Closing the Floodgates

“If you forfeit the confidence of your fellow citizens, you can never gain their respect and esteem.” – Abraham Lincoln

I received my call the previous evening to substitute at my usual school these days. I feel like subbing has trends – I get comfortable in one school for several days or several weeks, but then I stop getting assigned to them just as another school seems to choose me. I thought perhaps this sixth-grade job was going to be difficult because there was no subject provided, hinting at a self-contained classroom, which might mean that the students were behavioral problems.

These thoughts stayed with me as I turned in last night. As the morning hour approached, I had a nightmare that I was teaching a large class that was so bad, there were four teachers helping keep the students calm (And I forgot to bring my shoes). Just when I seemed to have everything under control (magically wearing shoes again), the building began to come undone, and I knew it was about to collapse, but before I could help the students escape, I woke up. Then I chastised myself by getting rattled by a potential job, which I hadn’t done since those early weeks when I began subbing. Little did I know that my dream was actually foreshadowing what was about to occur.

I began my morning routine without a hitch, but as I was starting to wash my face, the recently flushed toilet began to spew water onto the floor (Thankfully, from the tank). Knowing I’d better get someone more likely to stop the flow than me, I raced to the bedroom, flipped the lamp switch, and screeched, “Hurry!” to my husband. I explained the pipe had opened, so he rushed to stop it, while I grabbed towels from the linen closet. He stopped the water quite quickly, but some piece cracked (see how unqualified I am to fix the toilet), so around 6:20AM, my husband drove to Home Depot, which is now my favorite store because they opened at 6:00AM.

Getting ready in haste, I knew that a tight day had just become tighter, and I tried not to think that if my husband couldn’t fix the toilet, I’d have to cancel the job to wait for a plumber. Right after school, I had my daughter’s parent-teacher conference, then I was taking my kids to the doctor for their seasonal and H1N1 flu shots, and right from there we would head to Taekwondo. My poor kids wouldn’t be home until 7:00PM. When my son woke up, he had to pee in the shower, but my kids rallied, and helped more than usual with their breakfast routine.

The flat iron skimmed my hair, barely flattening it into submission. Then my husband was back about 6:50AM, and had the toilet fixed in about ten minutes. With five-minutes to spare, I kissed everyone, packed the Taekwondo bags, snacks, and games in the car for later, and drove to work.

It turned out the class was the same group of students I’d had for first period Spanish the week before. I recalled that they had a bad reputation, but behaved well for me, but I also knew that not every kid is required to take Spanish, depending on education plans, so that means I didn’t have the whole class. The sixth-grade teacher was there, explaining that she had two meetings today, and would return to teach Math last period. She warned me that the most difficult time would be the reading/writing block, which required a lot of different types of work and focus.

First period, I brought the students to the same Spanish classroom I’d been in the previous Tuesday. The teacher was delighted to see me, and was thrilled with the job I’d done – especially with the small children. “I’ve subbed Montessori quite a few times,” I explained. Then she said that she’d asked woman in charge of the sub line to put me in her classroom three days next week (which would be all the days until Christmas Eve), unless the school planned to use the building sub. I told her I’d be happy to do it. Who knows? As I've said before, the sub line works in mysterious ways.

After Spanish, the students went to PE, and when they returned with an aide, she said that two students were complaining of injuries, but not to let them go the nurse. That was about the worst situation this woman could’ve put me in. Both boys howled about their injuries – one being more obnoxious than the other. I warned them that they couldn’t talk to me like that. Then I realized that the first boy did have a cut on his knee, though I didn’t know if the one who'd said he’d hurt his elbow was really injured. The problem was that the aide had a knee-jerk reaction because these students had bad reputations, but now that she’d made that proclamation and they’d already given made a hard time, I couldn’t cave in so easily.

I had a split second to decide or this issue would plague me for the entire period, if not the rest of the day. In fact, these students could get others to turn against me, opening the floodgates to a myriad of discipline problems. (As you’re reading this, if you’re not a substitute teacher, aren’t you glad that you’re not a substitute teacher?) Deciding to I compromise, I said, “If you complete the three definitions and stop being disrespectful, I’ll let you go to the nurse.”

