Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for March Slice of Life Challenge.
Poetry Friday round-up with Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe.
When my son was in first grade, he authored a series about a mighty mouse who stood for justice and defending those who could not do so themselves. Bazooka Bill, he was called, and he was (apart from being strong and fair-minded) also hilarious. The series was a big hit both at home and at school, earning him praise from family and friends alike. The only problem was, well…the bazooka. I remember a few conversations about alternate means of bringing justice to the world: magic wand? light saber? But, no, Ben thought the bazooka was integral to his story, and so bazooka it was.
Every author night, and there were quite a few, I would sit through stories about Disney World, and fun at the beach…and then Ben would get up in front of his friends and their parents and read his latest Bazooka Bill installment. His friends were delighted, their parents less so. “Keep that kid away from Lisa, would you?” one father whispered to his wife, as I pretended not to hear. It pretty much always went like that, but Ben was on a writing roll…and I was a happy mom for that.
Ben went on, thankfully, to write about many other things. He is a gifted writer today, and can turn his hand at humor, serious journalism and literary criticism with equal passion and precision, but I remain fondest of his grade school writing, where it all started. The annals of Bazooka Bill live in the book case of my study, and I have just to look at their cardboard bindings to smile. I also love looking at this poem he wrote in fourth grade, which does not feature any weapons…just his love for his family and our home: