To Read List...

The Wasafiri list:

1 The Famished Road by Ben Okri
2 Collected Poems by Elizabeth Bishop
3 Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain by Peter Fryer
4. Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry by Mildred D Taylor
5 The Stories of Raymond Carver by Raymond Carver
6 The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolaño
7. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez
8 North by Seamus Heaney
9 A House for Mr Biswas by VS Naipaul
10 Birthday Letters by Ted Hughes
11 Palace of the Peacock by Wilson Harris
12 River of Fire by Quarratulain Hyder
13 Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
14 Philosophical Investigations by Ludwig Wittgenstein
15 Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie
16 Disgrace by JM Coetzee
17 Dreams from My Father by Barack Obama
18 The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje
19 Collected Poems by Allen Ginsberg
20 Anil's Ghost by Michael Ondaatje
21 One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez
22 Sula by Toni Morrison
23 The Private Life of Chairman Mao by Dr Li Zhisui
25 The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie

Why I Hate Cell Phones

I’m not averse to technology by any means and I like the usefulness of the cell phones, but if I see one more person with a cell phone attached to his or her ear I’m going to scream. Don’t get me wrong—I see the usefulness of having a portable phone. It’s fantastic. I love knowing that if I’m driving down the interstate I can call Triple A for service, make arrangements with relatives, or reach my employer on the road.

But do I need to walk into the local greasy spoon chatting it up with my Aunt Zoe in Wisconsin in my phone voice? You know, pause to give my order, then resume the conversation so the rest of my listening audience can relish the tidbits of my dramatic (and very important) life.

I can understand touching base with someone, making arrangements, or plans . . . whatever. But once I stood in line behind a guy telling a friend "Hey, did you know that Bob got engaged and he’s so happy and he proposed to . . . ." Okay . . . this is one of those calls better made at home. And here’s an example of a recent profound conversation overhead at Barnes and Noble:

"Yeah, I caught two perch."

"Nice."

"Nice."

"Nice."

"Nice."

And it went on like that four ten minutes. Gawd!

I don’t know about you, but I enjoy my privacy and use it to screen out the incoming barrage of input. How can you listen to a friend productively if you are paying for your greasy spoon meal or bagging up your potatoes at grocery store while dodging shopping carts? You can’t. I sound so curmudgeonly. I’m not.

I love the entire cell phone culture—and that’s what it is. A cult. As part of the cult, they show extreme submission to a crazy and unpredictable demigod: The cell phone. I enjoy watching people answer their cells doing the cell phone epileptic fit/dance (at least for us women with large purses). Receipts and lipstick, flying out in all directions to get the damn phone lodged underneath a paperback. The cult of the cell phone requires users acquire the special phone language (uh hunh? Ya ya ya ok ok ok ya ya ya). And texting? Wat. r u ok? Brb. Ttyl and k—the new minimalist language devoid of vowels, yet phonetically correct.

The devotion bestowed onto a cell phone even bleeds into a cult member’s everyday life. Take eating out for example. In many cases the cell phone is lovingly set upon the table to view the owner’s meal. Many cell phone owners lovingly hold their cell phone in their hands and stare at them for lengthy periods of time, mesmerized by their features. This little god in a plastic coated box can vibrate, ring and sing to you—even vibrate in your pants (And what other god can do this? Hunh? Nada).

It seems as though in our society, the cell phone has become a socially acceptable and fashionable prop. As families spread out and people move away from home, we become increasingly disconnected from family and friends. The cell phone gives us the impression of being close to others. It can also alert people that we are important and have very weighty matter to discuss that absolutely cannot wait, even if we are shopping alone.

Jane Eyre: The Final Reading

I admit it I’m a sucker for Victorian literature. If the women are repressed, the men ultra polite (with dirty minds and ulterior motives), and beautiful silk gowns are involved, well, I’m hooked.
Let me tell you my story and relationship with Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte.

I’ve always been a book addict, even at a young age so it’s no wonder I was ecstatic when my mom announced she was volunteering at my rural Catholic school to be the librarian. Of course this meant I had access to "the" library and better yet unshelved books not yet touched by human hands. That was a delicious thought for me.

So every week Mom loaded up the car with books that needed to be catalogued and stamped and Dad would haul the books into our living room. Mom dragged a sickly green portable typewriter home to type the cards for the books, and stationed it at the kitchen table. That old rickety thing would cluh clunk at the shift keys and the keys would stick, but it served its purpose.

Every so often the books would escape from captivity and burrow their way into the cracks of our car seats. And if you had the uniseat—as in the old days—it was easy to lose one of them forever. Not so with Jane Eyre. She managed to stay right within reach so as never to be forgotten or lost from our grasp.

Each morning my dad drove me to school and often in our travels we found a loose book on the floor or the uniseat. One particular frosty morning, as I was tugging my coat close toward me while the defroster blasted the windshield, I found myself sitting on Jane Eyre. It was a small compact paperback with a red and blue cover. I pulled it out from the uniseat and inspected it, scrunching my eye-year-old eyes at the tiny print inside. As soon as I touched it I knew I had to read the book—it became my personal Moby Dick of sorts. I had to read it—it was challenge.

"Dad?" I yelled over the defroster, "How do you pronounce the last name?"

"I have no idea."

So it stuck with me the entire day. I couldn’t let it out of my mind, and when Mom picked me up after school I told her about the book.