For a good chunk of time, the rest of reading group went smoothly, until all groups were back in the room to listen to a recording of the book, Esperanza Rising.” Those same boys, plus two others weren’t that into it, so they worked their hardest to be as distracting as possible. But I once again used my awesome powers of persuasion to get them quiet, threatening to stop the tape and read aloud instead, and also offering to give a play-by-play of events to their teacher at the end of the day, but promising if they behaved from then on, my memory might fade).

After lunch, I brought the students to Science class next store. Two of the children were just as disrespectful to this teacher, though he was good at having them sit on a “Take a Break” chair, and if that didn’t work, he brought took them out of the room to talk. After fifteen-minutes, the class ran pretty well. During last period Math, when the regular teacher returned, I noticed that the two problem boys had their rulers taken away by a teacher who came in to provide academic support. They behaved the best for their regular teacher, but they were no angels. In fact, when I mentioned a few of the difficulties, it was clear that they were trying for her as well.

Some classes are challenging, and they only vary in degree, depending on the teacher before them. It is my goal to be one of those teachers that get the best from the worst behaved students. I will keep refining my steadfastness in expectations, hoping it will go a long way towards garnering respect.

I wonder if I did a word wall after today’s post, if it would list “toilet”.

Coping Mechanism

"These people—if you can even call them that—deliberately violate every social norm without ever pausing to consider how their selfish behavior might affect others. It's as if they have no concept of anyone but themselves."

- Spoof article, "New Study Reveals Most Children Unrepentant Sociopaths"

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/new_study_reveals_most_children

This weekend, my family went to a friend’s house to celebrate Hanukkah. There were an assortment of children from my son’s grade, alone with a younger sibling of one child, and another child who did not go to the school, but was a family friend of the host. There were six children in all, ranging in age from seven to eleven. Although the age-range was large and both sexes were represented, all of the children played together well. That is, all children but a nine-year-old boy.

I’d seen the family friend’s child a handful of times, but on each occasion, the child spent more time with his single-mother than my son and his friend. Even with more children and a greater variety of games being played, this boy still didn’t join in the fun. Until this time, I didn’t know if his mother noticed, and if she did, I didn’t know if she minded. An example of the exclusive relationship between mother and son is from this past July 4th, when we went the see the fireworks on the Charles River together. My husband bought all the kids glow sticks, and my son and his friend immediately used them as swords, dueling, while the son formed his into a circle, and repeatedly tossed it onto his mother's foot.

I’m sure when you raise a child alone, there’s comfort in proximity. But at this holiday party, when she tried to talk to me, and he interrupted, the mother encouraged him to join the others. Once or twice he attempted to, but he seemed awkward interacting with other children, and soon found his mother again.

When the mother decided to leave, her son mentioned that he didn’t have a portion of the Hanukkah gelt (chocolate coins) that the host bought for the children. The kids divided them, in a rough assemblance of fairness when the boy was sitting with his mother, and though he witnessed the mad scramble for the gelt, at the time he didn’t say anything or try to participate. The host immediately went to remedy the situation, but it was too late; the boy said he didn’t want the chocolate and the mother threw around some coats to find her son’s and left red-faced. The host was left bewildered.

I was bewildered too. Did the boy want the chocolates in the beginning, but was unable to articulate it or did he not realize it until he was leaving? Did the boy then say he didn’t want them because he saw his mother was upset or because he didn’t want an imagined confrontation with the other children? The host and I were ready to call the kids and make sure that everyone had an equal amount. Sure, there would be some protests and grudging division, but that’s something I deal with at home with my two children and at school with students.

And maybe that’s the problem. With no other parent to balance how the child is being raised, no sibling at home, and periodic home schooling, this boy probably doesn’t possess the proper coping mechanisms to deal with the rough and tumble interactions with his peers.

I'm certainly not disparaging single parents, and I was, in fact, raised by one from time to time. But I know that it's makes it more difficult as a parent because there's nobody else at home to: bounce ideas off of, decide the best course of discipline with, or to provide a break. Certainly, having to work out problems with siblings is good practice for the real world as child, though trying for a parent. But if there's no sibling, interacting with other students is probably nearly as effective. The home schooling is harder for me to understand. Unless my children's school had problems with violence (ie: gun shots), I would have a hard time seeing it as a "bad" school.

