The Art of Letting Go

Complications do not always arrive in the form of an attacking dragon. In fact, most complications are born from quests to rescue princesses, campaigns to conquer more land, or simply taking care of one more pig on the farm. Problems are not thrust upon us; we adopt them – willingly or grudgingly. Then, we become attached to them. They start off as cute little problems, and we dutifully endure the annoyances they cause. But soon they grow into huge problems that can barely be managed, and yet we think we won't know how to survive without them, so we chain ourselves to them and let them drag us along. All we really needed to do was let go.

I know of so few people who are able to let go. I have certainly struggled with it. And yet, beyond letting go, there is a simplicity – a divine simplicity... a feeling of peace. It seems unattainable, but I know that it exists.

Sometimes, problems aren't the only ideal things to release into the universe. Sometimes, we could let go of things we enjoy – or think we enjoy. And we might find that – instead of living without – we actually begin living with more... more peace... more time.

Wishfully, I think that this would have been a wonderful thing for me to master as a tween. Letting go of stuff. Letting go of worries. Letting go of resentment. Letting go of whims. But that is okay, I will let go of living in the past.

All I am suggesting is that you begin to let go in your life - early on, or wherever you're at. I think you will know what to let go of, it becomes obvious once you have a few moments of inspiration, but it can still be hard to take the next step. If you can't do it, let go, and don't focus on the fact. Obviously, you can't force yourself to let go.

So, as you go to sleep tonight, and you lie in bed pondering this, don't ponder this... let go. Allow sleep to come naturally, and allow your life (the rest of your tween years, your teen years, and beyond) to fall onto the simplest path.

Thank you for reading.

Zachary W.

Twisted Tweens: It's Hot

These are the first few days of the year that the temperature has reached up to 100 degrees here in my part of Kansas. The local news has even reported the deaths of several elderly people – people who sit inside of enclosed houses without air conditioning or fans.

Well, we don't have air conditioning either. But we're in no danger of expiring. I've never lived with air conditioning, and I've always been fine without it. I hope I never have to rely on it, because I sort of enjoy the natural simplicity of flowing with the seasons.

Nonetheless, it's hot. It's been a little hard to sleep the past two nights. I merely have to adjust to the ocean of sweat dripping off me, and the noise of my personal box fan that stands just a few feet away. Then, it'll It'll get better; it does every summer.

When one is accustomed to heat, it is much easier for one to enjoy being outside in the heat. It is also much more endurable if one must rehearse a play in an old building without air conditioning. My theatre group often has to do this (I think we will this year). And I have been able to blissfully enjoy the rehearsal, while everyone else is suffering from the heat.

I don't necessarily advise living without air conditioning, especially if you're some sort of extremely fragile person. But I do suggest that you try to abstain from using it except on very hot days. You will save energy by doing this, too.

Of course, good luck convincing your parents not to turn on the AC unless it's over 85 degrees.
Still, the challenge might be fun.

Thanks for reading.
Zachary W.

Twisted Tweens: A Bit of Blue from the Menu

Sorry, all, I wrote this column yesterday, only to forget to post it. (Smacks self on head.) Happy Friday, by the way.

Today, I was looking through a wonderful book that I got for my birthday. It's called Random House Word Menu, by Stephen Glazier. It's a reference book that organizes language by subject matter. Therefore, I could look under Clothing, and find nearly every word related to clothing that I would ever want to know.

For the first time in while here in Kansas, the gray clouds parted and revealed a blue sky. I looked up Colors in the Word Menu.

Thirty listings under Gray and fifty-six listings under Blue. Here are my five favorites from each:

Gray
ash
battleship
obsidian
plumbago
smoke

Blue
azure
gentian
indigo
smalt
zaffer

Just seeing these words, forming them silently with my lips, makes me appreciate our vast language.

My point, I suppose, is that you should really check out this book, whether you're a word lover or not. You might not be allowed to literally check it out from a library, since it's a gigantic reference book, but you could at least go and immerse yourself in it for a little while – or find it on Amazon.

Thanks for reading these words.
Zachary W.

Twisted Tweens: A Childhood Without Music

I think of childhood; piano lessons come to mind. That proverbial hour of the week, when little legs would dangle from a black bench and a skirted woman with time-appointed wisdom would instruct the curve of fingers, is what I thought of today – for it is the proverbial hour that I never experienced.

