Whose Head is Harder?

        This past Friday, my teaching partner Holly and I had--what will be---our monthly "auction."

         The incentive plan we devised to use this year involves "dollars."  The students earn a dollar if they come to school on time and stay all day, one for good behavior in class, one for doing their homework, one for appropriate hall behavior, and a dollar for good behavior in their reading class.  There are extra ways to earn money as well---if they have a classroom job that week, wearing a uniform, and so on.

         We are thinking that a trickle of economic knowledge will flow into our students'  brains.  We also wanted to get away from the punishing, the "taking away" syndrome.  Students earn the bucks, or they don't.

           Our auction was a chance for the students to spend their earnings.  Some of the things we auctioned off were: mechanical pencils, Jonas Brothers backpacks (yuck!), still-in-their-wrappers McDonalds toys, new Pound Puppies, and other assorted junk.  Since they are in 3rd grade, they shrieked and hooped and hollered with every item that we held up during the pre-show.

        Both Holly and I had warned the class, for several days, that since this was a private sale, we have the right to refuse service to anyone.  Just because they had money did not mean they would be able to bid.  I used this example:  If you go into a store and act foolish and disruptive, they will escort you out of the store. It doesn't matter if you have $100 in your pocket; they don't want you there.  Some of us are acting silly and disruptive in the class; we are going to refuse your business.

          Before the bidding began, we let each potential bidder know how many dollars they had to spend.  Those who were not going to be able to bid were told so, and I did not even bother to total up their dollars.

           The students who were excluded from the sale are being disruptive and disrespectful on a daily, countless-times-a-day basis.  They don't earn free-choice at recess and instead, have to run/walk the track. (Some of them are becoming quite the runners, since they do it every day.)  They did not earn our twice-monthly fun activity.

           I think some of them think I am going to soften.  They believe that eventually, I will give in, that I will grow tired and allow them to do whatever they please (like some of their parents).  They're wrong.

photo by godalwayshungry

          After all, my parents could attest to how stubborn and persistent and hard-headed I am...

Blogging...Cheaper Than Therapy

        I spent yesterday evening with my daughter, my granddaughter, and her mother-in-law.  It was delightful; all three of those girls are warm and engaging and intriguing...

       Riley's grandma (I'm grammy) was not sure what a blog was.  Why blog?  What was I getting out of it?

       I began this blog over the summer, when I had some time off.  I wasn't having my voice heard, for a variety of reasons, so I started tapping away on my laptop. 

        It's opened up a whole new world.  There is someone from India whose writing I found and enjoy, thanks to blogging.

       There are a number of writers who are encouraging me and cheering me along, thanks to blogging.

        There are a bunch of teachers who "get it" when we each complain/commiserate about our backs that are breaking yet our spirits have not, thanks to blogging.

        By the way, teachers as well as other writers who have not discovered Robert Brault, check him out. (However, I guess over 60,000 have found him, so I was in the minority until this morning.)  You will laugh, instead of cry.  I have a suspicion he is channeling Aaron Sorkin and Robin Williams and Mark Twain and a whole lot of other brilliant writers/comedians---all that great stuff could not come from one person---but I don't care what the source/inspiration is. It hits the spot.

       Here is one his quotes to end with:

"I was the architect of my dreams but forgot to contract a builder."
                                      ---Robert Brault

       

25 Words or Less

       Becky Povich, a blogger who has the coveted "Blogger Blackberry" (It instantly alerts her to new postings on the hundreds of blogs she follows; it sends out a high-pitched alarm that only Becky can hear, and allows her to--within seconds of a new post--comment on the post. I'm serious. I'm going to have to get one of those.) put out information on several contests on her blog.  

       I actually entered one yesterday.  Okay, I admit, it was easy because 1) the entry had to be 25 words or less and 2) I could use a joke that I regularly use with my husband as the basis for the story.

      Try it out.  Go to  Gotham's site (you have to page down, and the contest is right under the "Another Student Success Story" section---there's a photo of a pretty young woman with it) to find the "Hint Fiction" contest guidelines.  It's challenging condensing a story down til it's that succinct, it's fun to write a title that helps tell the story (and the title does not count as far as the 25 words), and already I have received a note of acceptance.  (Well, they said they have received my electronic submission, so I guess they are "accepting" the transmission.)

photo by becca.elpy

       Paring down a story to that extremely short length is a great stretch for a writer. Word choice is crucial, apostrophes are our friends (because you can combine two words into one via contractions) and hinting at something much larger is the ultimate in "show, don't tell."

What Happened With That Crowbar?

         Someone that I met at the Saturday Writers group is Becky Povich.  She is writing a series of slice-of-life stories; it will be out sometime this fall, published by High Hill Press.

        The title intrigues me:  That Crowbar Changed Everything.  I've asked Becky about the title, and mum's the word.  She's like a vault. Sealed shut and won't open, no matter how much cajoling ot threatening takes place. I have stalked her.  I have hired a team of private detectives.  I have tortured her with bamboo shoots under her fingernails. Nothing has worked...

      I'd like to invite writers to write a short synopsis for the title story.  What kind of story revolves around a crowbar?  (And no fair if you have read the collection and know what the crowbar story is really about.  You have to make something up that is different from the actual story.)

photo by Davescunningplan's photostream

A Writing Ephiphany

         Well, perhaps the term "ephiphany" is a bit strong.  And curiously, this thought has occurred to me before, but only in fleeting glimpses, and then it vanishes, as if never having appeared at all...all memory of it gone. Last night it reappeared as part of a stupid sitcom.

       One of the characters was speaking of a crush.  The reason why they did not act on their feelings was so they could "keep on dreaming, instead of dealing with the reality as a failure."

        That is why I don't submit things.  As long as I don't send anything out and risk receiving rejection letters, I can hold onto my dream of being published. I can continue to fantasize what life would like if...

          However, thanks to making my plans public (to send out my manuscript by the end of August) and thanks to some gentle prodding (thank you, Donna ) my manuscript has been delivered and is probably in a pile with other hopeful pieces. In 3-5 months, I will hear, and will then go from there...

          Two days after I sent off my manuscript, I went to a book reading at the Boom Boom Room in St. Charles (right above The Lounge).  W.E. Mueller was reading from his book Peaches and Cream.  There was a 2nd author there as well:  the son of the man highlighted in the book Confessions of a Mob Hitman.


         Both readings were moving, in different ways.  One of the
   stories that Mueller read was "Uncle Albert."  It had an O. Henry
   twist at the end that really smacked the reader in the head in a
   good way.  I have purchased the book; it's a mixture of detective
   stories and humor and poignancy. I have not finished the book,
   but I will say that although detective stories are not my normal 
   fare, I enjoy Mueller's...

          Flynn's reading was engaging because it was apparent how
   emotional this journey has been for him.  His father died before
   the book could be published. It was easy to see how moved he was
   as he wrote the preface and did the research to validate his
   father's stories.  Both father and son had been incarcerated, yet
here was the son, perhaps learning from his own as well as his father's frailities, reading stories for a captive audience.  (I couldn't resist the bad pun!)

        We write for various reasons.  What do you most want to accomplish when you write?  Who is your audience?

Harriet Tubman's On Facebook!

        Pat Hensley's blog is a great resource for teachers and today, for writers as well.  Her 9/3/10 links you up with a site where students can create faux facebook pages for historical figures.

          With multi-genre pieces being so powerful, a facebook page is another option to add to the list.  Or, use it as a stand-alone project---they would look great printed up and displayed on a bulletin board.

         What next?  Abraham Lincoln's ipod playlist?

photo by laikolosse