School is essential to create a well-rounded individual. I’m a teacher, and would never consider being my children’s sole educator. I only have my perspective on the world and my teaching style (as awesome as it is), which would give my student a deficit in so many subjects and ways to be taught. More importantly, having good and bad teachers, and good and bad years is part of the learning process. As parents, we can only protect our children for so long before life’s hard knocks come knocking. If they’ve rarely-to-never faced adversity, with a parent hovering in the wings, how will these children fare as adults? The answer is that they won’t fare well.

I've heard that there are parents micromanaging their adult-children's college education, going as far as to call professors, which is ludicrous. What happens to those young adults once they're truly on their own, without their parents' bankroll, when they find out for the first time that they can't have anything they want, when they want it? And what happens to those young adults when they have issues at their first job, but mommy and/or daddy can no longer whisk in and make everything all better?

We want to protect our children from mean people and uncomfortable situations, but then we also stifle growth, a necessary ingredient to becoming a well-rounded individual. I once heard it said that parenthood is a job where your main goal is to eventually lose your job (it was more eloquent and coherent than that), but I don’t think all parents realize that. Our kids are not our: confidantes, pals, or pet projects.

Learning to negotiate with people (including other children) is an invaluable skill, and as a parent and teacher, I am cognizant that I have to give my children the tools, then sit back and trust my kids to use them.

My Words

When perusing the Bloggess's blog yesterday, she mentioned going on to http://www.wordle.net/ where she put in her blog's address, and it made a mosaic for her. I decided to try it to see which words I've used the most in my blog, so far. I think the more I use a word, the larger it makes it ,which gave me some insight into my blog. It also made me realize that I use the word "get" a lot.

Maybe in a few months I'll try it again, to see if anything changes.

If you have a blog, I highly recommend making your own word wall.

"Gotta get-get, gotta get-get

Gotta get-get, gotta g-g-g-get-get-get, get-get"

- Adams, William; Ferguson, Stacy; Gomez, Jaime. "Boom Boom Pow" Black Eyed Peas

The Adventures of...

Kent: Lois, I thought you were in danger. I just tried to help.

Lane: You? Why should I need your help, when I can always count on—

Kent: I know… Superman.

Episode "The Mind Machine" from television show "The Adventures of Superman

Announcer:

“The Saga of the Substitute Teacher

Rising earlier than most educators!

More subjects than a Renaissance Man!

Able to go from building to building in a single week!”

Voices:

“Look at the school!

With a call! And a plan!

It's Substituteteacherwoman!”

Announcer:

“Yes, it’s Substituteteacherwoman, former Assistant from the fifth-grade with lessons and plans far beyond those of normal teachers. Substituteteacherwoman, who can teach the course of Advance Placement Chemistry, rub preschooler’s backs with her bare hands; and who, disguised as an ordinary mother and Art Committee volunteer in the city of Cambridge, fights a never ending battle for a high school History job, a book contract, and the American way!”

Inspired by yesterday's post and:

http://www.tv.com/adventures-of-superman/show/6110/summary.html

Superwoman

“And I was a physical education major with a child psychology minor at Temple, which means if you ask me a question about a child’s behavior, I will advise you to tell the child to take a lap.”

- Bill Cosby

Yesterday evening, I had the longest conversation with the sub caller that I’d ever had. I had left her a message the previous day, asking her to speak with me about adding classes I’d be willing to teach at the high school. Like the last time I’d left a message with a question, she didn’t return my call. But when she phoned last night for a Physical Education (PE) job, I asked, “Did you get my message about adding subjects?” She had. So I asked, “Are you the right person to speak to?” She was. Then she asked what I wanted to add, but I was cooking dinner, so I didn’t have the list in front of me.

Suddenly she became friendly, rattling off the subjects I hadn’t signed up for and recommending certain ones. We agreed that teachers normally leave work anyway, so I don’t really have to know the subject. Besides, a couple of times they've called me for subjects I wasn't listed to teach, and those worked out fine. I’m hoping this will get me more work in the high school.

