Good Reads

Have you read anything good lately? I just finished a really great book titled The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate. It tells the story of Calpurnia, a twelve-year-old girl in 1899, who feels trapped by the fact that she is coming of age as the twentieth century nears yet her life offers her no hope of doing anything more than cooking, cleaning, sewing, and throwing parties. Over the course of a year she develops a sweet relationship with her cantankerous grandfather as he teaches her to observe and inquire into the natural world. She soon falls in love with science but struggles to see how she will ever be allowed to pursue this passion now that her mother wants her to begin learning the "science of housewivery."

Speaking of good reads, we spent some time in class today thinking about the many good books and other texts we've shared together over the past two years. We keep a chart, smartly titled "Texts We've Read", where we try to document each of the texts we read together in class. Listed are a collection of picture books, chapter books, informational books, newspaper articles, poems, songs, excerpts, and so on. Each nine weeks another of my students inherits the job of "Book Recorder" to write these down for us. To date we have 289 texts recorded. We figured today that there are many other texts we forgot to record along the way- especially the droves of original pieces the kids created and shared out. Still, 289 is a pretty good number. Our goal is to get that up to 300 by Friday.

We began preparing for these final eleven reads by revisiting the titles we've enjoyed in the past 357 days. The kids created a table in their notebooks and began reading through the charts to tally each book under either: Loved It, Liked It, It Was Okay, Didn't Care for It, or Don't Remember It. I did this too. In the end there were more than 80 books that I loved, another 80+ that I liked, around 20 that were okay, three that I didn't care for, and a surprisingly high number that I forgot about.

We didn't get a chance for everyone to finish but we did take time to create a list of our favorite books. From these the kids voted on which they'd most like to revisit in our final days together, as they prepare to move on to the fourth grade. They offered up a really nice list, put their heads down, and then cast five votes. When all was said and done I was amazed by their selections. There were some really wonderful books in there with beautiful language and stirring story lines. Given that many cubbies are filled with the sophomoric likes of Captain Underpants, Dear Dumb Diary, and Diary of a Wimpy Kid it was nice to see them pick some better quality books as their favorites. Had they filled our queue with The Recess Queen or Click, Clack, Moo I might have dropped into a deep depression. Okay, maybe not a deep depression, they are both fine books, but I would have been disappointed.

Here's a sampling of our favorites:

All the Places to Love is a beautiful book by Patricia MacLachlan that tells the story of a family teaching their newest member, a baby girl, of all the wonderful places to love on and around their prairie farm. As with all MacLachlan books the language is poetic. I used to have the first few pages of this book memorized so that I could look right into the kids' eyes as I read those powerful lines and slowly turned the pages. This book has become a go-to book for many purposes. It's funny but I actually forgot reading this book to the kids but thankfully they had not. They not only remembered but also put it in their top eight.

A very, very funny book! This story tells of the power structures in place when a new baby comes home. Soon the baby is making demands and setting up his "office" in the middle of the living room. You'd think the kids would fail to catch most of the humor but they don't. They laugh and laugh the whole way through. This book is the perfect gift for any expectant parents. However, it'd be even better a few months in. Only then could they truly appreciate it.

In this story Jane Yolen tells the story of a small northeastern town who decides to sell itself to Boston so that it can be scooped right out of the Earth to make way for a reservoir that will provide the big city with the water they so badly need. Graves are dug up, trees are cut down, houses are demolished or moved. In the end a little girl sits in a canoe with her grandfather as he points down into the water reminding her of all those important places that helped shape their lives and families. We've read this one three times already yet they still voted, by a very wide margin, to read it again before summer sets in.

After Lester Laminack's mother-in-law was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease his son became confused as to how she could remember the smallest details from her past but could not even recognize his face. Faced with how best to help him understand, Laminack wrote this book. There are a lot of books about Alzheimer's out there but this one is among the very best. The first page is among the best first pages I've ever read. This is the type of story, both serious and sad, that you would expect might make kids uncomfortable. Yet, they love it. I'm always a bit surprised by how warmly they embrace it yet so thankful they do.

There were a few others on our list. We have eleven books in all to read in just three days. Given that two of those days are early dismissals and there's a bevy of other things going on right now I know our work is cut out for us. I'm sure we'll manage.

The Morning After

Well, Harold Camping was wrong. Come to find out the world did not end last night at 6:00 pm. I suppose this means the estimated 200 million people (about 3% of the world's population) that his followers claimed would be raptured to heaven yesterday are probably waking up a bit disappointed this morning. To think this very moment they could have been traipsing along cloud tops with their great-great grandparents but are left, instead, to mow the lawn.

