Today I read a lot. I called in sick: it was chemo Friday and also the Friday of my first week back at school after my stroke two weeks ago. So I would've called in anyway but I had extra reason.
I slept 11 hours then finished Seamus Heaney's The Burial at Thebes, his take on Sophocles' Antigone which my sophomores loved last year--it has all the elements, love, incest, the gods--but it's also got the distinction of having the only movie version (from the 60's, in the original Greek) that multiple students suggested I never show again. Wow.
Anyway I finished The Burial at Thebes then read Scott Westerfeld's Uglies which a number of my students have been obsessed with--I wanted to read the copy I'd bought at a yard sale before I brought it in and put it in my classroom library, so I did that, put the other three on hold at the library, and read Jacqueline Woodson's Peace, Locomotion, the "companion book" to Locomotion. In this book, Locomotion (sometimes Lonnie) is in 6th grade, and when he tells his new teacher, Ms. Cooper, that he is a poet because Ms. Marcus, his teacher last year, said he was, Ms. Cooper says "Until you publish a book, you're not a poet, you're an aspiring poet, Lonnie." Thank god that stupid evil Ms. Cooper goes on maternity leave three months into the year and the excellent Alina takes over.
You should all read all of Jacqueline Woodson's books. Peace, Locomotion takes the form of Lonnie's letters to his little sister, Lili. Miss Edna (Lonnie's foster mom)'s oldest son Jenkins comes home from (a) war, messed up and without his leg, but Miss Edna tells him, "This wasn't the dream none of us had, but it's our lives now and we need to be living it, sweetie."
Rodney, her other son, asks Jenkins how his leg is doing and he says "I don't know, it ain't here anymore." When Miss Edna comes out of the kitchen to ask what all the laughing is about, Rodney tells her, "I don't know, Mama. You the one who said sometimes you gotta laugh to keep from crying." Jenkins adds, "And sometimes you just gotta laugh."
Lonnie tells Lili this in a letter and adds, "It's true, Lili. Sometimes you do have to laugh to keep from crying. And sometimes the world feels all right and good and kind of like it's becoming nice again around you. And you realize it, and realize how happy you are in it, and you just gotta laugh."
Thank you, Jacqueline Woodson.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Matt de la Peña
I'm excited to read Mexican White Boy with my students this year. Thanks to everybody who's been helping me buy a class set!
I read all of Matt de la Peña's books over the summer, and they made me so happy. Finally some good YA fiction about Latino boys. (If you know of other books, I want to hear about them!) And of course it's not just about Latino boys, but I'm happy to have a book I can bring to my students and say this is awesome for all these reasons and one of them is that the main character is Latino. Because it doesn't happen anywhere near enough.
From We Were Here, about Miguel and Rondell, who run away from the group home they're in and take off for the Mexican border as if that might really let them start over:
Also, Mong says, "It's not about what happens to people. It's how they figure out what it means." There's some smart stuff in this book. Earlier, Miguel says, "I looked at him and then leaned back and crossed my arms. I started calming down, which pissed me off even more. I hated that something some damn counselor could say would make me calm down when I didn't even feel like it."
I'd love to read We Were Here with my students, but we'll start with Mexican Whiteboy.
I read all of Matt de la Peña's books over the summer, and they made me so happy. Finally some good YA fiction about Latino boys. (If you know of other books, I want to hear about them!) And of course it's not just about Latino boys, but I'm happy to have a book I can bring to my students and say this is awesome for all these reasons and one of them is that the main character is Latino. Because it doesn't happen anywhere near enough.
From We Were Here, about Miguel and Rondell, who run away from the group home they're in and take off for the Mexican border as if that might really let them start over:
I picked up a rock and thought how weird it was that people call 'em aliens. Like they're from outer space and look like damn Martians. All green with big-ass Rondell heads. And not just aliens but illegal ones too. I wondered who made up that term. And how weird is it that they put cops all along the border so no Mexicans could sneak in? But on the other side it was straight crickets. Nobody was there making sure American people like me and Rondell didn't sneak into Mexico. Shit like that is weird if you really stop and think about it.Also awesome in this low-key incidental way: some of the characters from Ball Don't Lie are also in We Were Here. I like when that happens. He's got a whole world set up.