Not that I ever had any desire to learn the piano, or any instrument for that matter. My parents – both as musical as rock without a stick to tap it – would have generously provided for any musical whim, as they often felt that they should have learned to play music when they were young. But I was a stubborn and shy thing. When the subject of learning an instrument was brought up, I never envisioned the freedom of jubilant, artistic expression, but the chains wrought from my fear of failure.

Thank goodness that's over! I thought of all of this today, because this was the day of my first music lesson. Not piano, though. Guitar.

I'm taking lessons at the Alcott Arts Center, along with my brother, Noah. The instructor is Fast Johnny Ricker himself. Locally, Johnny is a famous blues musician. He's the sort of guy that, if you wear one of his t-shirts, you're likely to get a comment. More importantly, to me, I've known Johnny for over ten years. His oldest son is my best friend. And Johnny's amazing in about every single way. I suppose that I could have learned guitar from him at any time in my life. At least I'm doing it now.

For those of you tweens who play an instrument, I applaud you. You are experiencing what I had always envisioned as a normal childhood. For those of you tweens who do not play an instrument, I applaud you, too. There is always time to start, and there's never any pressure.

Thank you for reading.
Zachary W.

Twisted Tweens: The Concession Stand

Baseball season has begun for my younger brother, Noah. He's thirteen, and he loves baseball. This is the first year that he's playing in a competitive league, though; he's always played in a recreational league before. A few things (besides the obvious) are different about a competitive league: the coaches are louder, and they throw their caps more often; the fans are louder, calling out magic baseball phrases that I've never heard before; and (to top off this cacophony) the game is more exciting – just not exciting enough.

I must confess that I had my nose buried into a book for a few batters. And, occasionally, I found it more interesting to watch the people in the crowd. The parents dutifully sat on the uncomfortable wooden bleachers, and I knew that they wouldn't miss watching their miniature, green Athletics for the world or a soft recliner. Some of the siblings, on the other hand, found the abstract possibilities of a little league sports complex much more fascinating. Bleachers, they saw, and climbed through them with the graceless swinging of just-too-short limbs. Dust puddles, they saw, and scooped up handfuls of the mystic powder to cast into the air like the ghosts of an Independence Day celebration. A concession stand, they saw, and asked their mothers for any number of one dollarses.

An hour and forty-five minutes. Only an hour and forty-five minutes, and these kids made several trips to the concession stand. Nachos, hot dogs, assorted candies, and the biggest pickles I had ever laid eyes on came back from that stand. When I got a closer look at the place, it looked more like a special prison cell than a place to buy food. Lots of tough looking metal probably protected the teenagers inside from angry fans, really desperate robbers, and greedy little kids. My youngest brother was one of the siblings that continued returning to the concession stand. I wasn't listening closely enough to know whether he had planned this out and brought his own money, or whether he was asking my soft-hearted mom to provide for raising the dental bill.

“Isaiah, you do the strangest things,” I told him, seeing that he had bought some of the most unappetizing gum I had ever seen.

His ten-year-old face grinned, almost mischievously. He shrugged his shoulders, and soon slipped away to buy a Snickers bar.

Tonight, before he falls asleep, I should go and ask him – just for the sake of curiosity -- “Hey, what do you enjoy more: the game, or the snacks?”

Thanks for reading.

Zachary W.

For Young Playwrights

It wasn't until I turned eleven that I first started writing. I was fourteen before I wrote my first play. Now I am 17, and this year, 2009, is the first year that I have submitted plays for competitions.

Funnily enough, I've thought – sometimes for years in advance – about doing all of these things before I decided to actually follow through with the action. Perhaps, this is important for my development as a person and a writer. Yet, I can't help but look back and think, 'Gosh, wouldn't it have been cool if I'd started earlier, even when I was an 8-year-old tween.'

So, if you think you want to write a play, or if you've already written a play, follow this link to read about a great competition – if not the best – for young playwrights.

http://youngplaywrights.org/nationalcontest.htm

There are so many wonderful things about this competition that you'll have to discover some of them for yourself. These, however, are my three favorite things.

1. You can submit any type of original play (well, not a musical, but it's still a lot of freedom).
   
2. You may submit more than one play.... For free!
   
3. A professional will send you a written evaluation of your play just for submitting it.
   

That third item is invaluable. It's a theatre professional pointing out the strong and weak points of your play. And you don't have to be a finalist or a winner to receive this. Every single play that's submitted will be evaluated. The only thing you have to pay for is postage.

