Sitting at the District 47 TransLit Conference, Jennie Magiera challenged her limited students to a seven-day technology challenge. I happen to be one of those attentive students who embraces a challenge and sets off to accomplish goals immediately, and on that day, I was Jenny’s student. With just a few uninterrupted moments before the chaos of the 2014-15 school year would begin, I set forth and began a blog on an interface I had previously been acquainted, Word Press.
Exploring this fairly-easy-to-use website and templates intrigued me. Simply to begin, I wrote the post. Writing words that expressing my enthusiasm of this new beginning wasn’t too difficult, but the thought of knowing that others would be reading my work hovered around me. All the just-right emotional and descriptive words became a little more difficult to find, and I realized that I must consider my audience. An audience, an audience I had never met suddenly presented me with the challenge and inspiration of choosing purposeful and more powerful words.
Chosen words began the process, but the choice of templates distracted me from publishing immediately. Oh, was this fun?! I clicked on several templates trying to distinguish sometime slight differences in what the actual view of the reader would be. Enjoying the ability to add photos, links, color, and specific font styles, I created several styles searching for mine. Having grown-up in an artistic family, but ever the “analytical one,” the Word Press options to personalize and beautify my canvas simplified my task, and in doing the work, I played until my masterpiece stared back at me.
With my masterpiece and the tiniest bit of confidence, I published, Journey to My Library’s first post, Finding Little Inspirations Towards Perpetual Motion. Honestly, I tapped a few family and friend’s names into the “email this post” link and hoped for the best. Family responded with texts, but what Jenny nearly promised did not happen. Comments were not to be had. Back into the studio of creativity, I searched the settings, the comments section, the choices, and other menu options until I found the “I’d love to hear from you,” link at the bottom of that first post. Hooray! With a risk-taking breath, I clicked, “Public,” and allowed an uncharacteristic vulnerability to emerge. Her comment signified success on that day, and with giddy anticipation, I looked forward to many more.