Now I’m listed for high school: French, Spanish, Latin, Chemistry, Math, Dance, and a few other subjects I’m not qualified to teach. I only said no to Technical Arts, English Language Learners, and Instrumental Music. I also put myself down for high school gym, since it’s worked out fine in the K-8 schools.

This morning, it felt funny to dress down for work, but that’s what I did. I put on yoga pants, sneakers and a dressy sweatshirt (Yes, dressy sweatshirt – not embellishments, but it’s a-line and has cute sleeves). When I left the house, the biting chill nipped at my bare calves and sifted through the tiny holes in my running shoes. From a previous post*, I’ve revealed that these sneakers have NEVER been used for running, so the breathing holes are a detriment.

If you ask most students what their favorite subject is, they’ll say, “Gym.” I would never have said that. To tell you how much I disliked PE, I met my husband in early morning gym in our senior year because, without taking it, we wouldn’t have been able to graduate. My husband was worse that me, having skipped it for all of high school, while I had to make up the entire quarter for missing one day too many. That said, teaching Physical Education is much easier than many other subjects, and when I meet subs who are intimidated by it I always encourage them to give it a whirl.

The PE teacher I worked with had a wonderful rapport with the students. He was so funny that I wound up laughing all day. He interacted with the children the same way I like to, but rarely get to do now since I don’t know them as well. When a student acted up, the teacher diffused the situation with humor rather than a harsh demeanor or yelling.

“Don’t pass go. Don’t collect $200.” I’m sure they didn’t get the Monopoly reference, but it made me chuckle.

“I’m watching you,” he’d warn, moving his fingers forward and back from his eyes to the student, which they seemed to like because most would copy the move, but then they’d behave.

“I have all of your home numbers on speed dial. You’re fifty-three.” Each student he said that to (making up a different number) didn’t quite believe it, but didn’t want to push it… just in case.

No wonder that all the times I’d bring the Montessori students to the cafeteria, when he’d pass by they’d whisper his name, point, and then shout his name and wave their hands vigorously to get his attention like he was a rock star.

We began with fourth-graders who did the usual laps and stretches to blaring pop music (Ugh). After that, they tossed a ball around and played a ball game. It was the same routine with the next class, except the number of students was uneven, so I had to be a partner with someone for ball tossing and a team evener for the ball game. I was going to get my glasses so I could see better, but I knew that wouldn’t really help my lack of coordination.

Next came the three-year-olds, after their lunch but before their (attempted) nap. The younger the children are, the more difficult they are to deal with in PE. When I’d attempt to get a student to behave (stopping them from throwing jump ropes at one another or into the basketball net, for instance), they would try to run away, but after I’d catch up with them, they’d often fall to the ground in protest (Reminding me of Reggie Miller’s tactic of getting fouls called against the other team in basketball). As the gym teacher lifted one student to his feet, he asked, "What's wrong?" "I want a popsicle," the tike replied. In keeping up with the Montessori theme, using jump ropes was called, "work". Even though the period felt like f o r e v e r, it was only thirty-minutes.

As the next group of students ran around the gym for warm up, I had to encourage/nag them to keep moving.

A girl said, “You don’t know what we’re going through!”

“Of course I do. I had to take gym when I was a kid.”

“In first-grade?”

I didn’t know whether she couldn’t imagine I was ever a six-year-old or that she thought I was so old that she couldn’t fathom that either gym or running had been invented yet. She didn’t elaborate.

The last group of the day came in, eyeing me curiously as they made their way to sit in a circle in the center of the room. I stood near them, waiting for the PE teacher to begin the class.

One child asked, “Weren’t you just our Spanish teacher?”

“Yes, but today I’m your gym teacher,” I replied.

“How do you do that?” asked the gullible kid.

“I’m like Superwoman,” I said. I think the other teacher was rubbing off on me.

“Like Super Woman, but without a cape?” another child asked.

“Yes. If a teacher is in need, I come in and teach,” I explained.

I got a chorus of Wow and Superwoman. Put it that way, and my job doesn’t sound so terrible.

