Winding Down

As the school year winds down, I always seem to get madly busy and this year is no exception. Besides preparing next year's book order (a job I honestly relish but find frustrating because my wants always exceed my budget), preparing my supply order, chasing down overdue books from kids and trying to conduct some kind of an inventory while maintaining a full schedule of classes (because they won't give us time for inventory anymore), one thing we all must do now is to write about our end of the reflections. Ugh!

It used to be we simply jotted down a few highlights from the past school year and that was that. Alas, that was in the good old days! Our end of the year reflections have since taken on a life of their own. In fact, it's now synonymous with the worst kind of essay exam - you know, the kind with the questions that make you squirm in your seat as you stare out the window and wrack your brain in an effort to find something semi intelligent to say. This was the first year I actually had to look up some things in a reference source. The more we get paid, it seems, the more they ask us to justify our worth. I understand, truly I do.

One thing we were asked to so this year was explain how we made a difference in the life of one student in particular. It was a tough, but good question, and I had to pause a while to ponder it. When you're a teacher, sometimes it's not always evident if you've reached your goals. You hope so, but you can't always be sure. When a carpenter builds a bookcase or a gardener plants a garden, he can step back and marvel over what he's accomplished by the sweat of his own brow. Even after a morning or an hour of writing, we have something we can see, something tangible to hold in our hands. But when you teach, you often walk away wondering if anything you said penetrated their gray matter.

When you work in a library, it's even harder. I see all the students in our building as well as about half the students in another building. My goal has always been to make readers of my students. I feel that a love for reading is the best recipe for success in school - perhaps even life.

So, here's the story I shared.

I had a student, a bright but rather neglected boy who often came to school a little grubby and tired. He often seemed sad, sometimes angry. Perhaps he had good reason to be. At any rate, this boy wasn’t reading and it seemed I couldn’t reach him,no matter how many great books I placed before him. One day, I put some new sports biographies on display. Those caught his eye. He stared at them for a few minutes before turning to ask me if he could take one out. “Of course,” I told him, “that’s what they’re for.” So he took out a book about Eli Manning. After he’d returned it, he asked if he could take out another. And then another. And so it went. I often put aside sports biographies for him that I thought he’d especially like. He always seemed grateful. Eventually, he ran through most of those so I suggested some novels about athletes, such as Thank-you, Jackie Robinson, by Barbara Cohen, and Heat, by Mike Lupica. After he ran through those, he decided to try something different. I got him to check out The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe which led him to the rest of C. S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia, and then other fantasies, mysteries,and some realistic stories about kids like him coping with difficult situations. Books won't necessarily solve anybody’s problems, but they can extend hope to them. By offering them a portal into other worlds, other lives, books can help light the way for children as they navigate their way along the thorny road to adulthood.

To teach is to touch a life and I hope that in some small way I have done that.

An Interview!

My crit partner, Heather Burnell, interviewed me for her blog, Frolicking Through Cyberspace. I have to admit, it's the first time I've ever been interviewed (not including the time the kindergartners interviewed me for a book about our school). It was a lot of fun. Thanks so much, Heather!

Here's the link. Please drop by and leave a comment.

http://frolickingthroughcyberspace.blogspot.com/

Crossing the Virtual Bridge

Last year I wrote an article about how composing poetry can help you improve your prose -- even if you never become a published poet or anything you write ever makes it out of your Word files or beyond the covers of your spiral-bound notebook. I called it "Verse-atility" and queried Stephen Mooser, editor of the SCBWI Bulletin, to see if he might be interested in publishing it. He was. After cutting the article down and revising it half a dozen times, I finally subbed it to him before I left for Chautauqua last July. He accepted it and my little article finally made it into the most recent May/June issue of the SCBWI Bulletin.

I haven't received my hard copy in the mail yet, but I can't wait! I know it's such a small thing but it's been many years since I've had anything published in a format I can hold in my hands. Why? Well, there was my job and then those busy years of raising our children, of shepherding them through soccer games, music lessons, track meets and homework sessions. Too many disruptions and excuses not to pursue my love of the written word. In fact, I don't think I've had anything truly "published" since my college days. I've had some poems published in ezines and online, but nothing in actual print form. Now I feel as though I've crossed some sort of bridge into the world of legitimacy. The last time I remember feeling this way when I turned 13 and finally became a true blue teenager. While cyberspace is an exciting frontier, it's one in flux, a format that's constantly evolving and changing. Websites spring up overnight and just as suddenly, they vanish. And when they vanish, you wonder sometimes if they even existed. Was it all just a dream?

