Taking A Break

Aloha from Oahu!

While I'm studying here on a National Endowment for the Humanities Fellowship, I'll be taking a little blog break. (I'm trying to learn, and write, and organize a presentation, oh, and figure out which bus gets to the beach).

Mahalo.

Frozen in Time

So yesterday, my community college writing classroom was visited by the vice president.

I was nervous, I told my husband, because the lesson was a tricky one (the integration of implications), because it was the vice president coming, because even though I trusted my students completely, anything, anything could happen.

And it did.

The clock stopped.

Now, you might think there could be a worse distraction. And, there definitely could be.

I had practiced, I had prepped my incredible students. I had ironed, even got my hair cut.

But I had no idea how dependent I was on that cheeky little clock. Starting class, giving the 5-minute warm-up activity, stopping for a break, resuming, ending...there was no measure for any of it.

Technology -- basic technology -- had failed me.

Sure, the lesson went on. There were popcorn kernels and writing prompts. Reflection. Analysis. Evaluation. The students were their incredible selves: engaged, delightful, critical thinkers in full attendance.

Halfway through the hour(?), I stopped sweating it. If we started at 9:47 and ended at 9:47, if anything went super south, I convinced myself, I could pretend the whole class never happened.

Here's Why

I haven't been blogging:

Because somehow we're five whole weeks into the term already.

Because I've been ironing out a new speech curriculum.

Because Dominic has had track meets at the middle school.

Because my sister Erika and her husband Ryan and their incredible 11 week-old baby came to visit from Sacramento.

Because I'm writing a little, and thinking about e-books a lot.

Because with a monthly grocery bill total of over $1500, that's oodles of shopping and unpacking and cooking!

Best Easter ever? Writing group pizza! Four writers, four men, eight kids hopped up on marshmallow eggs.

How about you? You getting any writing done?

I Have A Problem With Time

Since high school, the part of writing I've struggled most with has been organization. It's not introduction or conclusion so much; it's transition, specifically, timing.

When I write, I lose all track of time. Literally. Like, on the page. I have no idea what day I'm writing about, or the day that came before it, or what day comes after.

It's an epic problem.

Because when I'm done writing, and I go through that first draft, I have sometimes 11days in a week in my stories, or maybe 4. Fridays follow Mondays. Afterschool detention precedes breakfast. That sort of thing.

Putting the hours and days and weeks into a logical timeline is one of the last things I do in revision. Because it's SO HARD! Because mine is SO QUIRKY! Because I can't GET IT!

I know. There are ways to avoid this. Outlines. Plot summaries. Those things.

But all that gets in the way.

So I just write.

All out of order.

Exactly like my hours and days in real life.

I never know what day it is. Or what day tomorrow is. Or what time two hours from now will be.

This is one of those things that is really tricky for me.

And I think it will be that way for many 11-day weeks to come.

Blogging About Blogging

When I get up around 6, I go to the local online newspaper to see whether Dave had a hard or okay night at the fire station. Then I visit all of my cyber friends (like YOU!). Then I check Google Analytics to see whether that gaping hole in the southeast has filled in at all (come ON, Carolinas!).

After several minutes of that, the green tea has kicked in, and I'm ready to write. Or not.

If I don't have something in my heart to share, I either scramble spinach eggs for my cuties, or I try to make myself a cup of coffee (despite working in an amazing coffee shop for years in college, I can NOT manage to make coffee).

If there's something I dreamed about sharing all night, I quickwrite it up and slap an image on it.

Either way, I try to get off the computer fast, so it's not the first thing my kids see when they hop out of bed.

When they're off to school, and if I don't have teaching or have finished, I make Blog Round 2. Sometimes by then I've actually come up with something to blog.

Oh, and then. I do a little writing. And I mean little.

Right now, I'm revising a YA paranormal for an agent. And I'm thinking/plunking away on an adult sci-fi short story. And on a non-fiction piece on epilepsy.

And in between all that, I talk with Dave about his shift, or about what Reesie broke or Dominic built while he was gone; and I meet my friends for coffee or lunch; and I grade, clean, cook, and grocery shop. I do yoga and walk or run. I spend time in the kids' classrooms and send my brothers and sisters love notes. And I read. (Stephen King's Under the Dome sits on my nightstand like a granite boulder.) All that, so I have something to blog about.

Do you know what I mean?

A Gem, To Me

Time online claims that "Precious" is "too powerful for tears."

I disagree.

The way Precious' mother Mary (Mo'Nique) belittles and berates her teenage daughter killed me. And it was nothing compared to the crying I did with Mariah Carey, Precious' social worker, when Mary explains and excuses her abominations.

It is exactly this abuse, this smashing of self worth, that teachers combat daily.

So when Newsweek whines that "Precious" is another movie that keeps down African Americans, I was livid.

What about the essence of the story: how Precious takes back her child? Where she chooses to try, despite her lack of education and skill, to be a good parent? That although, yes, the odds are not in her favor, she is willing to give it her best shot.

How is that unlike the spirit of the first African Americans?

It's the same struggle, is it not? For freedom, for children, for education.

"Precious was lucky to find the alternative school that could help her," Newsweek states. "But that's fiction. In reality, there are far more Preciouses than there are teachers to help them. Movies such as this one allow us to forget that."

How sad. And untrue.

I thought a valuable movie like this reminded us that there are indeed helpful teachers.

Because there are.

A lot of them.