9-28-20

In having opted to homeschool my son, I’ve pretty much eliminated all the free time I used to have to write. I am glad — considering the state of education in relation to the virus at the moment — that I have the skills and ability to homeschool him. However, there are moments that I miss being able to block out the world and escape into an essay or story. I’ve tried, late at night, after he’s gone to bed to write an essay, but I started it during the first week of September and I’m yet to finish it. It’s rambling and disjointed. But I guess it’s something. Words on paper (or on a computer screen) that I can go back to in order to mold and sculpt at some future date, if I can ever keep my eyes open late enough at night to do a proper revision.

While my writing has practically fallen off a cliff, at least I get to help my son develop his own writing skills. Since personal narratives are what I do best, or maybe just what I’ve had the most luck with, I decided to start the school year with a personal narrative. For a topic, my son chose our kayak outing on Labor Day. Despite the tears, and tantrums, and repeated complaints, I think his final draft (he did two prior drafts to get there) came out well. 

He did type it himself. For his technology class, he’s been practicing the keyboard. It always irked me that teachers expect kids to type essays in school without first teaching them the keyboard. If he learns nothing else about computers this year, he will be able to type blindfolded come June.

Here is his first writing assignment of the year:

Inlet Kayaking

by G3

Finally, after a year of asking my mom to go kayaking, she said yes. She thought that I was not strong enough, but I am. If I got swept away, all I would have to do is tilt my kayak and I would reach land. Mom also thought I would not listen because I have a history of not listening. Mom thought if I did not listen to her I would tip over. I told her that if I fell in it would be ok. I had been able to get the highest rank of swimming three times in a row at Cub Scout Camp.

 On Labor Day, I was sitting inside doing my puzzle and watching TV in Mattituck, when mom said we could go kayaking. I was super exited. The reason for Mom changing her mind was a trip this summer to the Apostle Islands. Over the summer, we went kayaking in Lake Superior. The trip was superiorly fun and I showed that I could listen.

In Apostle Islands, my mom and I took a tandem kayak tour together. I was in the front and she was in the back. As we were kayaking, I saw hanging over the water’s edge giant precipices. They were very damp, which made them dazzle in the morning star. At the peak of the cliffs there stood a striking and magical forest. Beneath me, there was a shipwreck from all those years ago. The caverns reminded me of some dark wizardry. When we went inside them, they looked very dark and dreary.      

Back in Mattituck, mom got the two kayaks out of the shed. She made me help her bring them down to the inlet. When we picked up the handles on each end of the kayaks, my hands started to hurt and burn. The handles dug into my hands like nails. We put one down on the side of the road. Hoping no one would take it, we headed toward the inlet once again. It was a lot easier carrying only one kayak this time. 

When we got on the water, the smell of salt water was strong. There were many docks that had wooden owls on them. Not that many people were out that day so we had the water to ourselves. Up ahead, there was an osprey’s nest that I wanted to see on the way back. I knew it was an osprey’s nest because they put their nests close to water and they are very big. Overhead, seagulls continuously flew.  

A little while later, I was getting tired so we headed for dry land to rest. When we were getting close to land we had to go through some reeds. When we got on the sand the ground was very damp. There was a grotesque smell in the air. It smelled of rotten fish. But it was good enough to drink some bottled water. 

Mom was getting sad; she used to come out kayaking with Grandpa and me. I would sit on her lap in the kayak. But Grandpa had passed away five months ago. Mama tucked her arms in and looked at the scenery just like grandpa used to do. While doing that, it made her happy to think of Grandpa.  

On the way back home, we stopped at the osprey’s nest. It was supported by a pole in the middle of the water. In the distance, there were two ospreys circling some prey. 

We were heading back and this time the current was on my side because I was going in the same direction of the current. That meant I could hang back and relax. I was sad that we were leaving, but I had a good time.