For my Honey

Which Reminds Me . . .

Obviously JK Rowling has enough money.

The whole stunt at Carnegie Hall that she pulled by announcing that Dumbledore is gay! He may or may not be, and frankly I don't care.

However, I am assuming there were children at her reading. The account I read, made the announcement seem non-provoked, just an answer to a question about whether Dumbledore will find his true love. When my seventh grade son heard the news he was outraged.

A back story like that is fine for an author to have and it probably gives the character some depth and mysteriousness of motivation that works very well, but since the fact had no place in the novels, it has no place in official, author led discussion outside of the novels either.

Rowling has forgotten what her readers are going through. The Potter series appeals to readers of all levels. Students who won't read any book will at least give the Potter books a try. She has now taken a book that students have sought out to read as "cool" on at least some level and has given that student another excuse not to read. Imagine our not so hypothetical student taking this book out to read in front of their equally alliterate friends to hear, "Why are you reading that? Dumbledore is gay!" and down the book will go.

You've made your money, JK. And you are probably looking for new things to talk about because you have been discussing these books for years, and you surely have an active and creative mind, but this tidbit was a really bad choice to reveal. And as far as I can see, revealing some back story to a character's profile that did not even make it into the book does nothing for toterance. It just causes another sensation and fans the flames of ignorance.

Oh, well.

Wild Girl Howling at the Halloween Moon

It is Halloween again soon. Yay! One of my favorite holidays. Getting rather pissed though.

Maybe Halloween wasn't the greatest holiday when I was a kid. I sure thought it was. You went to school in your costume. You came home and trick or treated from the moment your mother would let you out until way after dark. (If you were lucky and the weather wasn't so horrible you couldn't go out at all, or so cold you had to wear your coat over you costume. (How lame can you be, Mom!)

I just received my kid's school newsletter. Luckily, they will still be having a Halloween parade and party. I know quite a few communities have canceled theirs, so I'm glad that still stands. But this year the newsletter came with express requests for no scary masks or costumes. I guess you might need some background to understand how I feel about that request.

My son is in fourth grade. For most of his life he has been afraid to wear a mask or even go down the Halloween aisle with masks. This year (in September, no less) he demanded that I take him to the party store so that he could purchase his costume: a scary, bloody, rotting zombie. I was so proud because he asked for what he wanted and has taken such big steps toward overcoming his fears.

So here I sit, knowing how the karma train runs for me. If I tell the boy that he can't wear his costume, or he can only wear the clothes (which still have rotting flesh visible) 7 other boys will have the same costume and will wear it without any consequences. If I count on that and tell him to wear the costume and damn the Man, he will call me from the principal's office.

My son is still afraid of clowns. Can I demand that all students planning to come to school dressed as clowns be asked to refrain? I know a lot of people are freaked out by clowns so I would be doing everyone a favor, right?

Or I could just learn to deal with myself and let others be and do what they want?

Hmm.

It makes a person almost want to take the school up on their offer to send him to their "awesome library" to read a book or play on the computer during the Halloween festivities. Except then they would mistake me for someone else.

Just getting tired of all the watering down and catering to the timid and the vanilla among us. It strips life of its flavor.

How did I ever survive my childhood?

Sometimes I feel like I have done wrong

Sometimes I feel like I have done my children a dis-service by raising them to believe that people are to respect each other, have empathy for each other, and behave properly toward each other. Because then they go to school.

There they meet the real world. They discover that people will hurt you for no reason. They would rather shove you out of the way than wait their turn when the goal is desirable. They will speak out of turn and put you down to make themselves feel better.

None of this is news.

My home is a safe haven. On the bus the kid that sits next to my nine-year-old calls him a "Mother Fucker" and another little girl tells him "suck my dick." We don't know who these children are so we can't complain. When I complain to the bus driver, my son tells me that he announces to all the children on the bus the next day that they should not mention what happens on the bus because it gets him in trouble. I tell my son the man is a bully and kids should never trust adults that tell them to keep secrets from their parents. He begs me not to complain again.

I have a dream that if I raise young men that know how to treat other people, I will contribute some decency to the world. I just don't know how to protect them from the fact that the world does not live up to the goals that we aim for. How do I give them armor, but make sure they remain open and peaceable?

What is Going On Around Here?

I scratched my cornea with my contact the other day. I am the kind of person who believes that I am a weakling and a whiner, so I would not give in to the high amount of discomfort that I felt when inserting my left contact on Thursday morning. As I toughed my way through the day, adjusting and readjusting my contact, I did a real number on myself.