*http://theresamilstein.blogspot.com/2009/09/dress-for-success.html

Lack Thereof

“I can’t always be waiting, waiting on you

I can’t always be playing, playing your fool

I keep playing your part

But it’s not my scene

Want this plot not twist?

I've had enough mystery.

Keep building me up

But then you’re shooting me down

But I’m already down”

- Johnson, Jack. Song “Sitting, Waiting, Wishing”

I’m depressed today. As I ironed my third shirt, my state became obvious, only in part because I was ironing. At first I didn’t realize it, but a number of clues added up. I’ve been sleepier these days, and not just from the fact that I get up too early anticipating a possible sub call, but rather a sign of sadness. Then this morning, I was wrapping Hanukkah presents, and found no joy in it. I thought it was because holidays make me anxious, a reflex leftover from childhood. It’s a day before Hanukkah begins, yet I haven’t started filling out holiday cards or even bothered to order photos to insert inside said cards. Those who know me understand that this is not like me. And when I don’t get called for sub work, I’ve been forgoing makeup and not brushing my teeth until afternoon.

Let me be clear about the tooth brushing. I shower, shave, and otherwise groom each morning, but I save taking care of my teeth until just before I leave for work. Since I drink a cup of coffee after showering and getting dressed, I figure I should wait to brush so I have the freshest breath when I walk out the door. But if I don’t work, and my husband takes the kids to the bus, I forget, sometimes for hours.

I could blame my depression on personal issues, who doesn’t have those? Or I could blame it on lack of jobs for over a month, maybe two. Part of the reason could be that I’ve just completed a revision of my manuscript, Indigo in the Know, and waiting to send it out has me anxious. Perhaps it’s also because I’m unsure what to do next. Should I revisit a previous manuscript or begin a new one? At this moment, I feel too lethargic to do either. Truthfully, I always write a first draft when I seem too busy to do so, but when I have stretches of time, then I suffer from lack of inspiration. Note to potential agents and editors, I’m sure once I have a contract, this will cease to be a problem.

Most likely, I’m down because I haven’t worked since Tuesday. I had to take myself off the sub list yesterday because my son was sick, but I didn’t get a call on Monday or today, and now I’ll have to see about tomorrow. And (of course) being a substitute teacher (in itself) is depressing. Take the lack of jobs to apply for, lack of sub calls, lack of success in writing, and it adds up to me feeling aimless.

When I used to get anxiety attacks as a teenager, I recall my father once saying, “Snap out of it,” though I think that’s what Cher says in the film “Moonstruck”, so it probably wasn’t exactly that. And I am trying to snap out of it. I tell myself I have my health, my family is well, my husband has a job, and similar positive thoughts. Unfortunately, I still feel like how they describe a depressed person in a Wellbutrin commercial before she’s taken the prescription.

I hit this wall every once in a while, and I know it shall pass. These blues come and go, often unknown by even those closest to me, since I like to keep my feelings to myself, which is ironic now that I’m sharing them to the World Wide Web, at least potentially. I’ve always found it easier to express myself in written rather than spoken words, which makes it odd that I took so long to write. And having this medium in which to express myself helps me work through my woes. It might be the kick I need to be productive tomorrow.

My mental state really comes from the fact that once in a while I get tired of waiting. I’m waiting for a job to appear, and when one does, I have to wait to see if I get called for an interview. Each weekday, I wait to see if the phone will ring me in some work. Then I wait to see if my submissions turn into offers or rejections. Waiting is the hardest part.

Studies say that people are the most depressed around the holidays and studies also mention that transitions, like moving, marriage, birth, death, and a new job, cause stress. If I sub, having a new job (or no job) each day, that must count as a lot of transitioning. The reality is that my job, sub, and writing statuses are all on hold, and sometimes I’m fine with that. Today I’m not, but maybe tomorrow things will be better.

Update:

This evening I received a call to sub gym tomorrow, and although it will be hectic because I’m also running a wrapping fundraiser for my children’s school, which means I’ll also be wrapping gifts from 3:30-5:30, and then rushing my daughter to my husband’s work so he can take her to see The Nutcracker in Boston, and then I’ll take my son out to do something special, I’m actually feeling better. At least for tomorrow, I have structure. If time permits, maybe I’ll revisit my first manuscript.