"Mom, it’s Jane Ire or something."

"No, it’s Jane Aiir."

"Oh, what’s it about?"

"Well, you’re a little too young to read the book," she smirked and laughed. "In time."

"But I have to read this book!" I whined. So each day on the way to school I picked up Jane Eyre and tried trudging my way through the murky text. I sighed. I was vexed. I gave up.
I flung Jane Eyre back to its spot in the uniseat and only later did I take it inside and throw in the pile of books in the living room. Farewell friend. Maybe I’ll see you again.

And I did. It’s amazing what four years can do to a kid’s reading comprehension and mine had blossomed. I was reading the usual trashy teenage stuff with typical romantic plots, maligned friendships, and broken hearts. But I was bored, and lucky for me my teachers recognized this and made a list of "challenging books". Of course, wedged in between a myriad of selections was my beloved Jane Eyre. I squeezed my eyes in delight. My mom and I ventured to the public library (of course, the school library didn’t have these exotic books), and she proudly displayed the xeroxed book list to the librarian who was rather nonplussed with the importance of this mission. Armed with loads of library knowledge my mom and I weaved our way around the library to find the books. I would have taken all the books home, with my addiction and all, but instead I settled for two: Jane Eyre and Jonathan Livingston Seagull.

Jane Eyre was my hero. She had all the elements of the perfect female hero: the nasty stepmother and cousins who wanted her abolished from the house, the lack of siblings, the self-righteous and uptight Mr. Brocklehurst, forced and unwanted lessons, nasty teachers, poor living and working conditions, the ache of loneliness, and love of books. Page after page I read the inner musings and opinions of a character (and writer) who shared my inner thoughts and feelings. I was amazed at this. And then came Mr. Rochester—I fell in love with him immediately. He was crusty, funny, sarcastic, smart, and amorous. At twelve, I thought he was a dream come true. (Only later did I realize this would precursor my love of older men). Of course, it also took me 27 years to figure out that Jane Eyre is pathetic and Mr. Rochester (Edward) is crazy.

You have to understand, reader, that I read Jane Eyre seven times. Once at 12, again in 10th grade, next in 12th grade, both as a freshman and senior in college, again during some dark days of my life, and lastly this past month. It took me seven times to realize that all these years I had idealized Mr. Rochester and honored Jane Eyre for the silliest things. Now it is time to move on.
Jane Eyre grew up unwanted and unloved, so it makes perfect sense that she would fall hopelessly in love the minute she was around a kind male figure. He was the only male figure she was around . . . other than her dopey cousin and the towering Mr. Brocklehurst.

Mr. Rochester is an experienced, spoiled man. While it is true he married a crazy woman and I guess we are to pity him (are we? She was akin to a mail order bride), and this brings humanity to his character. But how he describes Adele, the child who he denies fathering, is cruel and harsh. Wouldn’t a future mother or wife recognize his jealousy and possessiveness? He sounds like a crazy womanizer, scrounging the countryside for a pretty accoutrement to his collections and drawing room. Why does he settle with Jane Eyre—the plain and naïve girl with no dowry or connections?

First of all, as an experienced hunter, he knows she is naïve, young, and impressionable. Second he’s desperate, after all he’s getting quite old at the age of 34 not to be married in Victorian England. And finally, to his credit, I think he’s trying to find a sincere woman who is not interested in his money and land. He is also hiding a crazy wife in the attic . . . so Mr. Rochester has issues. And what better person to help him than a young, sweet thing cut off from humanity in an out of the way place like Thornfield?

But it was those exact qualities about him that drew me to him all these years. He tortures her with his wit and corners her into verbal battles. He parades Blanche Ingram around, making Jane think he is going to marry her when in fact he has no whatsoever of marrying Blanche Ingram. Mr. Rochester poses as a gypsy lady torturing Jane into thinking he is seeing her past and knows her future. Then he unveils himself. His crazy wife in the attic makes a guest appearance every so often . . . attempting to murder Jane or Mr. Rochester . . . and maybe both. Of course how could I forget that he actually tried to marry her when he was still married to his syphilitic wife in the attic. Any sane woman would run from this childish man. But not Jane. She’s a trooper.

She endures this treatment with aplomb . . . always enduring his torture quietly. That’s why I think she’s pathetic. Every single time he sets her up and she falls for it. He knows she is in love with him, and he watches her writhe in glee, yet Jane doesn’t think to fight back. Though when she finds out about his past, she does run . . . more out of sadness than revenge. My favorite pathetic part was when she was about to accept St. John’s marriage proposal and she claims to hear Rochester call her name in the night . . . and drops everything to run to him. As a diehard romantic, even I thought that scene was barfy and pathetic.

Don’t get me wrong—Charlotte Bronte created an early feminist character that voiced fresh ideas about women and society. And Mr. Rochester was a smart enough man to value a woman for those same sentiments. Yet, it was the Victorian era. Martyrs aren’t valued today and often their woes are pointless. It is time for me to close the pages of this book in hopes that I will find my own Mr. Rochester (without the sadism) and be the Jane Eyre I wanted her to be—without the martyrdom. Jane Erye will always be my hero, but now it is time to be my own.

I'm a Loser, Baby, So Why Don't You Kill Me

It only happens about . . . oh once every twenty years or so that I win something. I mean I was competing against other people and I was randomly selected to win. It's not the same as those silly scratch-off tickets in which you win--another ticket--or $2.00 (to buy more tickets).

