When I was 8 years old, I went to London for a month with my dad, who enrolled me in a public school around the
corner from the apartment we stayed in. (In London, they say "state school" for what we call a public school. And what they call a "public school" is a fancy private school. When I was 8, this confused me.)
corner from the apartment we stayed in. (In London, they say "state school" for what we call a public school. And what they call a "public school" is a fancy private school. When I was 8, this confused me.)
My third-grade teacher in New York, Ms. Rosenfeld, asked me to keep a diary while I was away. I liked Ms. Rosenfeld, but I did not want to write in a diary.
I did, though. Here is a picture of my London diary, along with a sample page. (While there may be such a thing as a "born writer," I am clearly not one of them.)
Comments
I do think you were trying to fill the page, though. I mean, was it really a long, long, long, long walk? :-)
I love "...so we went somewhere else." Done and done. Kids.