upon them from on top of the dresser, keeping them safe from harm. Then in every nook and cranny in my room there is bound to be money somewhere. From little pennies to quarters to tokens, there is money everywhere.
Then we all have a commemorative trinket in our room somewhere. For me I have old gold tinted trophies from when I used to play baseball. Aw, the memories that are infused within those trophies are of the good and bad taste. My most prized one is a laser imprinted F-14 Tomcat. The glass prism is like a diamond and the jet is like mist that was captured and arranged so delicately to commemorate a daring pilot or a dogfight of epic proportions.
For all of these treasures, they mean nothing to me compared to Hobbes. He is my faithful companion, a champion of tigers, and a traveler of the east coast. He is the extra pillow on my bed when I need him. When I am sad, I make his face do goofy expressions that make me chuckle. His fur is of the palest of orange brown and the richest black.
Deep inside of his cloud like interior lays a heart of a warrior. His pounce could topple a mountain, take down a deer, or give you something to laugh at. When you are not looking he will do some wacky antic behind your back. For a stuffed animal, he has more personality than some people I know. He is a friend when I don’t have one, and my most treasured possession. I am rich beyond measure!
Here is another. This one is by Mallory, a 10th grader:
This is my room. In the rich colors of Morocco: red as deep as wine, purple as radiant as a grape juice stain, and gold as fair as the sun. My fan steadily produces a subtle, whisper-like noise, accompanied by a click here and there, its main purpose to chase away that stifling hot summer heat. My curtains, draped from my two windows are both red and purple, designed specifically to block out the street lamps below or the bright morning sun, should I have the time to sleep past eight every now and again. My bed in the corner that squeaks when you lean on its headboard, is cloaked in a bedspread with the previously mentioned Moroccan theme. This heavy comforter insulates during the cold winter nights or when Mom turns the air-conditioner down too low when she doesn’t read the weather forecast. My closet, on the back wall opposite the windows, is one long space, split into two double-door openings. The carpet beneath my feet is shag, the kind that makes you want to walk barefoot and squish your toes through the fibers.
My treasures. Oh, yes, my treasures. I’ve worked hard and long to collect these items that merit a spot on the “special” list of my room. As I am a sucker for anything that has history or an interesting story to it, many of my things are antique. My rocking chair, easily my most favorite thing in the world, stands proud in the corner since I acquired it at an estate sale. The owner said he remembers his Grandmother, and before that, his Great-Grandmother, rocking in the chair that is now mine. My chest, carved out of rich oak wood and fastened with well-loved ornamental handles is braced against the wall, a home for socks and T-shirts. My bedside table is, surprisingly, directly beside my bed, and is beautiful with its oak wood, marble top, and filigree handles. My Grandfather bought that treasure in a Salvation Army store when he lived in Brussels, Belgium. The walls are adorned with many of my own paintings and art pieces, my favorite most likely being the mirror I crafted from broken and painted tile shards and tinted grout. The major focal point being my bookcases, their tops soaring high into the atmosphere of my room, and their shelves stacked with the books upon books that I have read over the years. What space is left upon these cases is utilized with trinkets that exemplify the story that is my life. The hand-painted blocks that represent the genre of books behind them, the vintage perfume bottles, picture frames of my family, friends, and I, and antique Mason jars brimming with buttons, old keys, and marbles. The treasure I am about to discuss is not exactly mine, at the moment, but rather, on its way. It is also easily my most favorite thing in the world. It is my trunk. Not just any trunk. But my antique steamer trunk decorated in travel decals from around the world. I have yet to acquire this piece, but I had to mention it merely because it has become a dream, a passion; the thing that keeps me up late scouring Craigslist and Ebay, hoping to find the treasure that surely has my name on it. I am rich beyond measure.
Here is my room. Dark pink walls defeat the sunlight that shines in. The floors are covered by clothes. When I fix it, it doesn’t last long. The Japanese Cherry Blossom scent dances around the room, giving a delightful smell. The ten rug guards the bed from messes. Posters are all over the walls, like lost dog flyers. My desk is the perfect place for homework. It is very organized. My closet arranged by color coding. My room is a jMy Room
My treasures, I have many. The white elephant symbolizes good luck. I got it as a party favor from an Indian wedding. The microscopic TV is hard to see. My sister left it in her room so I took it, thinking it would be enjoyable. My Go-go’s crowd in a small shoe box, sleeping all day. They all have sentimental value, for they got me close to new friends. The Wanted haunts my room, appearing all over the place. They are my favorite band ever. The center of all my treasures is my iPad Mini. I play with it continuously for hours and hours. My mom got it for me for Christmas. On the back she has engraved, “Jessica Daniela, my beautiful girl. Love mom. 12-25-12.” It’s the best gift ever. I am rich beyond measure.