Let me set the scene for you . . .

The ad: Instead of treating the one you love to the typical dinner-and-a-movie fare this Valentine's Day, why not think outside the box of chocolates and enjoy a night out with the romantic sounds of ________?

I thought, what the hell--I'll never win. I never win. I'm a loser, baby. I click-clacked my personal information in the boxes imagining all the possible suitors who may be available (that would be none). But believing (slightly) in the law of attraction, I imagined that if I will those tickets into my life, perhaps I can will a date as well. Psychosis talking. Now imagine my consternation when I received a call earlier today informing me that I won. Two tickets.

And do I still want them? Yes, of course (I'm still hopeful and psychotic).

Pick them up at 7:00; the show starts at 8:00.

Why yes, it's a romantic rendezvous--and the show isn't until Saturday. Surely with my romantic life being at a all time high, I will find a date, right? Yes, sitting here in my house I will find a date. I WILL myself a date; I can send vibes out to the tri-state area imploring unsuspecting single men that I want to go to the concert and not ask my mom or best friend instead. You see, I avoid Valentine's Day. I imagine it doesn't exist. It's reserved for "others"--I, on the other hand, am an unwilling spectator.

And now, Monday night . . . I think oh I'm a loser baby. I should have said, hey give them to a happily and joyously in love couple, more deserving than I. I can't stomach going by myself or with friends.

My plan: Wednesday I will call and tell them to please give those tickets to a couple. I will listen to the CD and get wasted on chocolate. Bah.

Wanted: Dry Cleaning Attendants with No Sense of Humor

I've tried eliminating dry cleaning from my day to day life simply because it's bad for the environment and it's expensive. But once in a while even I need some help from the experts to clean a large item or a badly soiled one. While I'm not an expert by any means when it comes to the appropriate tools and items needed for cleaning, I DO know when something sounds like bullshit and I feel the urge to poke out my eardrums with an icepick.

Here is the scene: Me rolling up an oversized queen-sized comfortable into a small enough roll so that it can fit into a garbage bag. After about ten minutes of meticulous rolling and stuffing, I finally crammed the cloth penis into an enormous, but flimsy condom. I couldn't help but look at the thing and laugh. It was obscene. I felt like I should be clothed at all times around that short, stout monster standing at attention in my dining room.

When I finally had a enough guts to take the thing out in public, I threw it in the trunk and drove merrily away, glad to be rid of such an eyesore.

But my troubles were not over.

As I rolled up to the dry cleaners I had a bad feeling about this comforter. I mean I had vacuumed the cat hair off it the week before--it wasn't too bad. The cat puked on it earlier this week--I cleaned it up--no problem. I flopped the unsightly beast onto the counter and said that I needed it dry cleaned.

--What size is it?
--It's a queen.
--I'm going to rip the bag [huffing] I'm not sure if I can get it off.
--It's okay if you rip the bag; I'm going to throw it away.
--Is there anything on it that needs to come off?

[processing, no, I just bring things in randomly just for the hell of it; as a matter of fact, I went down the street to your competitor and had it dry cleaned PRIOR to my coming here so that there would be nothing on it. I can see how swamped you are with business.]

--Well, yes, there's cat hair on it--
--[interrupting] Cat hair? Well, let me look at that cat hair because we I can't send it over with cat hair.

[processing . . . umm why the hell not--this IS a cleaning business, no? And does that not entail cleaning the crap that happens to get stuck on pieces of material?]

--Well, I cleaned off most of the cat hair, but there still is some cat hair on it.
--I have to check this to see how much cat hair is on there [huffing]. [After the inspection] Well, I don't normally send things over there with >>this much cat hair.<<
--Okay, well just do what you need to do [cracking up here].
--There is just TOO much cat hair.
--Umm well that's why I brought it here . . . to get some help getting the cat hair off the comforter.
--Is there anything else on it?
--[having fun here] Well, actually the cat puked on it as well.
--Cat puke? We don't clean up cat puke.
--I cleaned up the cat puke, but there may be a slight spot that needs to be cleaned.
--[She gives me simmering stare] Well, when do you want this?
--When can I have it done?
--How about next Thursday?
--Umm . . . wouldn't you like my name and phone number?
--Oh yeah, [like it's an afterthought] well, what it is it?

[Okay, by this point I'm ready to die laughing. Customer service rating on a scale from 1-10--about a 2. The joy of pissing off an anal retentive buster on a scale of 1-10---10.]

I can only imagine what I'm going to hear from this woman when I come and pick it up.

Eats, Shoots & Leaves

Why Punctuation Matters

Currently I'm reading Lynne Truss's Eats, Shoots & Leaves, a book-length rant about shoddy punctuation practices both in the US and UK. I, too, am a reluctant stickler. I have muted my stickler voice over the years simply because no one likes to be corrected, no one likes a know-it-all, and not many people truly understand what the hell you are talking about anyway! Here is an example of a flyer I found wedged in between the door frame and screen door of my front house. It appears as though it was typed on a computer. Yeah for him!! But unfortunately the poor chap failed to recognize those little wavy red lines and green lines clearly shouting out to the typist using MS Word that there is something amiss!

PLUM ST. SNOW REMOVAL

(Okay so far.)

ONE MAN ONE BLOWER

(Catchy--that's why I called to get more info.)