If you are or want to be a playwright, I sincerely encourage you to enter this competition. Fortunately, it's annual. The next deadline is January 2nd, so you've got some time (but trust me, it will fly by quickly).

Have fun and thanks for reading.
Zachary W.

Twisted Tweens: I Envy the Pushmi-Pullyu

I was outside, digging young bushes out of my mom's garden; I enjoyed the beauty of all the little green plants around me – dappled with the sunlight that poured through the grown bushes bending over me. I was outside, knowing that I should savor the moment... and I wanted to go inside. It wasn't as though I felt hot or overly bother by the mosquitoes. I simply wanted to go in and write – for there are so many things to write. And as much as I love write, I was annoyed that it distracted me from living freely in my moment of gardening, just as I was annoyed at the gardening for keeping me from writing.

I've been feeling like this a lot recently, like a single headed creature that wants to talk and eat at the same time (and I know that plenty of people do this, but it's not very proper or practical.) Thus, I find myself envying Dr. Doolittle's pushmi-pullyu. This creature had a head at each end of its body, something which has several benefits: first, it is very difficult to catch, and, second, it can eat and talk at the same time – in fact, one head did most of the eating, while the other head managed most of the talking. Alas, I have no such capabilities. So, I've been asking myself what I should do. Should I stuff food into my mouth as I force out an unintelligible monologue? Well, obviously, I should not. I should take one bite of food, give it thirty-two good chews, enjoy the taste and swallow. Then, if I must speak, I should use clear, complete sentences. Yes, this is what I should do with the things I love. Pay special attention to each. I just wish that there was more time.

In spite of feeling distracted in two, I've had some fairly good success recently. Two of my plays were selected for The Coterie's Young Playwrights' Festival, and the performances (or staged readings) went really well. They even got reviewed. And I hope that all reviews of my plays will be as kind as this one. Here's the link to the review http://kcmetropolis.org/articles/Young_Playwright_s__05,12,09,04,05,20

I also directed a play of Puss in Boots at the Alcott Arts Center – something for which I even got paid. Plus, I've had a couple of other projects going on. And as exciting as all of this is, it has been distracting (or forcefully pulling) me from my normal life, and the routine things I enjoy, such as gardening and writing my Dekoposh column. I just hope I can find the balance.... And a way to do everything.

I even felt this way as a Tween, but I imagine other Tweens feel it even more, because I wasn't a terribly busy Tween.

But busy or not. I will be back next week.

Thank you for reading.

Zachary W.

Earth Day Dancing with Stan Slaughter

Thinking back to the Earth Days when I was a Tween, I realize that I did a lot more to celebrate Earth Day back then. There was one particular event – and musician – with which a group of my homeschooling companions and I were involved. His name was Stan Slaughter, The Eco-Troubadour. He wrote many environmental songs, and he performed a lot of others that he didn't write. Every year, at the Kansas City Zoo, he was part of an Earth Day celebration, along with other performers... such as Green Elvis.

The other homeschoolers and I were supposed to come up with our own dances to his songs. So, he would sing and play his guitar up on the stage, and we would dance on the ground in front of him. We always spent a few weeks creating dances and gathering props. Of course, once we got to the performance, Stan always sang the verses of his song in a different order than they were on the CD that he gave us to use. Thus, all of our choreography was usually thrown to the compost pile, and we improvised.

Needless to say, it was fun. Really fun! If you don't own any of Stan Slaughter's music, I suggest that you find some. Although he has many others, these are the ten songs that we danced to:
1. Habitat
2. Little Blue Ball
3. Garbage Blues
4. Prairie
5. Compost Pile
6. Salmon Circle
7. Recycle Shuffle
8. Excuse me, Sir
9. Goo Get You
10. Inch by Inch

I know it's the day after Earth Day, but we always performed on the Saturday after Earth Day, anyway. Plus, these songs are fun any time of the year.

By the way, here is his website! www.stanslaughter.com/ Be sure to check it out!

Thank you for reading!

Zachary W.

Twisted Tweens: Drama Class #8

Last week, I told my drama students that we would not be doing a performance when a few of the other classes displayed their work in a showcase. This week, no one remembered that I had said this.

“Oh, we're not doing a play?” Bunny asked, rather startled and on the verge of severe disappointment.

“Well, no,” I said, “we don't really have one ready.”

“But what about the play we've been practicing?” she asked.

