By Pernille Ripp
I became disillusioned with traditional peer editing a few years back after I had once again spent a long time coming up with a specific checklist for students to work through in order to help them strengthen their writing. I think this was my 10th version of said checklist, a list that was specific in its purpose, supposedly easy to follow, and exactly what we were working on. Almost every single student pairing blasted through the list and turned to me proudly to tell me that it all looked good, that they had now produced their very best draft, and that surely, there was nothing else they needed to fix.
And yet…when I inevitably peered over their shoulder, I saw the same mistakes. The same missed opportunities for discussion about their writing. Depsite the checklist. Despite all of my careful planning.
LINK: con’t Pernille Ripp’s blog
By Kyleigh Leddy
“Don’t worry,” reads the cover photo of my sister’s Facebook page. “Everything is going to be amazing.”
The words, in neon blue, green and red, glow from the screen as a kind of preternatural promise, a message from beyond. When I’m feeling stressed, I click on her profile, gaze at that image and take a deep breath.
People leave notes, messages and pictures on her page. They say, “I miss you,” “I love you” and “I’m thinking about you.” They can’t leave flowers, but they do leave animated hearts.
Sometimes they even travel through time by responding to a comment of hers from years before, and a certain magic is created — the conversation extending across a bridge of years, transcending her absence. The page facilitates a continuation, an afterlife.
On Facebook, my sister’s words are preserved, frozen like a photograph. And her photographs remain, too, marking the stages of her young life. You can view them chronologically, scrolling to see a giggling girl in a pink Patagonia fleece become an 18-year-old model with a disposable camera and a goofy smile.
LINK: NY Times