Annika has decided she is going to write with me. She has a sparkly notebook and she wants to write three acrostic poems on a single topic each day. Yesterday, she did animals, and today, she is doing birds. I think it’s a great idea… in theory. I want her to get into writing more, and when I was her age, I got into writing poetry, which then led to wanting to write more, and well, here I am. Here’s the thing, though: acrostic poems require her to think about words that don’t readily come to her mind, so she starts talking to me or asking me what words she should use.

For example, right now, she is measuring her pencil against the wire loops that bind her notebook, which wouldn’t be an issue, but she is narrating it for me and expecting me to look at it. She is trying to write an acrostic poem for “chicken,” which is her favorite animal right now. She told me that her birthday is “National Dance Like a Chicken Day.” I have not verified that fact, but it would be appropriate. She has three of the letters filled in: hen, I like chickens, and nest. She just realized that she could put cockadoodle doo for the C, but she doesn’t know how to spell it, so she is asking me how. She is asking for other words too. This is NOT conducive to my own clear writing.

I’m not going to stop her, because I’m so glad she is writing and we are sharing the time, which will not last forever. She wants to be part of what I do, and I don’t want to discourage her by being annoyed with her interruptions, even though it can be frustrating when I’m trying to stay focused. I want to include her and I want to encourage her. I’m doing it by modeling writing every day, and now I’m going to share the time with her.

So while she is on her acrostic-poem writing kick, my writing here is probably going to be choppy, maybe disjointed, or just not as focused as I’d probably prefer. Because I’m helping her find an appropriate word for the K in chicken.