“Well....” I said. The play she was speaking of was not really a play; it was a short disconnected story that the characters wove when they were interacting and improvising. But I try to never stifle enthusiasm. “If you guys want to rehearse it, maybe you can show it to your moms and siblings.”

Even Girl Nikki agreed, “We need to practice it a lot.”

Rachelle was late, for some reason. But once she got there, she became the director. They had invented a lot of the story on their own, so I didn't really know what I should be telling them to do. I was actually very pleased to stand by, allow them to direct each other, and insert my help as necessary.

Of course, just to complicate things, they wanted all of the boys to be involved. Metal Man was actually one of the easier ones to deal with. J. and Boy Nicky had a very difficult time focusing. Yet, I was extremely impressed with Rachelle. She managed them better than I was able to. Nonetheless, they were still quite distracted, but at least she obtained a few glimmers of seriousness out of them.

During their rehearsal, the girls talked too quietly and the boys talked when they weren't supposed to. I advised them about these slight shortcomings, but their subsequent improvement was not great by any means.

At the very end they had a “dress rehearsal” in front of one mom and a few kids. To watch it was... rather painful, and even a little inspiring (I want to bring an actual play for Rachelle to direct in the next session). The mom who watched told me afterwards, “That was funny, Zach. It was like herding cats.” I nodded and gave a wry smile.

Next week, they will supposedly perform in front of a whole audience. I am trying to decide on a presentation speech.

Thanks for reading.

Zachary W.

P.S. Happy Easter!

Twisted Tweens: Drama Class #7

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice,
That's what Little Girls are made of,
Made of

Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails,
That's what Little Boys are made of,
Made of

People truly seemed to believe this rhyme. And, when I was younger, it really irritated me.

It was simply unfair. I did not run around in circles. I did not attack people. And I was a very good listener. People always knew this about me after a while, but (even if they weren't talking about me) it still rubbed me the wrong way whenever adults and girls rolled their eyes and said, “Boys.”

Nonetheless, I now look at my drama class of 6-9 year olds and I wonder, What is it about the boys? Today, in order to actually accomplish something in the thirty minutes of time that we have allotted to us, I took the three boys over to play a drama game, while I let the girls pair up and work on a project that I had laid out for them. This worked out rather well. The boys didn't have to focus quite as hard and the girls didn't have the boys to distract them.

Of course, I didn't set out to separate the boys from the girls. I wanted to separate the crazy people from the the people who had the ability to concentrate. Obviously, not all boys are maniacs at the age of seven. And I know at least one fifteen year old girl who still runs inside of buildings like a wild horse. So, in the end, it all depends on the specific children that one is working with.

Therefore, I try to avoid expecting that all girls are refined sugar cookies. Just as I also try to avoid expecting that all boys will come in, dripping with mud and wagging their puppy dog tails. In fact, I try to avoid expecting anything. Because, who knows? People are amazing, and they break all expectations.

Thank you for reading.

Zachary W.

P.S. Please, stop reading my column. Now.

P.P.S April Fools! (Seriously, don't stop reading!)

Twisted Tweens: Drama Class #6

Happy Birthday, Zach!”

As I walked between classes at the community center yesterday, I heard plenty of random friends tell me this. Eventually, the fact was unmistakable: it was my birthday, and I was having fun.

I was born at 1:32 PM, in the bright sunlight of a Wednesday afternoon. March 25th, 1992 to be precise. Well, once again my birthday was on a Wednesday, but at 1:32 PM – instead of squirming my five pound body in the open air for the first time – I was in the middle of teaching drama class to my six to nine year old students.

We had a good class. They improvised scenes with their ever-present characters. At the end of class, I told them that I was directing a play, Puss in Boots. Previously, some of them had been interested in auditioning. But I think they might be a bit too young, and their attention spans might be a bit too short. Still, I thought I would give them each the chance to act like a cat.
They all seemed to enjoy acting like cats so much more than they enjoy the heavy, intellectual concepts that I try to present to them. I don't blame them for having this preference. For the next session of classes, I will be sure to return to such fun, light-hearted activities.

After class, my family and I were getting ready to leave. I overheard Metal Man's mother telling him that it was my birthday. Pretty soon, Metal Man walked up to me. “Happy Birthday, Zach,” he said.

“Oh, thank you, Metal Man,” I replied.

“I didn't know it was your birthday. If I had known, I would have brought you a present.”