Eye of the Beholder

“So give me something to believe

Cause I am living just to breathe

And I need something more

To keep on breathing for

So give me something to believe”

- Samuel Bingham Endicott, Song “Believe” The Bravery

I’ve been inhaling books and agents’ blogs to find out what to do and, more importantly, what not to do when writing and submitting. When I send a query, and sometimes a synopsis and pages of the manuscript, I’m not provided with any feedback as to what I’ve done wrong.

Most rejections provide vague responses:

“Not right for our list.”

“Doesn’t suit our present needs.”

“I’m sure another publisher will feel differently.”

These comments don’t do anything for morale or improve queries and writing. Then I recently read a post that said all rejection letters are lies, and not to believe a word. That is NOT helpful.

Everyone recommends critique groups. But join a group of four and I’ll get four different types of advice, pulling me in different directions. Who is right? Who is wrong? A manuscript exchange partner limits the comments and the perspective, but is that better or worse? Go to conferences and do a critique round table on first pages and there’s some valuable advice, but as with regular critique groups, the comments are all over the place, and if I’m not jazzed by their writing, how can I trust their feedback?

A professional critique is the answer! For the last two years, I’ve utilized that option, with its negligible expense at conferences. This has been helpful, but then after I make improvements that person isn’t there to give me more feedback. I could hire someone, but that’s a significant expense; it may cost as much as my first advance, without guaranteeing one.

Now I’m reading, Hooked by Les Edgerton, which is all about inciting incidents, story worthy problems, and the like. It’s made me look at all my manuscripts in a different light, which is great… but… as I change them, how do I know I’m heading in the right direction?

Worse, is that, like Edgerton, these agent sites and blogs state, “Don’t do this, unless you are (Fill in the famous author who did do it successfully).” How do I know if I’m good enough to do it or should I err on the side of I’m not worthy? During my first conference, I actually heard an agent tell a writer, “Don’t write in rhyme, unless it’s done well.” Is proper prose in the eye of the beholder?

But not all feedback gives mixed messages. This is what I’ve learned (And most of these are crimes I’ve committed):

- With the tight economy, more and more agents and publishers only

want a query, so it better be an intriguing premise and flawlessly written

in order for anything additional to be requested.

- Don’t begin with a character waking up*. (Oops!)

- Only provide as much back-story in the opening scene as is required

to fill in the reader.

- Only provide details of scenery or weather unless it adds something to

the action/scene.

- Don’t be over-expositional.

- Don’t be cliché.

- Show and not tell – keep the character engaged in action, rather than

thought as much as possible.

- Foreshadowing and tension must be present in the opening.

- Keep flashbacks to a minimum.

- Don’t do a preface as a way to sneak in back-story.

- Don’t spell everything out for the reader – give the reader credit and

keep some mystery.

- Your character must grow as a person from chapter to chapter and

from beginning to end.

- Novel recipe: create a baseline for your character, add an

inciting incident, work your way up to the climax, and bring the

protagonist back to baseline, but a better baseline than in the beginning

(And don’t drag the story after the climax).

- Vary the lengths of sentences and paragraphs.

- Your manuscript must be error-free upon submission. Seems obvious,

but it’s easy to make a few errors with 43,000 words, even when others

edit it. How many published books do you read that still have a typo or

two?

- If the writing doesn’t immediately draw the agents or publishers in,

they won’t read past the first page, so make it good.

Not at all daunting.

It’s my fault for not taking writing more seriously when I was younger that I have to learn this now. In high school, I paid attention to what I found interesting, glossing over the less glamorous lessons on grammar. In college, except for one Creative Writing course, I didn’t develop the craft of writing. Then I waited fifteen years from the time I took that class to begin writing seriously. Now I am reading and writing every spare minute I can snatch. I'm striving to be the best writer I can be.

*Read an excellent article, “Fix Your Beginning”. Continue on in the comments section to see me get reprimanded:

http://kidlit.com/2009/12/07/fix-your-beginning/comment-page-1/#comment-2373