Year of "Cerebral" Work

Holy hiatus, bloggers! It's been ages since I've posted.

And the reason for that is that lately, I've been working on an enormous revision. This is a post-apocalyptic, dystopian political story. And it's not YA -- it's adult!

Genius Agent Holly has given me lots to think about. Big things. Scope. Stakes. Character.

These things are so hard, I had to think about them for a few weeks before even pulling the draft back up. And after I thought and thought and talked to a lot of people about really weird stuff, I am now writing. Writing!

My goal is to finish mid-February.

Because I want to stay in this all-out flow. And at the end of February, I'm teaching Oregon's first-ever Firefighting Composition Class!

In 2011, I did a ton of writing. I revised a YA literary story, scribbled essays for the NEH Institute in Oahu, designed the firefighting class, penned the dystopian novel, was accepted for publication by the American Journal of Nursing, and took two notebooks of notes on Southeast Asia in Honolulu.

I've read, too. I figure that over the last year, I've graded 600,000 words of student work. That's 2,400 pages!

Also, I've got a new curriculum for my winter research writing class: "Beyond Super-Sized; What Food Does For--And To--Us."

Still to come, in 2012, is an article in a State University of New York anthology on Southeast Asia.

Whew! It was a big year for my brain.

But when I put a sponge in the microwave, or miss the exit to get home, when I check myself in the school parking lot for pants or a skirt, or something, on my bottom half, I know that not much has changed.

Yep. I'm still me.

Our Paths Do Cross

You wouldn't think it, but our professional paths do cross, Dave's and mine.

Often, volunteer fire fighters from Dave's department are in my writing classes. They tell of rescues, of danger, of life with the guys at Station One. Sometimes, I "poach" a potential prospect. I see organization, committment, clear thinking, and I ask the student if they've ever considered fire fighting.

Then, there's my own writing. A few years ago, after a fire ravaged through Lake Tahoe, I wrote, of all things, a travel article about it. Dave and I had left the kids behind, had driven to Angora Lake, where we stood at the lookout over acres and acres of ash, a flag unfurling above it all.

And recently, there has come the perfect pairing of these two seemingly contrasting worlds. After a handful of months, I've created Oregon's first Fire Officer Composition class. Choosing the literature was fun--and tricky. I found a slew of excellent memoirs, novels, short stories, and essays, before I ended up picking really action-y stuff, stuff on smoke jumpers, on 9-11.

Over two full days, these officers will read and write their own stories: their most significant call, how to ventilate or how to place a ladder.

This is not report writing, the local chiefs have told me. They want narrative, narrative, narrative.

Undoubtedly, after reading and reading and writing and writing, these public servants will be much different thinkers. I believe that I will be, too.

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?

Staying In

The best thing that's happened to me in weeks and weeks happened last night at 8.

I dyed my hair. Purple.

Purple was not the color on the box. That color was brown, natural, back-to-basics brown.

But the thirsty blonde highlights soaked up all the purple, and now my head looks like a grape Popsicle.

It's an easy fix, the Loreal hotline says: wash my hair twice a day until the purple fades away.

But I can't go out. Not like this.

So I've made a nice shepard's pie to take to the fire department. I've vacuumed, and wrapped Christmas gifts. I've sat in my room, thinking about how I need to be a more patient mom, about what I might bring to my dad's on Christmas, about how grateful I am to have a hardworking, kind, bright agent like Holly. About how beautifully Dominic's map of America is turning out. About how I'll revise my writing curriculum for winter. About what I might write next. About how I will finish Ape House today, and start Hunger Games tomorrow.

I've sat in my room with my purple head, and I've thought and breathed and cried because of how much I've missed that.

Art Attack!

Art is everywhere, and I'm loving it!

This weekend in Eugene, Mary, Daney, and I went to an incredible art fair. There was pottery, paintings, silver, silkscreenings, soap. Weavers spun wool, glass blowers blew, and Young Bollywood dancers pranced across a packed stage.

When I came home, I framed and put up a few of the kids' pieces: Dominic's bright bald guy sitting on a couch with peace pillows, Daney's watercolor owl under the moon, Rees' colored pencil "Duk Bil Platapoos."

Tomorrow in class, I'm sharing my love; we're doing a lesson on writing essay titles with a billion little worksamples from Pacific Northwest artists.

One of the things I love about art is how long it takes. That it's a process. a quick change, making the world different, better.

I've planted all kinds of bulbs and perenialls outside. Nothing will pop for four or five months, but the seeds are all there, the color is waiting.

If you are in need of some reds, greens, and purples, if you're craving pretty, look up Catherine Denton's blog. You might win yourself some inspiration!

Cerebral Week

By Thursday night when my writing group resumed after our summer break, my head was seriously swirling.

In four days, I had drafted a new curriculum for the community college writing classes I start teaching on Monday. I began writing a new novel with my husband. I critiqued a fabulous manuscript, went to an inservice day at school, and penned an 8-page essay about my dad. (A couple of these were done simultaneously. Guess which?)

Plus, there was the middle school math homework: Dominic's statistics and Daney's factoring.

Thank goodness for the season premier of "Glee."

Nothing soothes me like some Sue Sylvester.

Call Me Radical

The March 15, 2010 issue of Newsweek argues that "The Key to American Education" is firing "bad" teachers. What "bad" means is not addressed. But the magazine's blame on the "relative decline of American education..." lands clearly with teacher tenure and teachers' unions.

Really?

Again, as the education system is evaluated, contributing factors are ignored. Where is consideration for poverty, for family structure, for lack of health care and proper nutrition, for the media's influence?

While I believe Newsweek's claim that "...ranked against European schoolchildren, America does about as well as Lithuania, behind at least ten other nations." But where is the comparison between single-parent families? What are those kids eating over there? What are they watching on TV? What video games are they playing?

Here in Oregon, where there is no teacher tenure, the increasing difficulty of Leaving No Child Behind can't be blamed on "bad" teachers. Simply, educating students is nearing impossible here because of everything else. Because after those students slept in a car the night before, when they've had Fritos and Pepsi for breakfast, when their mom is on meth, they are tested on a two-page writing sample titled, "My Favorite Family Tradition."

Can anyone say "Maslow's Hierarchy?"

I want American education to be better. I want it to be the best in the world. But teachers aren't responsible for that. Believe me, we're doing what we can.

How about this? How about instead of blaming teachers for America's academic failure, we look to our society. Or how about just fixing the problem?

$100,000 yearly salaries would lure some pretty qualified educators from business, medical, and government fields (The one sentence with which I agree is Newsweek's inclusion of a study which shows that American "teachers are recruited from the bottom third of college-bound high-school students," of which I was one. "Finland tales the top 1o percent.") So, yes, there's the money issue. And while we're finally spending, let's offer two high-protein, unprocessed, organic meals a day. For free. Let's hand over the problem kids to law enforcement, and ratchet up suspensions and expulsions, minimizing learning distractions. And class sizes? Under 20. With support staff. Like Japan. Curriculum? Reformed. It's out with New Math and back to basics. The stuff we learned, and understood. Memorizing times tables. Cursive. Plus deep appreciation for the arts.

It only takes money, right? Money, and a good, hard look at where education is failing, and why. And neither has anything to do with tenure or unions.