I think I thanked him again. It's really amazing. Metal Man has such an out-of-control, egotistical and hyper personality, but he can pause everything and actually be sincerely sweet. In fact, he's an adorable child! I don't know why he has so much craziness inside of him.

Thanks for reading. I must go and prepare my house for my birthday celebration this weekend.

Zachary W.

Twisted Tweens: Drama Class #5

What is your objective?

Over and over, I ask the students this question. “What do you want?” “What is it that you're trying to get?” They have this pretty well nailed down. Yesterday, I (actually, the Instructor) tried to get them to obtain their objectives.

“Do you remember what you want?” the Instructor asked, shoving them up in front of the squirmy, makeshift audience (though they focus relatively well when they act, their attention wanders when they have to sit and watch their classmates act). The Instructor wanted them to improvise a scene in which their objective was right in front of them – along with an obstacle – and they, of course, would try to reach their objective.

There was one problem. They already had a storyline planned out. Instead of using intentions or tactics to reach their objective, they merely used the story. “And now we do this...” someone would say, and – ta-da! – everything worked out. To prevent this, the Instructor added more complications, but, though it improved, they still weren't grasping the concept of using tactics to overcome the obstacles.

Suddenly, Rachelle (who plays the character of Isabelle) blew the Instructor away. She wanted respect. This was her objective. She did not get any respect, especially from the king of the castle, who made her do a lot of cleaning and cooking. She didn't do what the Instructor expected her to try in this situation. But she did do something – something that seemed very logical after she did it. In the midst of a chaotic scene (some other characters were onstage, too) she tricked the king into giving up his throne to someone else. She tricked the king! She used a tactic, intention or whatever you want to call it. But she did it! The Instructor and I were very proud.

Thank you for reading. Have a pleasant spring week.

Zachary W.

P.S. I learned that Rachelle is actually eight years old! Therefore, I officially have a Tween in my class!

Twisted Tweens: Drama Class #4

Drama Class began as usual. I gathered children from all corners of the building. Thus, we started four minutes late. I asked everyone to form a circle, and they mostly complied. Metal Man and J. caused general disruption. I could barely wait to implement my new plan. But in my distracted state, I was not very eloquent.

“So, last week,” I said, “we were creating characters. So, this week we're going to act out our characters. Okay? So, there's kind of a ritual that starts off drama things, where you go –– Could you sit down J., Metal Man?”

Metal Man chased J. around our newly formed circle. I could not imagine that they were able to listen very well.

“I'm trying to,” J. responded.

They eventually sat down, and I continued. “And we all –– to put on our characters –– we go to a spot in the room, and we let go of everything we're thinking about....”

“So, pretty much we blow up our brains,” inserted Metal Man.

“No,” I said, “it's more like you empty––”

Little, straggly haired Bunny said, “I'm not thinking of anything.”

“Well that's great!” I replied, “That way you can start thinking as the character. So, to do this, we're going to each find a place in the room. You're going to––”

“Do you smell a big gas?” asked Metal Man.

I ignored him and continued, “––empty out everything that you're thinking about. And then you become Link, or whatever character you are.”

In the very first class, Metal Man decided that his character would be Link (yes, the elf from the video game). Obviously, I wasn't thrilled by the originality of this choice, but I allowed it to slide. As far as I know, the other students have created new characters. Actually, never mind. Boy Nicky's character, Fire, has some relation to Pokemon.

I told them I had also created a character. My character was a Drama Class Teacher, and he was firmer than I.

We each found a space in the room. After we became our characters, we called each other by our character names. This is our cast list:

Zachary ........ The Instructor
Metal Man .... Link
J. ................... Sir Locaver
Bunny ........... Mariposa
Dani .............. Pinky
Girl Nicki ..... Snowdrop
Rachelle ....... Isabelle
Boy Nicky ... Fire

In some ways, I feel that I have made this class too complicated. Creating characters with objectives and obstacles is very difficult. Additionally, it's hard to remember everyone's names.

Fortunately, I discovered that my character was much better at teaching the class than I. At least, he was able to keep some semblance of order. Metal Man (who was supposed to be playing Link) was not allowed to touch or grab this instructor at all. This instructor stopped rowdiness. This instructor refused irrelevant student requests. This instructor achieved levels of assertiveness that I, Zachary, couldn't even dream of. This instructor will definitely teach next week's class.