There's something validating and reassuring about seeing something you wrote printed on paper - printed in a format you can actually hold, fold over and read as you ride the train into work or sip your morning cup of tea. My dad started out as a newspaper man - a journalist for a newspaper in England called The Manchester Guardian (now called simply The Guardian). At one time he subscribed to five different newspapers. Books, too, were such an integral part of my life that I had a hard time imagining life without them. For me, getting into "hard copy" is the ultimate litmus test, a sign that yes, what I wrote was important enough to print on something that will linger longer than a few nanoseconds of cyberspace time. I may embrace technology, but cherish the old fashioned world of the printed word.

Six Things On a Saturday

1. I'm so glad I got to accompany my husband to the Boston Marathon last Monday. Boston is a beautiful, clean city with great museums and galleries, fascinating historical sights and wonderful architecture. And the people of Boston were so terrifically supportive of the runners. People lined nearly foot of the route, clapping and shouting words of support. My husband said he drew a lot of energy from the crowds that helped sustain him through the 26.2 trek through the city (including Heartbreak Hill). Three cheers for Boston!!! And congratulations to my husband for his time of 3:49! That's a pr for him. I wish I could post a picture but my camera crapped out on me that day.

2. Exercise, I discovered long ago, is the best way of dealing with stress and the nasty knocks life sometimes deals you.

3. Spring is a time of rebirth and renewal and, despite some recent blows and disappointments, I am trying to look forward with my head held up like the daffodils.

4. When life gets tough, I think of Ernest Hemingway's philosophy of "grace under pressure" or courage. It's so easy to crumple in the face of adversity, much harder to do the right thing and carry on. My father had a friend, a writer named Bill Weatherby. They worked together at The Manchester Guardian in England and both of them, like so many other immigrants, eventually came to America in search of a better life. While my dad abandoned his writing career (he had a growing family to support, after all), Bill stuck to his. He covered the Civil Rights movement in the south during the 1950s for the NY Times, fell in love with a black woman and made no attempt to hide his love for her. When a group of southern white KKK members spotted him holding hands with her in public, they jumped him and brutally beat him. He knew the risks but refused to be bullied. Now I call that "grace under pressure".

5. This month is National Poetry Month. I've been receiving a poem a day in my email from Random House. What a delight! Here's one of my favorites by author Joyce Carol Oates. And yeah, I liked Elvis!

Waiting On Elvis, 1956

This place up in Charlotte called Chuck's where I
used to waitress and who came in one night
but Elvis and some of his friends before his concert
at the Arena, I was twenty-six married but still
waiting tables and we got to joking around like you
do, and he was fingering the lace edge of my slip
where it showed below my hemline and I hadn't even
seen it and I slapped at him a little saying, You
sure are the one aren't you feeling my face burn but
he was the kind of boy even meanness turned sweet in
his mouth.

Smiled at me and said, Yeah honey I guess I sure am.

6. And, here's another I loved by Brad Leithauser from his collection, Curves and Angles.

A Good List
(Homage to Lorenz Hart)

Some nights, can't sleep, I draw up a list,
Of everything I've never done wrong.
To look at me now, you might insist
My list could hardly be long,
But I've stolen no gnomes from my neighbor’s yard,
Nor struck his dog, backing out my car.
Never ate my way up and down the Loire
On a stranger's credit card.

I've never given a cop the slip,
Stuffed stiffs in a gravel quarry,
Or silenced Cub Scouts on a first camping trip
With an unspeakable ghost story.
Never lifted a vase from a museum foyer,
Or rifled a Turkish tourist's backpack.
Never cheated at golf. Or slipped out a blackjack
And flattened a patent lawyer.

I never forged a lottery ticket,
Took three on a two-for-one pass,
Or, as a child, toasted a cricket
With a magnifying glass.
I never said "air" to mean "err," or obstructed
Justice, or defrauded a securities firm.
Never mulcted—so far as I understand the term.
Or unjustly usufructed.

I never swindled a widow of all her stuff
By means of a false deed and title
Or stood up and shouted, My God, that's enough!
At a nephew’s piano recital.
Never practiced arson, even as a prank,
Brightened church-suppers with off-color jokes,
Concocted an archeological hoax—
Or dumped bleach in a goldfish tank.