RESDINTAL SIDEWALKS AND DRIVEWAYS

(This is when my eyes started to cross.)

Mr. Winter is here and your saying to yourself man I

(Yes, this is a saying I often say.)
(I don't call myself, man, since I'm a woman.)

don't want to shovel that snow today.

What do I do?

I got it,I got it. I'll call Chris. He's right around the coner

(Ahh the comma-period! A newly invented form of punctuation!)
(Is it that an orange coner; the pylon thingy?)

and up the street. Highly afford in these hard times. So I

(Forded a stream? River? Affordable?)

say stay warm and let me work for you. One rate and

the price will never change.

For more info Call

(Capitals always make something look more important.)

xxx-xxx-xxxx ask for Chris

Quality work for a low price___

(Technically the writer has not taken a breath here . . .
he could be turning blue or dead as we speak.)

Wars at Work: When in Doubt, Be Switzerland

from Infoplease . . .

Strict neutrality was its policy in both world wars. Geneva was the seat of the League of Nations (later the European headquarters of the United Nations) and of a number of international organizations.

On Sept 10, 2002, the Swiss abandoned their long-held neutrality to become the 190th member of the UN.

International disputes: none

Possibly crazy? Perhaps impossible? Politically naive and idealistic?

Being neutral in the face of major changes, upheavals, and warring factions at work can possibly be a poor or brilliant political move depending upon the circumstances. In one regard, either side could see you as a potential threat because they don't know exactly where you stand regarding an issue (are you for me or against me?). On the other hand, the fact that you didn't take a strong stand or move to one side shows that you are more flexible and willing to listen to both parties. And unfortunately, both sides could see you as snooty, selfish, or just disengaged, perhaps looking for another job (or in the case of Switzerland, counting the money in your bank accounts).

The bottom line comes down to this: you must do what keeps you employed and allows you to continue doing what you love. I love my job; I don't like all aspects of it, but I want to keep it. Furthermore, I am extremely busy: what matters right now in my situation is to keep afloat and keep teaching my students. I have opinions and I will voice them when I have the time to fight that battle, but right now, I have absolutely no fight in me. In addition, taking a strong stand against someone who is still your boss can be very uncomfortable to say the least. No matter what, your boss (unless he or she is a brutal despot--and I've worked for those nuts) is still someone you turn to for support and guidance. Do you really want to ruin that relationship?

It's all very complicated. So I play Switzerland. I see the merits of both sides and listen to their views. I state my personal opinion directly and unemotionally; sometimes playing devil's advocate; yet I commiserate with them regarding their concerns with the situation. I guess, there really is no artifice in this, though it may seem that way. I don't necessarily make a game plan, but a neutrality plan so that I can concentrate on what I love most (teaching) and keep away from the land mines. So perhaps this isn't so much neutrality as "selective backing" --I pick and choose the issues that I agree and disagree with to support or nix.

I have found over the years that it actually requires more skill and work to take this side, but in the long run I feel less drained and sapped of energy. I also have a stronger sense of self, and self-respect. I have not betrayed how I feel and have honored my needs and beliefs first and foremost. So . . . I feel less fragile and worn out. Something has to be said about self preservation and keeping one's eye on the larger picture. By maintaining some distance I can see the issue more clearly.

"No Dentist Left Behind"

John Taylor, retired superintendent of schools in Lancaster, SC, offers this history of the essay which he wrote while leading that district:

"The parody was originally titled 'Absolutely the Best Dentists.' It was written and sent to every newspaper and legislator in South Carolina a number of years ago in an attempt to point out the absurdities inherent in South Carolina's then new accountability act which was focused on 'absolute' performance and threatened retention for every child who couldn't meet very challenging grade level standards. (Not to mention severe penalties for 'poorly performing' schools, teachers ands administrators.) Since then it has traveled widely to the point that I have not been able to keep up with the uses; but I know it has appeared in teacher association publications in at least three Canadian Provinces and in Australia, as well as dozens in the USA. The No Child Left Behind Act (NCLB) seems to have given the story a new life."

Thus: No Dentist Left Behind.

http://www.trelease-on-reading.com/no-dentist.html

Going for Baroque and Loving It

Recently through Pandora.com I discovered these two CDs from the "Baroque" station I created. Wow. Andrew Manze plays the classical baroque style violin for both selections and his performance and interpretation of the music is amazing and stunning. I never heard of Mealli before and from the nonexistent bio on Pandora.com, it's obvious he's a recent find. Biber has a longer, well-documented history, yet his music has a fresh, avant guard sound for that time. Both CDs are breathtaking . . .

Heinrich Ignaz Franze von Biber (composer), Romanesca (performer), Nigel North (performer), Andrew Manze (performer)

Harmonia Mundi, 2002

Giovanni Mealli (composer), Richard Egarr (performer), Andrew Manze (performer)

Harmonia Mundi, 1999

If You Think You Have an Idiot Boss, Think Again . . .

"Spich EEmpadumeeent"

IB= Idiot Boss

M = Me

IB: Well . . . perhaps he is imitating how you are saying Bill

M: [Hunh?] I don’t say Bill like Beeeel. I say Bill.

IB: But maybe he thinks that is what YOU are saying.

M: [processing . . . processing . . . so you’re telling me that >>I<< have a speech impediment and that that this particular nine year old student who I’ve worked with for 2 months now, for one, half hour a day, five days/week, has through some miracle, picked up on how I MAY be mispronouncing a word????]