I joke but some people took this whole business very seriously. Faced with the awful task of a long distant move, some believers lightened their load by selling all their worldly possessions. Others, not wishing to get screwed by heaven's unfavorable currency exchange, decided instead to drain their savings accounts.

I prepared by not preparing. This was all a build-up to a party I knew I wasn't invited to anyway. Like the other 97% of the world's population I was just waiting for the righteous to leave so I could take to the streets afterward and raise a little hell. Literally.

But, alas, Harold Camping was wrong and now he is nowhere to be found. I can't wait to hear his excuse. Even more, I can't wait to hear the follow-up stories on those fools who sold their houses, left their families, or made pilgrimages to California to be near the wise soul who owns the multi-million-dollar Christian media empire.That empire, by the way, is sandwiched between an auto shop and a palm reader's store front.

I act as though I believe there will be some amount of vindication to be found in hearing their reactions. But of course there won't. Too many of them are blind followers who will be quick to rationalize this all as a test of their faith. I don't fault them their faith in a greater being. I do, however, fault them in allowing this greater being to be Harold Camping.

Blog Posts from the Soul

A few weeks ago I headed down to our school computer lab to pick up something I had sent to the printer. As is generally the case, there was a sizable stack of unclaimed copies sitting on top. After grabbing my document I flipped through the others to make sure none were mine. Amongst the usual lesson plans and reading logs I found a piece of paper that read:

Haikus from the Soul

Framing a photo of an unnerving robotic alien threatening to attack with razor sharp teeth and claws were two poems.

Alien you're weird
Don't cross the street when he's there
Watch out citizens


Weirdos are freaks
The weirdos come out at night
Do not talk to them

Haikus from the Soul? I didn't know whether to be tickled or concerned. Either way, I couldn't resist. I had to have it so I grabbed the copy and ran. This kid may grow up to be the next Ray Bradbury and I'll have an original copy of one of his earliest works.

Writing is a curious thing. Most people never attempt to write, or at least refuse to share any of their writing, for fear of rejection or ridicule. This most likely came from their experiences in school when every piece they turned in was given back full of red marks and corrections. It's amazing what you can come to believe about yourself when all you ever hear are reminders of what you've done wrong rather than what you've done right.

A few years ago I had the fortune to spend three weeks of my summer participating in the Midlands Writing Project's Summer Writing Institute. For seven hours each day a group of twenty teachers came together to read, talk, think, and write.We wrote poems and advertisements and memories and instructional books and letters and fiction stories and much more. Some of it was pretty good but the vast majority of it was terrible. That was lesson #1...not everything we write needs to be perfect, or even good. We write to write. Along the way an idea or a line or even a single word sticks with us and maybe becomes something of value. Something worth exploring.

At the end of fifteen days together we gathered in a circle to share one of our pieces. Everyone was very nervous about exposing their writing selves in front of the others. No matter how often our teacher had told us we were writers none of us truly believed her. We suspected it in others but certainly not within ourselves. Still, we each took a piece we felt represented our best work and shared it with the class. I suspected we just might prove her wrong.

I quickly volunteered to go first. I've learned this is the easiest path. No one had anything to compare my writing to and since everyone was so nervous about their own pieces they were more than willing to be complimentary of mine in hopes of creating good karma.

I sat in the "author chair" and shared my piece about visiting the beach and losing one of the kids. Even though it was a piece of fiction I started to cry a bit as I read, becoming consumed by the emotion of the story. I looked up and others were crying too. Not because they were laughing, but because they were sad. I realized that, with my written words, I had made that happen. I had made them feel something. My confidence grew just a tad bit.

A few months later I met a new friend, Tim, who convinced me to try keeping a blog. Writing on a blog is less risky than reading your pieces to others. When it's bad you never have to cringe after seeing the reader's reaction. Over the past twenty-two months I've written some stinkers. That's inevitable, though. If you write often you'll get to experience a little, or maybe even a lot, of everything. I think the easiest pieces to write are touching ones because the mere fact that you would share a piece of your soul makes others prone to forgiving awkward sentences. Trying to be funny, on the other hand, is very hard. There's no emotion attached so when you fail it just sits there like the elephant in the room that NO ONE is ignoring. I don't shy away from it though. I tend to go for more quantity than quality. A lot of my humor may miss the mark but if I do it often enough I'm bound to hit the mark a time or two.

I set a goal for myself when I started writing on the blog to publish a piece each week. Many weeks have been easy while a few others have been quite a challenge. A challenge to decide on a topic. A challenge to communicate my thoughts clearly. A challenge to remember what the piece was even supposed to be about.