I don't know if the students were as happy in their characters. Rachelle and Bunny did extremely well acting as their characters, though. At least, they seemed to discover a lot of new information about their characters. In particular, I want to see what Rachelle does with her character, Isabelle. Isabelle wants respect and The Instructor is giving her none. He doesn't give her a chance to talk to anyone, and he forces her to clean. Hopefully, Isabelle will find a way to get what she wants...... Next week.

Thank you for reading.

Zachary W.

Twisted Tweens: Drama Class #3

Seven students: Boy Nicky and Girl Nicki have joined the other students, Rachelle, Dani, Metal Man, J., and Bunny. We don't have a lot of time in thirty minutes, but I feel that the Drama Class is going along splendidly. I, however, have infinite patience.

Apparently, if one is a parent sitting by and listening to the proceedings, it is unbearably brutal. Metal Man knows how to disrupt about anything. He wants everyone to do what he suggests, for he feels that he has a million great ideas. Of course, he does have great ideas, but it is difficult to conduct a class when he continuously suggests things and occasionally gets his way. Also, though he seems capable of sitting still, he will randomly pop up and run about; then, the other two boys, J. and Nicky, will join in, and I must ask them to return to the group, which takes time. I, however, can tolerate any amount of this rudeness –– until someone else cannot.

Truthfully, I should not allow such behavior. Parents pay me to teach their kids, most of the kids pay close attention to learn from my teaching, but I allow chaos to rule the class, simply because I have infinite patience, because I don't feel bothered. I must put an end to this. If I am to be an effective teacher, I must put aside all of my excessive gentility. In the words of Maria (not yet) Von Trapp, 'I will be firm, but kind.'

And next week's chapter will sound very different.

Thank you for reading.

Zachary W.

Twisted Tweens: Drama Class #2

The people in charge moved my Drama Class for 6-9 year olds to another room. I now hold class in the multi-purpose room. It is huge, at least twice the size of the last room we used. Only one possible problem exists with a large room: the students have more room to run around. Fortunately, if it existed, they all did very well at controlling this urge.

Sadly, I lost a student this week. Utah joined the book club. I told you he was a reader. His mother assured me that he really liked my class, but it was thirty minutes instead of an hour this time and he had more friends in the book club. Nevertheless, my class continues to grow. Bunny enrolled in my class before any one else, but she got sick last week, so yesterday was her first official class. She has long limp hair hanging all around her tiny body, and her blue eyes always look confused until she grins. As you can probably guess, Bunny is very softspoken. Also, I have a new boy student; J. is his name. J. has small, pointed features, and a very sharp, imaginative mind.

Because of popular demand, we played the Murderer game. (Normal people might know this game as Detective Handshake.) But in all the circles I know, it is appropriately titled Murderer. This is a game of dying, secret scratching and great complaining if someone dies too quickly after being scratched, giving the murderer's identity away immediately. I try not to use this game in Drama Class too much, because I don't feel it accomplishes as much as other activities.

Therefore, we moved on, and spent most of the class developing characters. Everyone was surprisingly calm and attentive during this. Each student had a turn. On his/her turn, the student would sit in a chair. The rest of us sat on the floor. I had Dani go first. Her character, which she made last week, is a princess with pink hair; additionally, she loves the color pink, wears pink, has a pink room and a pink pet dragon.

“Does this girl have any siblings?” I asked.

“Yes, she has one brother,” said Dani.

“Was her brother born with strange colored hair, too?”

“No.”

“Oh, so her brother's kind of normal, but she's really different.”

“Yes.”

“Does anyone tease her or... How do people treat her, since she's different?”

“They just treat her nice,” said Dani, a perpetual happiest.

“Do they treat her like she's better than other people? Like she's special?”

“No. They just treat her like everyone else.”

As nice as Dani's character is, there's not much of a story yet.

I tried to ask the students, “What does your character want?” And I got a few promising answers.

J.'s character is a knight – an immortal Head Knight, to be precise. I asked J. what this knight wanted.

“Victory,” said J. “But he can never get victory,” he added.

“Why not?” I asked, very excited.

J. said that the enemy had tigers on its side (their claws are as long as the arm of a chair). He described a lot of fancy weapons that the enemy had, too. He practically gave me a play-by-play account of a battle, acting out the important maneuvers. I was kind of impressed, though this was not exactly what I was searching for.

Bunny, a fairy princess trapped in a snowglobe that she's lived in her whole life, gave a very good answer.

