Christmas dinner

I've been writing alongside my Grade 6 students in their personal narrative unit. The Writing Workshop approach we use (from Columbia University's Teachers College Reading and Writing Project - TCRWP) encourages teachers to model writing for their students.

It's fun sharing writing with kids. I like the way they're so engaged by the fact that I am a writer, too. TCRWP cleverly encourages me to integrate particular skills into my writing just when students are ready to engage with them. In this story, I am writing about an event from my childhood - when I was about 10 - which I hope inspires students to think about similar times in their lives. We have been looking at how stories look to deeper themes to become more powerful. The kids told me they enjoyed this story but they want something a bit happier next time.

Christmas Dinner

My Uncle is holding the goose by its feet. It's upside-down and it's strangely calm as its head weaves around like an inquisitive snake. My uncle walks towards my father who is standing near the woodpile with the axe in his hand. I stand watching from the corner of the garden. My cousin stands beside me, quietly sobbing.

"Stop it," shouts my cousin, Andy. "You can't kill it." 

 My Uncle keeps walking.

"Quiet Andy," he says, "settle down."

He reaches the woodpile where my dad is waiting. Taking hold of the goose's head, he stretches its neck across the chopping block.

I turn away looking towards the other corner of the garden where two more geese have backed themselves against the fence. After the noise and flapping wings and running and hissing that accompanied our efforts to catch the first goose, their quiet watchfulness seems unsettling. 

I think back to when the geese arrived a week ago. Dropped off by a local farmer who wanted to give my father a Christmas present - something to say thank you for looking after his sick wife. Dad wasn't home of course. He'd arrive home late from the hospital and greet my mother in the usual way:

"Sorry I'm late, honey, been off saving lives."

I look again at the two geese in the corner watching my father.

It's Christmas tomorrow, but my cousin is quietly sobbing.