[And given that the name "Bill" comes up so infrequently in our conversations about books and reading, it must further be some kind of complex ability—a regular marvel to modern science—that he can remember and imitate a word that I "could" have mispronounced a few times to him. Hmmmm . . . this is a very profound conversation. It needs to stop now.]

But he is using the name "Bill" to decode other word with the same rime . . . like pill, will, mill . .

IB: But I heard a story once of a teacher who worked in Alabama who would pronounce the word "it’s" and the kids would pronounce it (to her) like "eats". Therefore the kids heard her pronounce the word like "eats".

M: [No, IB, that would mean they have what we call an "accent" and the kids are pronouncing the word according to how they were taught at home from the area of the country they live in not because they are misinterpreting her pronunciation of "it’s".]

[I shake my head inwardly as if I have just stepped into a very large icky cobweb.]

He is not hearing ME mispronounce the word. He already pronounces the word incorrectly and uses it to decode all words that end in ill as EEL . . . [You, freaking IB]

IB: Oh. So he is saying other words incorrectly.

M:[Did I not just say this??]

. . . . . And

M: [processing . . . No, of course, not. I just have a particular obsession with him mispronouncing the word "Bill". That is why I spent several emails trying to explain to the "misguidance counselor" my concerns that this decoding issue could be affecting his reading.]

Yes, IB, he is mispronouncing other words as well.

IB: Ohhh . . . .

M: [Well, I’m glad my resume has been recently updated. It could be useful in the year to come]

Confession: This is My Secret Too

Okay, while I didn't mail this "secret" to PostSecret, I admit I do this with my older students. It's lots of fun--especially when you see a glimmer if interest. Hey, I'm allowed to have fun too! [devilish grin]

Fear and Loathing in a School District

Teachers are stressed out people I agree, but I don't recall meeting such a disgruntled bunch of people in my life (okay, minus the people at my first job). Now I like these folks, but when they get started grumbling I want to start running . . . so if I were to send a open letter to all new teachers and administrators--it would go something like this:

1) Always keep a promise--to students, colleagues, and staff. I'm finding the group of teachers I work with need to be "re-parented", have trust issues, and are extremely sensitive. From years of broken promises and feeling neglected, they are quick to point out any minor misstep. They are very literal minded folks. If you say you're going to be in their classrooms some time soon, they assume you're going to be there tomorrow. :-) Oye vey. The same holds true with students--I remember promising a student a long time ago that I was going to buy him special origami paper I found at a store. Well, every day thereafter, he kept asking me for it and for god's sake, why did I even make that promise? That was the last thing he needed--another disappointment, and while it may not seem a big deal, it WAS a big deal, and I made a note never to do that silly stuff again. When you fail to keep a promise, people remember--always!

2) Be visible and communicate OFTEN--to students, parents, colleagues, and staff. Contrary to what students and employees say, they really DO want to see you hovering over them . . . it means you care about the quality of their work, their personal contributions, and their successes. It also shows that you are a conscientious leader/teacher and that you also pride yourself in the quality of your work. In addition, I have found that communicating quickly with parents at the beginning of the year is very effective. Because I sent letters home to the parents at the very beginning of the year, they were less anxious and tied up in knots because they knew what was going on and there were no surprises. Also, whenever I get a call from a parent, I call back as soon as possible and give that parent as much time as I can to allay his or her fears. It just builds a wonderful rapport and a great foundation for trust (there's that word again). Yes, and return colleagues' phone calls/emails asap.

3) Even if you aren't a parent, you have to become one. I find that adults and children respond very well to boundary setting, guidance, and direction. And sometimes due to poor prior relationships, students and employees need to see you as the parental figure--the rock, the safe spot, home base--whatever. Wherever you are developmentally, you need to dig deeply inside yourself and envision the people around you as needy children. And then establish a rudimentary goal of meeting those needs . . . the constant complainer is saying "pay attention to me"; the oppositional defiant is saying "respect my needs" and so on. They also want you so say, "Hey that's enough" and "Stop" and "NO!" because it makes them feel safe. It's simple psychology, but it's also the difference between having a hellish year and a marvelous one.

4) Don't bite off more than you can chew. People often remember our failures more than our successes, probably because they are more likely to remember how they were hurt as a result of our failures :-). (There is some interesting research about why "hurt" sticks with us more than "happiness", but that's another post). Go slowly, and take baby steps, then relish the success of those small changes. People in general cannot deal with change--particularly as they age and also from not being asked to change . . . so move slowly and be happy when small changes produce sounds no louder than water lapping up against a rock in a pond. It's a good thing. And students, even though they are young and more resilient at times, also have a hard time dealing with change, so respect the "traditions" and go with the flow--not because you necessarily agree with the flow but because you want your students to feel safe (there's that concept again). I love change and can weather it better than others, but I have learned to respect others' need for sameness and it's made me a better teacher and colleague because of this.

5) Celebrate success LOUDLY. Don't go quietly into the night . . . shout it out! Make note of every single success (regardless of size) you observe or hear about. No sappy saccharine stuff is needed here--just point out the accomplishment. Students and employees will be eating out of your hand! Usually on Mondays I take stock of student "successes" by reviewing the previous week. I review my guidelines and ask students to assess their own performance. I also note the successes I observed the previous week and make a big deal out of it. And it's always nice to thank students and employees publicly--even for completing minor tasks or for meeting a small goal--in front of their peers. Once again, this is the re-parenting and "you matter" part. It works, trust me it works!