The doctor was able to see it with the dye and the funky light. He described it as a small but deep cut on the center of my cornea. (The attached graphic is not picture of my eye, but I think it is pretty dramatic so I'm using it.)

I had been a "big, brave, dog" until then but I absolutely melted down upon hearing the news. As I sat crying into my Honey's shoulder, my main concern was not the damage to my eye. (Well, not directly.) It was with the possibility that I might never be able to wear my contacts again.

You see this year I have become extremely vain. My glasses easily add ten years to my face, and I can't handle that. So my contacts are a Godsend and a real boost to my self confidence.

No one ever said that knowing I was forty would affect me so much. I always thought age was just a number, but I am constantly having to fight stereotypes of what is proper for a woman my age. What is that all about and when did that start? And why can't I make it stop?

I look great most of the time, especially when I have my contacts in. My Honey is 10 years younger than I am. I am progressive, adventurous, and fun. So how did I end up worried about being so old?

An Astounding Proposal

I wonder what education would be like if teachers were given a paid sabbatical every four years?

I was just pondering the idea after my son, who is in the fourth grade, announced that he hates to read (when what he really means is he doesn't want to read this particular book at this particular moment).

However, that announcement, after spending the day with several individuals who feel the same and are very unafraid to state their opinions on the matter, seems to basically negate who I am and what I stand for. And I don't have the energy to deal with it. All I want to do is cry, not teach my son the strategies I taught his older brother when he was in fourth grade and none of his teachers was rising to the occasion.

I have been told that one of my strengths as a teacher is my great faith that all my students can do a particular skill. They just haven't been shown the proper reason to do it yet. But today I stand contemplating the fact that maybe I should just stop paying attention to the more reticent and belligerent students that tax my soul and send them to sit in the corner staring at the back wall, while I conduct class with my more eager students. Then maybe I would be able to stand up when my own 9 year old announces that everything that I stand for is everything that makes his life horrible.

I want to shout, "My children do NOT hate to read! I am a writer and an English teacher and you are not even allowed to pretend that you have that attitude!"

I believe that graphic novels are pathways to literacy, and my son loves graphic novels, but my arteries are starting to harden, and I am beginning to want to scream, and dig my feet in, and demand that literacy be achieved by my dictates. . . And that is exactly where I will fail.

That is why I believe that teachers should be given a paid sabbatical every four years. One can only take four years of emotional attack before one begins to harden and begins to perceive all students as the same. Before I decide that I must give in to the adversarial game that so many have made the school system into: resistant students force fed by teachers who no longer believe that anyone knows the joy of learning. If we teachers had one year in which it was mandatory to sit and intellectually rejuvenate, it might keep us all pliable and remind us that we love what we are doing and are here because we (hopefully) have answered a higher calling.

I am crazy and Utopian most of the time, but it just might work

Chuck Vs. Reaper

Here's something edgy: Fall TV

Ever think that Chuck and Reaper are very close to the same program with some names changed and situations slightly altered?

A slacker who still lives with his parents and works a dead end job at a ______ super store becomes embroiled in a situation he could not avoid (possesses limitless government secrets/has had his soul sold to the Devil) that requires him to perform at levels that he had previously not considered possible to save the world (one national crisis/demonic soul at a time).

I know you all (and by you all, I mean me) realized this. I'm not terribly insightful to have figured it out. I enjoy both shows. They give me a break from all my medical shows and titillating relationship series. They remind me of whatever impulse brought us The Greatest American Hero so many years ago. Someone I know called Reaper: Buffy before it went bad and started taking itself too seriously.

I give Kevin Smith his props (do we say props anymore?) for portraying the slacker life style and the low key humor, but I like the wacky (I'll get better with my adjectives someday. . . I hope.) Mission Impossible moments in Chuck too.

So I'm still wishy washy. Not truly strong enough? I like them both what can I say? Looking forward to watching Pushing Daisies later this week.

What is Wrong With Me?

I don't know what's wrong with me.

I have no energy for anything right now. I am dizzy and I don't want to move.

Someone at work was sure I had suffered the loss of a loved one and was relieved to discover that my woes were merely physical.

My woes involve the fact that I am. . .

Why did I start this? Just to complain? I don't think so.

I am quite sure I wanted to explore deep and meaningful issues. I just can't remember what they are. I wanted to talk about stuff that might get me in trouble like sex and sexuality. I wanted to verbally live on the edge, but all I can think to discuss are my own petty problems with someone who won't matter after June.

This numbness in my brain really is getting to me.