This evening my writing student came over for haven. She had two scholarship essays due tomorrow, as well as an informative pamphlet on the gallbladder. While I had been working with her regarding the essays, I told her she could bring all her work and I would play the taskmaster.

I will admit that of late, when we have written, I have taken some time to enjoy her company rather than strictly writing the full time. However, I was fair great at setting goals and walking along side her as she plowed through her work.

One of the essays was on how she was a writer, with a humbling passage about the role I played in that process. In each essay, there were a couple of sentences that moved me in her ability to wield the written word.

In my novel, there is this character who really serves as the voice of wisdom. I like her. I really like some of the things that she has said. I just wonder where she gets it since I have not planned the pearls she has been dispensing. My student and I have never really talked about how it is for her as a writer, but for the most part, until my fingers hit the keys, I am unsure of what will appear on the screen.

Anyway, I prepared her dinner after she had worked for nearly an hour and then later rewarded her by cooking the chocolate chip cookies she had brought as an offering for the evening. When she left, both essays had been completed and the pamphlet was done as well.

My joy in the evening came in helping her reduce one of her essays from approximately 675 words to 500. Truly, applying myself to honing writing to that degree is exhilerating to me. She had to weigh the value of each and every word, evaluating again and again how they worked with the ones nearby and how they fit into the message as a whole. The task was a masterful one.

Her second essay had to be reduced by a mere nineteen words. You might think this one was easier, but in reality it was not. You see, my writing student had written with a completely different voice. The first was painting a reflective portrait of her Italian heritage. This was a straightforward commentary on the value of literacy and her choice of being an English major.

Still, the end result was two concise essays that were beautifully written...in the opinion of her writing teacher.

After six years, I shall sorely miss not playing a role in her literacy education. Yet I am also nearly giddy at the thought of how her mind and thus her abilities will expand with the challenges college will offer her.

Oh, how the world is truly her oyster...if only she dares to take it.