Taking the Plunge

Two Thumbs Up!

Yes, I've complained, in this space, about teachers who would rather show a movie than assign a difficult writing assignment. Or the colleague who screened the World Cup last spring instead of administering a final exam.

Well, I'm guilty too, I guess. Except this assignment comes with a different kind of a twist.

My AP Lang cherubs are finishing up Among Schoolchildren, Tracy Kidder's 1989 non-fiction look at public education in America. Specifically, public education in a challenging school district.

Kidder spent a year inside 5th-grade teacher Christine Zajac's classroom at the Kelly School in Holyoke, MA. Kelly, located in the Flats, featured a student body facing life's hard edges: poverty, language barriers, cultural differences, and no support at home.

The author's main point? You can make it ~ if you try.

Every year about this time, I slip a cool 1980s flick into the VCR (oh, I'm sure it's out on DVD, but I like that retro-feeling). I screen "Stand and Deliver," the dynamic salute to math teacher Jaime Escalante, and his successful crusade to teach some of LA's worst cases how to master calculus.

Like most of my assignments, the kiddos don't get away with just watching the movie. They have to pay attention, take notes and, ultimately, draw a written parallel between Among Schoolchildren and "Stand and Deliver."

Some struggle with this assignment. Some bomb it, thinking a video at the end of the quarter means a time to kick back, relax and put their brains in neutral. But most, in my middle-class world, embrace the challege. It's not an easy assignment, you see ~ just different.

He Who Shall Not Be Named...

Returning to Room 215 today, after a three-day weekend spent squiring my eldest around to job interviews.

The Muggles will all be in an uproar this week. It's the end of the first quarter; my journalistas ~ both of the newspaper and yearbook variety ~ have deadlines to meet, and I will be spending quite a bit of my "spare" time assessing student performance so I can put those little cyphers in Ye Olde Grade Book.

The cherubs need grades, but of course, so they can show off their savoir-faire on college apps. So in the great rush to report cards, I've got to do my part.

The festivities conclude at the beginning of next week with "teacher workdays" ~ two consecutive days designed for us to mingle, grade, munch, grade, and ultimately, attend a couple of mindless inservices.

Ugh.

The good news on this front, though, is Principal Man's recent executive decision. He's deemed that we should be treated like "professionals," and has given the his teachers the go-ahead to stay home next Monday. The assumption, of course, is that we will be working. Telecommuting, as it were.

So, why would I compare PM to the dreaded Voldemort? No reason, really. It just seemed apropos.

Sounding Board

I fell asleep in the lobby of the Bethesda Marriott this morning.

No, I wasn't a hotel guest who'd been turned out of her room. I was grading papers while waiting on Ella Numera Una, who spent the a.m. interviewing at a local jobs fair.

A comfy combination of sun streaming in through a large lobby window, the droning of CNN on a nearby plasma, the snug recesses of an overstuffed chair and a sizeable pile of AP Lang essays lulled me into a mid-morning nap.

Not to complain, but one of the reasons I've posted so irregularly this fall is because of my workload. The truth about teaching is that it's not a nine-to-five job. Can't get up and leave in the middle of a kiddo's question; can't leave the stresses of the workplace at the workplace.

The job follows me, 24/7. I'm either thinking about a lesson, planning a lesson, grading a pile of student papers or cogitating an assignment that will, most certainly, lead to more papers, more grading.

Yes, I have some colleagues who are fine with the relaxing pace of arriving at 7:30 and departing shortly after 2 p.m, or thereabouts. They screen films for their students; they assign few papers; they never stress at all. In fact, one of our teachers showed a World Cup match for his 10th-graders last spring, in lieu of giving a final exam.

Unfortunately ~ for me, at least ~ I'm not one of those profesoras. I firmly believe that a cherub can't properly matriculate without a little deep brain stimulation, of the old-fashioned kind.

So, I guess as long I'm still in the game, I'll keep up the complaint. And catch some shut-eye when I can.

Editor's Note: The serene sight posted above features the sun sinking into North Carolina's Currituck Sound. I visited The OBX a couple of weeks ago, to re-charge the old batteries. What a sensationally serene place!

Mrs. Scribe Reviews: The Next Queen of Heaven

I've been giggling in bed again.

I'm an inveterate page-turner, and love the comfort of a good book in my warm upstairs nest. I'm an active reader, who prefers to immerse herself in the tale at hand, and block out the rest of the world. I often get so involved in the story that I actually react ~ out loud.

Which is why I've been tee-heeing ~ and, at times downright cackling ~ of late, while turning the pages of Gregory Maguire's The Next Queen of Heaven.