I didn't want to write "updates" like you might see on social networking sites, but essays with a few memoirs and other genres mixed in. Having a small handful of readers who check in from time to time has helped keep me honest on my piece-a-week deadline. Because Tim has been so dutiful to comment on nearly every piece I've ever written I find that he's generally the audience I keep in mind when writing. However, there are other pieces - say, about Ty - where I think about how I want it to sound in his head as he reads it when he gets older. That's one of the cool things about writing- it lasts forever.

This is my 100th post. I've been looking forward to it for months. Over that time I had all kinds of ideas of things I might write about. I knew I wanted the topic to be writing but how I was going to share that was the real challenge. I've had many great ideas but, as happens all to often, I forgot most of them. I have two small notebooks for keeping notes but too often I forget them in my bag or in a bedside drawer. Perhaps by my 200th post I'll have mastered the habit of always carrying a notebook.

Carrying a small notebook, I hear that's what writers do.

Mother's Day

What if you could write a letter and deliver it to your former self or someone you love, at some key point in the past, warning of mistakes to avoid? Or encouraging yourself to persevere? Or hinting at the many good times that lie ahead? My classroom kids and I recently gave this a shot. With Mother's Day quickly approaching I was determined to have them create something special their moms would enjoy (especially after having forgotten to do anything at all last year).

The kids and I created prewriting notes around our childhoods: stories you've been told about when you were a baby, accidents you had, great vacations you've been on, the best gifts you've ever received, cute things you've said, trouble you've gotten into, sad things that have happened, and things your mom has done to make you feel loved. We took these notes and used them to write letters to our mothers. Letters that might be delivered the morning before our own deliveries - our birth day.

I was worried this might be a little difficult but what they came up with was both amazing and heart-felt. Their notes moved from humorous to nostalgic to touching.

"Don't be alarmed by those pains in your stomach. You're just having a baby. Me in particular."

"Some day you're going to decide to have another baby for me to play with. I'm going to hit her and even push her off the couch. Remember that I still love her though."

"We're going to go on some great vacations together. Don't be surprised if I never want to leave. We'll visit..."

"You might be tempted to buy me socks or underwear for my birthday but I'm going to like toys. I'm going to really LOVE toys!"

"You're going to be the best mom. And I'm going to be your 'special' girl."

After we had our first drafts complete we worked hard to create our own stationary for these letters. The kids carefully drew hearts and swirlies and dots.

"Please don't draw Gamecocks or footballs," I pleaded.

"But my mom LOVES the Gamecocks and football," a few protested.

"I'm sure you think she does," I countered. "That's part of what makes her such a great mom. But for this one day let's give her something other than sports."

After completing their stationary we took more than an hour to meticulously transfer our drafts onto the paper. I was so amazed by their work I ran them down to the office to make copies for my files before the originals were laminated and sent home. I hope they were well received.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

June 11, 1974

Dear Mom,

Today is a BIG day. You are about to give birth to a tiny baby boy. He won't stay tiny very long, though. Soon he will become fat. Really fat. He's going to cry a lot too. Even more than most other babies. Nothing you do will help. He will scream through your very best efforts to rock him, walk him, and sing to him. Remember that this is not his fault. He cannot help it. With time and patience this will pass and he will fill your days with laughter and smiles.

You'll want to keep a close eye on this little guy as he learns to crawl. Keep him in your sights - especially when going out of the house. He might one day crawl away from you, pull down his diaper, and leave a "present" on someone else's floor. Though it may not seem like it at the time this will one day be very funny. There will be other mistakes made. Should you decide to dress him up for a studio photograph you may want to consider having him use the potty first. This will save you some frustration and him some shame.

There will be many good times ahead. He will say silly things like "pamshoo" for shampoo and "mertmane" for airplane. He'll cruise the house on his Tike bike. He'll grow to be a good listener and baseball crazy. Time will fly as you take family trips to the Ozarks and to Arkansas. You will celebrate the excitement of new pets and cry together when they die. There will be church gatherings, movies, and games. Most of all there will be laughter. Hold on to as many of these moments as you can. They are easier to forget than you could ever imagine.

You're going to make a great mom. You'll give him lots of hugs, plenty of Band-aids, and a lot of love. All your hard work will help him grow up and go to college, become a teacher, and have a loving family of his own.

So brace yourself not just for this one BIG day but for the many smaller ones that will follow. They are all just as important and just as special. Enjoy your journey!

Love,
Your son, Chris

All the Latest News

I really enjoy the newspaper. As long as I can remember Tricia and I have had a subscription. Before we had kids we'd spend every Saturday and Sunday morning in bed reading the St. Louis Post Dispatch. Being the only paper in a relatively large city, the Post Dispatch was a beefy paper. The front page was regularly fourteen to sixteen pages long and there were a wide variety of sections from which to choose.