“She wants to know if there are more people out there.”

It sounded like a good story to me.

At first, Rachelle said her character was a maid, but then she decided that her character was a princess whom everyone treated like a maid.

“She wants to get respect,” Rachelle said.

This was another fantastic answer, possibly my favorite. Class was so short that I didn't have the chance to explore these characters as much as I wanted to. But I can't wait to interrogate them next week.

Thank you for reading.

Zachary W.

P.S. I don't think I have any eight year olds in my class, and I definitely don't have any nine year olds. In other words, I'm not actually talking about Tweens here. I mean, I would share these stories with people of any age, but I thought Tweenage readers might prefer to hear about kids their own age. So, what do you readers think? Would you like me to focus more on Tweens? Post a comment if you have something to say.

Twisted Tweens: Drama Class

Every Wednesday, from 1:15 to 1:45, I will teach a drama class to a group of 6-9 year old kids. This started yesterday.

My class is one of many different classes. The homeschool group I'm in has organized these classes for several years. But this is only the second time I've taught. I call these classes Wednesday Classes, because they've often been held on Wednesday. In reality, they're called S.C.E.N.E classes -- not that I remember what the acronym stands for.

We've held Wednesday Classes at several different community centers. We are using a brand new community center this time around. I walked into it for the first time yesterday. It looked magnificently nice and new. It smelled as if it had just popped out of a doll house factory; all the chemicals of creation-according-to-humans still lingered, invisible to us. Oh well, the smell will wear away.

They did not build a stage. I believe that if someone builds a building for the public to use they need to build a stage along with it. Therefore, it bothers me that no stage exists at this new community center. On the other hand, I do have a nice room for my class. It has carpet, which feels slightly softer than our usual floors. And people don't need to walk through it every few minutes to get to a different room. And the pool table stands in a different room, so my drama students won't feel so tempted distract themselves with the pool balls. Yes, I'm very, fairly pleased.

I had four students yesterday. More will join in next week. The most interesting student I have is Metal Man. He's seven and rambunctious. He seeks a lot of attention and he tries to control everything that we do in the class. The other boy (I have two) is Utah, who is a little rambunctious, especially if Metal Man attacks him. Overall, he's much easier to control. He's also highly intelligent; he has read all seven Harry Potter books, and he's only six. Rachelle, a shy but headstrong girl, is much quieter than the two boys, who like to chatter about their own achievements. She also tries to control the wild Metal Man –– at least, she tries to protect me from him. I appreciate this, but it can lead to chaos when they resort to wrestling. Dani remains the quietest of all. Her imagination might be too sweet to make a balanced character (each one is supposed to develop his or her own character) but I'll try to explain this to her as we move along, and I expect that she will catch on.

I expect that I will keep writing about these classes, as they are weekly and they tend to provide a lot of interesting stories.

So, until I have more to say....

Zachary W.

Twisted Tweens: The Day of Awkward Hearts

Ah, Valentine's Day...

... how awkward.

Are you going to stress out?

Last year, you liked someone. You wanted to give that person a valentine, but you feared it would look weird if you only gave a valentine to one person. So you stayed up until 2 A.M., making cards for every person you knew. On the front, the card read, “I don't love you...” On the inside, the card read, “but you're a great friend.” And you accidentally made one card without the word “don't” on the front. And your plan was to accidentally give this card to the person you liked. Then, if the person you liked did, actually, complain, you could prove that the whole matter was a big accident.
Of course it didn't work. You really accidentally gave it to the wrong person. Then, that person accidentally started to like you, and you had to accidentally avoid that person for months.

No, this year, you're playing it cool –– cool as the heart of really unconcerned penguin. You are playing it so cool that you completely ignore Valentine's Day. You don't even think about hearts or roses or cards or the color pink or baby archers. Stick your hands in your pockets and take a stroll. Casual. Cool. You ain't got nothing to think about. Hey, look. Your best friend in the world is walking towards you. Cool. Your friend's practically wearing a cupid outfit. Hey, don't freak out. Just don't stare too hard. Pretend your friend always dresses like this, so it's nothing different. Cool.
Now, your friend says like, “Hey!”
And you say like, “Hey.”
And your friend says like, “Hey, I was just thinking about you.”
And you like nearly respond, but your friend pulls out this fifteen dollar box of fancy, delicious chocolates and shoves it into your hands. Cool....
And all you can do is say like, “Oh, yeah, forgot it was Valentine's Day.”
Your friend says like, “Oh,” to make you feel better or something.
And you like dig around in your pockets for minute. You find something. It's a flattened pompom animal that you found on the side of the road. Cool. Only got one googly eye left on it. But you give it to your friend and say like, “Here, why don't you take this.”
Now, you look like Valentino Scrooge. Cool?