Never smoked opium. Or smuggled gold
Across the Panamanian Isthmus.
Never hauled back and knocked a rival out cold,
Or missed a family Christmas.
Never borrowed a book I intended to keep.
. . . My list, once started, continues to grow,
Which is all for the good, but just goes to show
It's the good who do not sleep.

Poetry Book

Well, I guess it's now official. My poetry critique group, The Poet's Garage, is having a collection of their poems published by Marshall Cavendish sometime in 2010 and I'm thrilled to say at least two of my poems will be included in the collection!

Fourteen of us pulled together a collection of our poems and our two moderators and accomplished poets, Jennifer Judd and Laura Wynkoop, were truly the key to finally getting it accepted. They submitted it many times before Marshall Cavendish expressed an interest in picking it up. We knew it was an unusual and risky proposition but, despite the odds, Laura and Jen persisted and their diligence finally payed off. So, yay!!! We're thrilled about this project and can't wait to see our poems in print. All 14 of us will be represented (we were a little worried somebody would be left out).

I must say, I never imagined this project as my first published book but it's exciting. Hooray Poet's Garage!

How Do You Write?

When drafting a novel, the general recommendation is to sit yourself down someplace comfortable and write it straight through to the end in as short a time frame as possible - to get the damn story down, no matter how ugly it is, THEN go back and revise. I envy those who can do this, I really do, because I'm just not like that. I wish I were. It would make my writing life easier I suspect. I might even have my novel finished by now.

But no. I write, then backstitch and rework it. Then I write a little more, then backstitch and revise again. Sometimes I go waaaay back in the wayback machine to revise parts I wrote months ago - even segments I wrote last year. All the time, I'm still pressing forward toward the end. It just takes me longer.

Why write this way?

I think it's just the way I'm made. It's in my genetic makeup or something. In all our old family home movies taken during birthdays and Christmas, I'm the kid cleaning up. I wouldn't open the next present until I'd placed all the gift wrap and trimmings from the first present in a garbage bag. My sister claimed I had no fun. She ripped into everything with gusto.

I like all the underpinnings to be neat, without any bumps or wrinkles. When my husband "makes the bed" he just pulls the comforter up over the wrinkled sheet, plumps up the pillows a tiny bit and tosses them onto the bed in the general direction of the headboard. But not me. No, I have to smooth out the sheets until not a wrinkle shows and then make sure everything hangs evenly around all sides of the bed before I pull up the comforter and carefully arrange the pillows. Honestly, I wish I was different. My art instructor is always urging me to draw a little looser, not to grasp the pencil so firmly. But he can't change what he can't change.

So, how do you write? Are there any other anal retentive writers out there besides me?

Five Things On a Friday

Here are a few random thoughts.

1. My new principal thinks books will become obsolete in the future, although she didn't specify how far into the future she thinks this may happen. The thought horrifies me. There's still something very intimate and wonderful about holding a book - about nestling into bed with one or sharing a picture book with an enthusiastic group of first graders. You can take a book any place - to the beach, the doctor's waiting room, the airport terminal ...the unemployment line. Try plugging in your laptop in any of those places! I don't think books will ever become obsolete, no more than I think calculators will ever become a substitute for a solid knowledge of your math facts.

2. This winter has gone on long enough. Please, we need a sign of spring - a crocus or something! I still have a foot of snow in my yard. Ugh.

3. I was pleased to see a lot of teens in the YA section of Border's a few weeks ago. I heard a mother telling her daughter, "This time, don't leave it in your backpack." She was referring to her daughter's copy of Twilight. Somebody had apparently stolen it. Does this elevate books to the status of iPods and iphones? While I don't like thieves any more than the next person, I like the idea of somebody wanting a book that bad. It gives me hope, in a weird way.

4. My husband started remodeling the bathroom off our bedroom. The floors are coated with a fine gray dust and our bathroom vanity is sitting smack in the middle of my bedroom. Fortunately we have another bathroom we can use until this one is finished.

5. My eldest son is losing his job. Today is his last day and so far he has no job prospects. He is looking, however. Anybody have any job leads for a hard working, punctual, smart, literate college grad on Long Island? He does not want to sit around collecting unemployment.

Happy Friday!