We now live in a smaller city and have found it somewhat difficult to adjust to a smaller paper. The State has three daily sections: Front page, Metro, and Sports. And that's on a good day. Monday's paper often combines Sports and Metro so that there are only two sections. Two very thin sections.

World news is largely omitted - seemingly to make as much space as possible for football articles. Though the college football season is only five months long it dominates the paper year-round. Today when I opened up the paper I wasn't surprised to see that there was a large picture of a Gamecock football on the front page that took up half of the top fold. My class and I studied this once and found that more days than not the top fold is dominated by college football headlines.

Yet I still love reading the paper. Each morning I eat a bowl of Mini-Wheats, drink a tall glass of orange juice, and browse the headlines for something of interest. Today there were a number of things that I thought were, for better or worse, interesting...


Crystal "Shy" Roberts climbed the roughly 10-foot pole at the Penthouse Club, gripping it's metallic surface with her thighs as it swayed a foot in both directions.
Early on a Friday night in April, Roberts played to mostly small groups of men seated in low-slung chairs around small cocktail tables at the Horry County club. Many of the men wore polo shirts and baseball caps and smoked cigars as dancers moved from lap to lap through the room.

This was from an article titled "Golfers Flock to Strip Clubs." I thought at first I was reading a Carl Hiaasen novel. I'm sure, though, Carl Hiassen would be greatly insulted to be credited with such artistic phrases as "gripping it's metallic surface with her thighs."

Though it starts quite steamy the article turns away from stripper poles and lap dances, talking instead about revenue, tourism, zoning, and the migration of North Carolina strippers. Much like a visit to a strip club, I can only imagine, I finished the article feeling dirty and unfulfilled.

*****

Page two of the front page was surprisingly about the recent Royal Wedding between Prince William and Kate Middleton. I was careful to skip right past this one. I'm on a quest to be the one and only American with access to television who knows absolutely nothing about this wedding. It's a challenge, to be sure, but worth the effort.

*****

I found that modesty is not something our governor is afflicted with. When grading herself after her first 100 days, Nikki Haley responded "Effort, absolutely A+++. I sleep and breathe this every day. I want everything done yesterday. For accomplishments, I'd honestly give myself and A. We are so excited for what we've done in 100 days. We really, really are."

*****

The classifieds, as always, were a bit strange. There was an ad that read:

Dental Internship
for enthusiastic fast learner considering becoming a dentist. College degree required.

Don't you HAVE to have a degree to be a dentist? Wouldn't an internship be part of that previous degree? Wouldn't the earned degree demonstrate that you have already moved past "considering becoming a dentist"? Is the degree in something all together different - like English or Art History? Can these people learn to become dentists with no more than an internship? Maybe we should all look a little more carefully at those framed degrees in the dentist office.

There were a lot of dogs for sale. Some came with papers that demanded a $500 price tag, or more. Others were mutts. I felt bad for the ones named Pinky, Prissy (who they think is a Border Collie) and Tinkerbelle (who not so surprisingly is a Chihuahua who "likes to sit on your lap all day"). Who'd want a dog with stupid names like those? There was another dog named Zeus. Be honest, which would you rather have your neighbors hearing you call from the back door, Prissy or Zeus?

Others didn't have names but were identified as being pure-bloods from breeds that I can only assume they made up. What exactly is a Golden Doodle or a Maltipoo?

Some guy had the nerve, in the $100 and Under section, to advertise...

Firewood free, you cut XXX-3499 from tree that fell in storm

Talk about nerve. This guy had a tree toppled by a storm and rather than clean it up, or even pay someone to come out and do it for him, he's advertising it as though he's doing everyone else a favor. If this works just imagine the possibilities. Both Tom Sawyer and Mark Twain would be proud.

*****

A bunch of women are getting married. I presume there's a groom but he's not in any of the pictures. Instead, there are a number of women in wedding dresses leaning against trees, standing in formal living rooms, or enjoying a day at the fountain. I can't help but wonder if other people look at these same pictures and sort them into two groups:" really pretty" and "good for you."

*****

You probably won't be surprised to know that more people died yesterday. Quite a few of them really. Some were young but most were old. Sometimes they try to trick you by running a photo of an old person from when they were younger. I'm not sure why they do this but it seems kind of depressing, even for the Obituary page. What really bothers me though is when they don't tell you how they died. When I die I want them to skip all the formulaic "was born...," "received a BS in Education from...," and "survived by..." nonsense and get right down to business. No details will be too sensitive. And if I have the gall to die peacefully in my sleep I hope someone takes the artistic license to spice it up a bit. Make it worth the readers' time.


I wish there was more but as I said earlier it's a thin paper and I don't care all that much about football.