Our heroine is Tabitha Scales, a potty-mouthed, sexed-up, blissed-out high school vamp, who cares much more about her social life than for her family or her studies. Her mom, Leontina, is a thrice-divorced holy-roller who wants so desperately to belong, but really just hovers around the fringes of her congregation.

Maguire, who wrote the bestseller-to-Broadway blockbuster, Wicked, is no stranger to satire. His most recent silly social commentary takes place this time in the Upstate New York town of Thebes. But unlike the great, walled city-state of Greek mythology, this dreary place has been turned topsy-turvy. Leontina gets bopped in the head by a heavy plastic religious tchotchke. And everything in the cold, dark town goes straight to hell.

Non-believers, fundamentalists, Catholics, gays and nuns frolic throughout Maguire's 368 pages. Members of the Cliffs of Zion Radical Radiant Pentecostal Fellowship cavort with the congregants at Our Lady of Something or Other next door. The gay choir director forms a non-ecclesiastical bond with Sister Coyne and her merry band of dessicated nuns. In the meantime, Tabitha and her odd younger brothers are busy putting the fun back into dysfunctional.

I chuckled. I snorted. I smirked. I whooped all the way through Maguire's treatise on the innate insecurities and prejudices that reside within us all. His premise is ridiculous, which makes infinitely more sense than it should. His characters are drawn so far outside the lines that they resemble the ridiculous caricatures whom we see daily, both on Fox News and in the frozen food aisle. And Maguire's round-about construction just adds to the merriment.

Into all this mess, a little child is born. Seriously. A perfect punctuation to a fantastically allegorical tale.

Amen, Brother Maguire!

Power Nap

Here's Pie in Your Eye

La Familia Scribe does love a good pie. In fact, one could say that we Scribes are fully invested in the Power of Pie. Which is why I didn't bat an eyelash when my youngest asked for some pie-baking implements. Sort of a care package sans the baked goodies.

Knowing pies don't transport well through the US Mail, she just wanted the implements to bake said goodies her own self.

So, her mamasita went to work. First into the care package box? Pie: 300 Tried-and-True Recipes for Delicious Homemade Pie, by Ken Haedrich. Not being a "pie expert" myself, I Googled and this tome came highly recommended. Amazon dubs this the "big book with the shortest possible title." I figured that with so many recipes, Ella would be able to dabble a tad, before she got bored.

Next, I included what I would term "pie essentials." Rolling pin. Measuring cups and spoons. The little do-hickey thingy that helps one blend the Crisco and the flour together in the making of the crust. She informed me that she already had pie plates and mixing bowls, acquired from the local thrift store, so she was soon ready to embark on her tasty adventure.

And what has she wrought from the box I so carefully taped and addressed and sent off to college one week ago? Well, so far, three "exotic" (by my modest standards, anyway) pies, and a blog, to boot. Yes, she's the one with the photoblog...so now she has a blog dessert, as well.

Entitled Power of Pie, my chica's newest contribution to the blogosphere is a how-to, what-if, and can-do kind of esoteric ramble. A college kid experimenting, in a good way, and writing down her mistakes ~ and her successes ~ along the way.

Some recent tidbits, besides the Rasberry Crumb, the Five-Spice Pear Apple and the Snickers Brownie (pictured above) offerings? Well, some well-considered advice. Remember that the T stands for tablespoon...Tsp is one-third of that. Also, there's a big diff between one-and-a-half tablespoons and one-and-a-half cups. And one parting shot: Too much sugar decidedly does not spoil a crust...just makes it a tad sweeter!

My youngest tells me that she's not eating all these pies herself. Just baking them, photographing them, blogging about them and then sharing them. And I know for a fact her friend JR was not disappointed. You reckon?

Wastin' Away in Margaritaville

Today, we focus on Mama Kat's Writing Prompt #4:
Share a photo that represents how you see yourself.

I keep threatening to give it all up and move to the beach. Someday, I swear I will. But for now, I'm content to hang out in Room 215 and make the best of things.

In the meantime, I'll just travel the world ~ when time and funds permit ~ in search of that stretch of sandy and sunny perfection.

The OBX has won my heart. Grand Cayman Island's 7-Mile Beach runs a close second. This snap features Ella Numera Dos and her Mamacita. No margaritas were harmed in the capturing of this image. Actually, I think they might have been piña coladas.

I Can See Clearly Now

I'm Just Tickled to Be Here!