So, what will you do?! What will you do?! At this point, you will PANIC!!! You will panic, because you will think, “This Valentine's Day stuff is an unavoidable waste of time and emotions!!!” But before you start feeling like an overwhelmed crazy person, will you listen to this?! (This little gem of a fortune cookie will help you immensely!) You will be a reasonable person, and you will not get your advice from the Internet. To ensure that this sinks in, you will take a brief pause... And you will continue! You will get your advice from your parents, your dog, or your own little Jiminy Cricket, but not the Internet!!! Your Valentine's Day will be lovely, love-filled and lovetastic! You will be busy with construction paper! You will share one of those heart-shaped pizzas with someone! You will feel happy and carefree, because all of your dreams will come true!

You have a happy Valentine's Day.

Heartfeltly Yours,
Zachary W.

Twisted Tweens: A Word about Words

Some people say that speaking and writing would be impossible if we didn't have words. But I say, why would we want to speak or write if we didn't have words? Sometimes I wonder what I'm trying to share when I communicate: ideas or words. Ideas are interesting. Words are amazing. I could play word games all day, if I could have a few breaks to read the dictionary. There is something very satisfying about learning a new word. So today I'm going to post a few interesting – I mean amazing – words. If you already know them, I challenge you to go find some words that you don't know.

palatable

1. agreeable to the palate or taste

2. agreeable or acceptable to the mind

Personally, I find palatable to be a very palatable word.

magnanimous

1. noble in mind or soul; free from mean or petty feelings or acts
2. showing a generous spirit; generous in forgiving

I remember thinking, when I first heard this word, that it sounded like a synonym for large. If you're going to tell someone that they are magnanimous, then you might want to make sure they know what magnanimous means.

morose

1. sullen, surly
2. gloomy

It's rather ironic that I often feel excited about the word morose.

vacuous

1. showing no intelligence or thought
2. having no meaning or direction; empty

Hopefully, a sentence containing the word vacuous will have meaning.

depravity

1. moral corruption
2. extreme wickedness

Not knowing this word is an act of depravity. Now you're good!

Have a great week! And go word hunting if you get the chance!

Zachary W.

Twisted Tweens: Collaboration for All Ages

At age sixteen, I must admit that most of my friends are close to my age. Still, I have plenty of exceptions. For instance, I'm friends with the younger sister of my best friend. I'll call this girl G, because I want to relate a fun experience that I had with her, and I don't wish to call her The Younger Sister Of My Best Friend every time I mention her.

G is nine. She is a curious, inventive and funny Tween. She loves cats. She has created her own language. And she is a stunning writer. When writing a story, she weaves all of her curiosity, inventiveness, humor and cats straight into it. I had the grand privilege, recently, to weave a story with her.

Of course, we didn't write an instant classic. Indeed, you won't see Alex Wubzy and His Woeful Troubles pushing Harry Potter off the shelves. But it was fun – extremely fun. Our only aim, in fact, was to have fun. Yet I glimpsed the possibilities, and I saw how valuable it is to collaborate with people of different ages.

Collaborate means “to work jointly or together.” Many people find it difficult to collaborate with anyone. So, when a person does have to collaborate, she or he attempts to find someone who is at least a similar age. The world is designed this way: in schools, kids are assigned to work with their classmates; in workplaces, adults must work with other adults; in nursing homes, elderly people plan escapes with other elderly people. Now, wouldn't it be nice to mix all of this up?

Maybe I just feel excited from my successful experience with G, but I think that collaboration between adults and Tweens and Teens is the future! Maybe I've just been supported by some opportunistic people who believe in equality, but I think there are lots of these people. Amazing things are waiting to happen, and I'm not going to let a difference in birthday candles obstruct anything.

So, post a comment. What do you think about collaborating with someone older than you? Or younger than you? On the same note, have you ever worked with someone who is at least five years older or younger than you? If you ask your parents about their experiences, remind them that a 37 year old working with a 32 year old does not count. Still, what do they think?

Have a good week!

Zachary