6) Lastly, don't beat yourself up. Nothing ever good came out of self-flagellation. So stop now, take it in stride, and revise your plan for the next time. I have often started a lesson in first period and thought it was awful. Then by the third or fourth period, that lesson was totally revised--for the better. I also have found that by admitting I make mistakes and by pointing out to my students that, hey, I don't think that lesson was very effective--but, hey kids, stay tuned for next time for the revised, and newly improved version--my students are less likely to be critical and more likely to admire my willingness to show my human side. This also applies to colleagues and employees--pointing out one of our mistakes or wrong decisions, once in a while can be very effective--as long as you make motions to revise that error.

Much luck!

Sincerely,
a teacher

The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Reader

GoodReads soothes the soul of lonely readers everywhere. Think you are the only bookish, nerd you know? Think again. This site offers a chance to connect with readers all over the country (and the world). You can create a profile; list, review, and rate books you have read; explore others' choices, while participating in group discussions, playing trivia games and searching the ongoing "listopia". Can't beat it. It's fun way to meet new people an informative way to share book recommendations with friends.

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www.goodreads.com

'Tis the Season . . . to Interview

Interviewing is by far the most unnerving yet critical aspects to clinching a job today and oh how I LOVE a good interview, but hate the wait time. I always wonder if interviewers remember those days of searching for a job . . . waiting for a phone call . . . a response . . . an answer. It's painful. I consider myself patient, but I'm not especially settled when I know that my future is hanging by a thread. I go into interviews prepared and ready to answer queries and potential land mines. But it never seems to be enough!

Last week the assistant superintendent at a school district called me to set up an interview. Said he wanted to check my qualifications and make sure that I knew the aspects of the job. Turns out the newspaper didn't indicate that it was a one year position. No matter to me . . . I'll take it. It's a risk, but chances are, if you perform well, the school will hire you in another capacity or for that job . . . you just never know. So . . . he said that he was going to talk to the principals and then set up a time for an interview for next week (that would be this week). He wanted to see how they could include me in the program even though it was through the special education department and they were going to see "how to make that work." Hmm. Then he asked if I was teaching in a district and I said "No, I'm teaching, but not in a district." He said. "OH!" and I thought "oh no . . . oh no . . .does this matter??" He then said, "But you have a secondary certificate in English, correct?" I said "YES!" (not that loudly) Well, I didn't hear from him the rest of Friday, so I called. The secretary told me that he had been in meetings all day and that he was in a meeting right then. I started panicking. I thought I'm done I'm done. . . he's not interested . . . he's confused me with someone else and made a mistake calling me. So I fast forwarded the time to after work. I thought maybe he called me at home and left a "regret" message. That would be the safe way. Or maybe he didn't call at all. That would be preferable because then that meant he was really busy. OH GOD! The knots one can bind oneself up in--it's insane. CRAZY. So I've been waiting all weekend wondering if he would call me at home (didn't) and then wondered when he had a time in mind next week because we all have a shortened week (panic).

Perhaps I need to cool it and find something else to do with my time . . . Maybe I'll make jewelry.

Umm Like Hemingway or Something

Me:

Standing in line to buy a book at Barnes and Noble

Unknown High School/College Student to Salesperson:

Like. Yeah. I have to get this book called I think Old Man and the Sea (intoned as a question) and I don't know where to find it. I'm not sure if it's fiction or nonfiction. (I was impressed she even knew the difference--this would lead me to believe that she probably is indeed a college student at a local college. Community. Very local.)

I think it's like Hemingway or something. (She shook her head and rolled her eyes like how could her teacher/professor possibly expect her to find such an obscure book at a bookstore of all places.)

Salesperson:

Hmmm . . . Let me check the computer for you (she actually had to think about this??)

Me: (silently)

Like Hemingway or something! What the hell . . . Okay, be nice. BE NICE. And wow it's like some crazy author--no one has heard of him. Like whoa. He's so rare. Wow, like I had better check the computer because there is a strong possibility that Barnes and Noble may not carry this book. I mean, it's so rare and all.

Me:

I know I know--I'm a teacher. Like yeah!! And gawd I should understand the plight of our youth today, seeing that they were brought up and raised by TVs instead of people. And it's my job to rub the grit of ignorance out of their eyes, right?? Like yeah! But jaysus there are days I want to beat my head against a very hard door and wonder if, for example, that Old Man and the Sea, which is not the best of Hemingway, will be the only book this poor brain-frittered mind of a girl will ever read in her life and that my friends is the saddest tale of all.

Tis' the Season to Be Greedy

Two concepts totally floor me (except in certain situations), but seem to be de rigueur in this millennium. Regifting and returning gifts. Call me old fashioned . . . whatever . . . but I cannot think of anything as tacky as handing someone else a gift intended for you. Okay, so you want to save a few bucks and know this person perhaps--may--like the gift. Sorry, still tacky. The best part is that I can always tell when someone regifts. The item has a certain lackluster look to it--like it's been tossed around the house a while. Then there is the silent pause that ensues after the gift has been given. The giver knows darn well that there is a 50% chance that you may know it's a regift and holds his or her breath, hoping you didn't notice the scuff mark on the plastic casing. The giver also holds his or her breath knowing that you didn't really state that you wanted this gift or show an interest in it, but that it is VERY much liked by the giver or one of the giver's family members. It was an apparent "over gift"--meaning, an object already owned by the giver. Oy vey . . . dost thou think we are stupid?