A few thoughts upon returning to "civilization" from my OBX sojourn:

• I'm actually excited to be walking back through the door of Room 215 this morning.
• Don't eat too much spicy, steamed shrimp when you're at the beach...quite difficult to get the Old Bay out from under the ol' fingernails.
• Today's Tuesday...time to read the latest installment of "...and what happens then..."
• I actually had enough energy yesterday afternoon to get some grading done, after all. I have to say, though...some of those freshman efforts are torture!
• I think Ella Numera Dos ~ also known as MOO ~ is a much better photog than I. Witness her Superior Snap, above, of one of the wild horses getting some beach time in at the OBX.
• Big Blue is a great roadie, considering the trauma I've put her through recently.105,000 miles and counting!
• We're entering Week 6 of the school year. Does this mean June is right around the corner?
• I think Mr. Fairway missed me...a teeny-tiny little bit!
• Leftovers are always better!
• Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home...

Under My Umbrella

I snapped this Sunday night, not long after the sun went down but light still lingered on Currituck Sound, the placid body of water that separates North Carolina's Outer Banks ~ fragile barrier islands that cling to the angry Atlantic ~ from the mainland.

For some reason, this cafe umbrella at the OBX fish taco joint in the Town of Duck was all askew ~ or whompy-jawed, as my Tejas forebears might have said. I seized the moment to capture the image, because the moment seemed right.

I'm headed back to "civilization" today. For the record, I didn't get any grading done over my long weekend. I swam in the ocean (yes, with air temps hovering near 80, Mama Atlantica didn't give me the cold shoulder), walked on the beach, napped in a rusty aluminum and canvas folding chair, and watched eight episodes of last season's "Brothers & Sisters."

I can't stay up late on Sunday nights, so have gotten in the habit of acquiring the previous season of said show in September, and watching it in a sort of Sally Field Marathon.

I stopped at a favorite North Carolina BBQ place on my way in; will order to-go from another on my way out. And I plan to be back in December, when winter will fleck the dunes with frost and the only birds to greet me will be the seagulls, who never seem to leave this place.

OBX in the Pink

If all goes according to plan, this will be my view out the back door tomorrow at about dusk. Headed on over to my beloved OBX, to relax, decompress ~ and grade a few papers.

I hope to have smooth sailing on the road trip down, unlike my "Oopsie!" back in June. Wish me luck!

Mrs. Scribe Reviews: Hummingbirds

Today I'm wearing two hats: As a reviewer and as a social commentator, per Mama Kat's instructions: Describe a job you would absolutely never want to do.

I wanted to like this book. I really did.

Hummingbirds, by Joshua Gaylord, created a buzz in my teacher's soul. On the surface, the freshman novelist seems to have written a roman à clef ~ a true-life story hiding behind a façade of fiction. Gaylord, you see, teaches high school English at an East Side prep school in New York; Gaylord's protagonist, Leo Binhammer, does the same.

It is there, Dear Readers, that I hope the similarities end. The novel's characters ~ students and teachers at the "exclusive" Carmine-Casey School for Girls (an East Side NYC enclave) ~ weave an intricate web of relationships so interdependent that they occasionally become downright creepy.

Dixie Doyle, Gaylord's alpha-female, is spoiled and self-centered, as only these types of young women can be. But unlike the "popular" girls at Our Humble High School, where I teach, Dixie is pretty static, and under Gaylord's control, comes off as a one-dimensional nitwit. Dixie's nemesis, Liz Warren, is a cliché from the get-go. The "brainy" Liz earns A's on her papers but not much warmth in my head nor my heart.

The dual protagonists in this novel ~ English teachers Binhammer and Ted Hughes (named, on purpose I suppose, after the tragic poet Sylvia Plath's misogynist husband) ~ not only teach their protégés, but apparently lust after them, as well. I have to admit that after I read the author's take on Binhammer's Coed Naked classroom fantasies (my characterization, not his), I had to put the book down for a good long while.

Not all is lost, however, if you read this novel. Gaylord does have a way with words. I have to say that I enjoyed the lilt of the author's prose. I hope, though, that his next effort can reach a little bit farther. Texture, I've always believed, can heal the fractures that sometimes develop in a work of fiction.

I've often thought that I could turn my 16 years in a high school classroom into some kind of a book ~ a novel, a collection of essays, a what have you. There's so much raw material in this microcosm of the "real world" that I believe even the Mean Girls who roam our halls could garner the reader's sympathy. I'm a little sad, then, that this hasn't happened in Hummingbirds.

Yes, I realize high school ~ and all the attendant characters therein ~ is a stereotype unto itself. Those who rule the school are often at the apex of their lives ~ in other words, it's all downhill from senior year on out. And we always root for the smart nerds to win. But a secondary education is so much more than that ~ a social petri dish that is just waiting to grow some fascinating characters. With Hummingbirds, I'm afraid that hasn't happened.

Cow Tipping