To me the act of giving simply means that you give an item or perform an activity to show appreciation, thoughtfulness, love, or good cheer. Giving for the sake of making yourself look good is crass and obvious. I can't say that this has happened to me a lot, but I know when it does and it makes me feel . . . like party leftovers.

I can very proudly say I have never regifted--nor would I think of it. I have outright told someone, hey I have something that I can't use, doesn't fit, I already have the same pair--would you like it? Here take it . . .

Now that's a whole different story.

I'm also amazed with the "Return Item Givee's" I have heard of certain family members moaning about gifts that they didn't like and were going to return. hunh? I thought the return line was for things that didn't work or sizes that didn't fit. Not to return an item because it didn't suit you. What the hell is wrong with people? A gift is a gift--suck it up and accept it. It was meant to show appreciation, good cheer, love, or thoughtfulness--so shut up, if you don't like it. Instead of whining and complaining how no one understands you, think about WHY the person gave you the gift. And this includes "regifting". So while I don't like regifts and want to say to people--listen, give me anything--it doesn't matter--it's the thought that counts, I also have to remind myself that the regift probably had some good intention behind it--even if it is tacky.

That old adage--it's the thought the counts--still applies today. It's not an old-fashioned concept. In our narcissistic and materialistic society, people have come to believe that they are "owed" something and that they "deserve" better. That just sounds like Grinch-lingo. Think like a Who and get over yourself!

Cyberbullying--What It Is and Why You Should Care

Cyberbullying

Bullying is not new; neither is cyberbullying, but it's easier to carry out because it requires no confrontation, reaches a larger audience, and can be more damaging. Here are some examples of cyberbullying from © WiredKids, Inc.:

• Instant Messaging/Text Messaging Harassment
• Hateful Anonymous Messages sent via email or text messaging
• Bashing Websites: Example: Vote for the Ugliest Girl at XYZ Middle School
• Anonymous Death Threats
• Making False Accusations to Child's Email Provider
• Sending Unwanted Pictures Through Email or Cell Phones
• Stealing Passwords
• Defamatory Blogs
• Sending Porn or Other Junk Email and IMs
• Uploading Child's Pictures to Unsavory Web Sites
• Impersonation
• Sending Malicious Code (viruses)
• Interactive gaming

Definition of Cyberbullying

In short, cyberbullying is "willful and repeated harm inflicted through the medium of electronic text" (Patchin & Hinduja, 2006).

The constructs of “malicious intent,” “violence,” “repetition,” and “power differential” appear most salient when constructing a comprehensive definition of traditional bullying, and are similarly appropriate when attempting to define this new permutation. To be sure, cyberbullies are malicious aggressors who seek implicit or explicit pleasure or profit through the mistreatment of another individual. Violence is often associated with aggression, and corresponds to actions intended to inflict injury (of any type). One instance of mistreatment, while potentially destructive, cannot accurately be equated to bullying, and so cyberbullying must also involve harmful behavior of a repetitive nature. Finally, due to the very nature of the behavior, cyberbullies have some perceived or actual power over their victims. While “power” in traditional bullying might be physical (stature) or social (competency or popularity), online power may simply stem from proficiency. That is, youth who are able to navigate the electronic world and utilize technology in a way that allows them to harass others are in a position of power relative to a victim. There are two major electronic devices that young bullies can employ to harass their victims from afar. First, using a personal computer a bully can send harassing emails or instant messages, post obscene, insulting, and slanderous messages to online bulletin boards, or develop web sites to promote and disseminate defamatory content. Second, harassing text messages can be sent to the victim via cellular phones.

CITATION: Patchin, J. W. and Hinduja, S. (2006). Bullies Move beyond the Schoolyard: A Preliminary Look at Cyberbullying. Youth Violence and Juvenile Justice, 4(2), 148-169.

Here is more:

Offenders of cyberbullying tend to rationalize their behavior in certain ways. Half (50%) justify it as being done in fun, instructive (22.2%), or as an indirect tool used to strengthen victims (13%).

What is the school's role in this?

When schools try and get involved by disciplining the student for cyberbullying actions that took place off-campus and outside of school hours, they are often sued for exceeding their authority and violating the student's free speech right. They also, often lose. Schools can be very effective brokers in working with the parents to stop and remedy cyberbullying situations. They can also educate the students on cyberethics and the law.

If schools are creative, they can sometimes avoid the claim that their actions exceeded their legal authority for off-campus cyberbullying actions. We recommend that a provision is added to the school's acceptable use policy reserving the right to discipline the student for actions taken off-campus if they are intended to have an effect on a student or they adversely affect the safety and well-being of student while in school. This makes it a contractual, not a constitutional, issue.

The Dyslexic Brain

Overcoming Dyslexia: Timing Of 'Connections' In Brain Is Key

ScienceDaily (2007-09-05) -- Using new software developed to investigate how the brains of dyslexic children are organized, researchers have found that key areas for language and working memory involved in reading are connected differently in dyslexics than in children who are good readers and spellers. However, a three-week instructional program can normalize those connections. ... > read full article

Congratulations, Mrs. Lessing

Lessing wins Nobel prize for literature
By Peter Aspden

Published: October 12 2007 03:00

Doris Lessing, the prolific English novelist who crafted her reputation as a critic of colonial African society and whose career has spanned an occasionally bewildering range of styles and genres, has been awarded the Nobel prize for literature at the age of 87.

The Swedish Academy yesterday described Ms. Lessing as "that epicist of the female experience, who with scepticism, fire and visionary power has subjected a divided civilisation to scrutiny".

She is the 11th woman to receive the literature prize since its inception in 1901, and the 34th woman Nobel laureate across all categories.

Ms. Lessing is best known for her series of novels Children of Violence, written in the 1950s and featuring her heroine Martha Quest, whose growth in consciousness reflected the author's concerns over social justice.

Her first, semi-autobiographical novel, The Grass is Singing, addressed the culture clashes and racial discrimination she encountered during her childhood in Southern Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe, where she moved with her parents at the age of six.

Ms. Lessing, born in Persia, now Iran, left school at the age of 14 and went on to work as a nanny, telephonist, office worker and stenographer before having several short stories published.

In 1939 she married Frank Charles Wisdom, with whom she had a son and a daughter. The couple divorced in 1943 and two years later she married Gottfried Lessing, whom she had met in a Marxist group and with whom she had a son.

She moved to Britain in 1949, joined the British Communist party and became a fierce critic of the South African regime.

In 1956, Ms. Lessing was declared a prohibited alien in Southern Rhodesia and South Africa, a ban that was lifted in 1995.

In the 1960s the author broke new ground with The Golden Notebook, which examined the multiple aspects of the life of a woman, Anna Wulf, in an experimental style. The burgeoning feminist movement regarded it as a pioneering work.

Ms. Lessing went on to experiment with a variety of styles. Her Briefing for a Descent into Hell in 1971 was described by the author as "inner space fiction", while her series Canopus in Argos: Archives was a post-nuclear study in science fiction.

She was attacked for being "unfeminine" in her work, to which she replied: "Apparently what many women were thinking, feeling, experiencing came as a great surprise."

In The Good Terrorist of 1985, she satirised the contemporary left and the novel's female protagonist, for her misguided martyrdom.

The Fifth Child, written in 1988, was a psychological thriller in which a woman's aggression against family life was incarnated in a monstrous boy child.

Ms Lessing was appointed a companion of honour in 1999, having turned down the offer of becoming a dame of the British empire, because she said there was no British empire.

Her most recent novel, The Cleft, was published in January by Fourth Estate to mixed reviews.

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2007

Hey Parents, Leave Them Teachers Alone

Is it no wonder that teachers are leaving the profession by the droves? In addition to worrying about scores from NCLB-mandated state tests, teachers have to contend with a variety of distracting factions. Parents either become completely absorbed and obsessed with their children's education, or they completely ignore it hoping their children will miraculously fly through school without any outside assistance. Can we have some middle ground here?

Many school administrators walk on eggshells around parents dreading to hear "lawsuit". Please. If a parent wants to blame Mr. X for his or her child's performance, then I suggest we need to resort to video taping classrooms. Yes, let's up the surveillance. I know it will give us teachers a breather. We know that our stories can be corroborated by a video tape. Why not? Lots of alternative education schools do this, why not ALL schools. Heck, I'll even chip in part of my paycheck.

In addition, some parents become so involved in their children's education that they question a teacher on seat placement (when there is nothing wrong with the child). As people in our society become more in tune with their children's education and as their socioeconomic status throughout generations has improved, many parents feel they have a right to make sure their money is being well used. This new money in the wallet syndrome makes them really conscious of where it's going, and they better be investing it well. I have heard parents say "Well, we pay for you to teach." Not so--if you knew that you are only paying for about a nickel of my salary (if that) where would you direct your anger?

I believe a teacher has a right to use his or her professional expertise without being constantly monitored, drilled, and analyzed to death. I agree that teachers need to be accountable for their teaching as any professional should be accountable for the quality of his or her work. But there comes a point when parents needs to back off, and have a little faith. Parents need to realize that no educational environment is going to be totally in synch with what their children need. Guess what? Welcome to the real world. It's called adaptation, and unless children are taught to adapt to their new environments they will continually suffer from "I'm specialitis". This just doesn't fly in the workplace.

And many times, these overbearing, suffocating parents are the ones who threaten HOME SCHOOLING when the going gets tough at school. Yes, I can see how coddling your child in the comfort of your home will prepare your child for the harsh realities of life. Even more, I can understand that when things don't go your way (i.e. can't run the teacher or boss her around) you want to stamp your foot and pout. But let's think about the greater good here for the child--not your ego. Children need social interaction to become well-developed adults--they won't get this kind of interaction at home. In addition, the classroom prepares children for what they will be doing the rest of their lives: WORK. If children can't get along with their peers--how will they get along with their future coworkers? Education should be as individualized as possible for maximum learning benefit. At the same time, life doesn't adapt for US, we must adapt for it. So there also has to be a happy medium between giving children 100% of what they need and teaching them that life does not consist of everything being geared or catered to their needs.

I'm one of the biggest supporters of adapting classrooms, differentiating instruction, and helping special learners. But my job becomes increasingly difficult when I have to worry about whether I can sit Joe next to John and will I get a phone call from the parents. Hmmm . . . Parents, there are greater things out there for you to be concerned with. Just let the teachers teach, and we won't tell you how to parent or discipline your children--even if we can do it better than you can.