Also, Mong says, "It's not about what happens to people. It's how they figure out what it means." There's some smart stuff in this book. Earlier, Miguel says, "I looked at him and then leaned back and crossed my arms. I started calming down, which pissed me off even more. I hated that something some damn counselor could say would make me calm down when I didn't even feel like it."
I'd love to read We Were Here with my students, but we'll start with Mexican Whiteboy.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Mockingjay (A Review Without Spoilers)
I got my review copy of Mockingjay on Tuesday morning, since they didn't send out any advance copies. I took it on vacation and read it between hikes, finishing it Friday morning, three days after I got it. If I had been home, I would've finished it sooner.
I was partly slowed down because I read The Hunger Games and Catching Fire, the first and second books in this trilogy, back to back in March. (I blogged a very little bit about The Hunger Games here.) I remember that a major complaint about Catching Fire was that so much of the beginning of it was summary of The Hunger Games, and while that was frustrating, I think Mockingjay could have used a little more summary. I was grateful for The Hunger Games Wiki when I started Mockingjay; it helped fill me in on some of the details that had slid out of reach. There are so many characters in these books, and I didn't remember who Beetee or Plutarch was, or what happened to Cinna. In fact, as I recall, we don't quite learn what happens to Cinna, though it seems clear what probably happened--but then it's assumed in Mockingjay that we know.
Anyway. Although I don't think this book really stands on its own, it's a great ending to a fabulous trilogy. So read The Hunger Games if you haven't already, and I'll be surprised if you don't want to keep going and see the story through. I think these books are so realistic in their fantasticality: nothing happens that feels impossible. I do take issue with how Collins settles the question of whether Katniss will end up with Peeta or Gale. I love how it isn't clear throughout the book which way she'll go, how you can see her questions and feel how much she values each relationship. Also, Peeta has changed so much, and really, Gale has too. But when you get there, I think the end feels too easy. I don't want to say more, it would be too much of a spoiler, but this is the one thing that feels pat: the answer to Peeta or Gale? which is a complex and interesting question, until it's resolved. Not like I have a better idea for how it could end. I expected one of them to die, and I guess that would have been more irritating in many ways.
In her acknowledgments, Suzanne Collins thanks her late father, "who laid the groundwork for this series with his deep commitment to educating his children on war and peace." This series does closely and thoughtfully examine war and human motives for violence. It's interesting to see how different characters, raised in different ways and essentially in different cultures, though in the same country, have such variant views of values, inequity, the world.
At one point, Plutarch, one of the key leaders of the rebellion, observes, "Now we're in that sweet period where everyone agrees that our recent horrors should never be repeated. But collective thinking is usually short-lived. We're fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction." But he adds, "Who knows? Maybe this will be it... The time it sticks. Maybe we are witnessing the evolution of the human race. Think about that."
But this is a realistic revolution in the sense that many of the revolutionaries have their own agendas, beyond equality, beyond a better world. And they have their own yearning for power at the expense of anything else. We see the ways in which the personal intersects with the political, and each person brings their own worldview and their own experience into every decision made.
This is a thoughtful, captivating story, and I'm happy to have it in me. At one point, reading alone in my room, I called out, "Good! Good. That's what you were supposed to do, Katniss!" I hadn't been sure she would, but I was hoping so hard. And later in the story, I burst into tears, shocked with grief. Not all good books need to do that to me, but it does usually mean something when I start yelling at a character. I cry more often than I yell, but even that is a signifier: when I cry and I have to calm myself down by reminding myself, "Elissa, it's a book. She's not real. It's not happening." But I still cry, because it is happening.
I was partly slowed down because I read The Hunger Games and Catching Fire, the first and second books in this trilogy, back to back in March. (I blogged a very little bit about The Hunger Games here.) I remember that a major complaint about Catching Fire was that so much of the beginning of it was summary of The Hunger Games, and while that was frustrating, I think Mockingjay could have used a little more summary. I was grateful for The Hunger Games Wiki when I started Mockingjay; it helped fill me in on some of the details that had slid out of reach. There are so many characters in these books, and I didn't remember who Beetee or Plutarch was, or what happened to Cinna. In fact, as I recall, we don't quite learn what happens to Cinna, though it seems clear what probably happened--but then it's assumed in Mockingjay that we know.
Anyway. Although I don't think this book really stands on its own, it's a great ending to a fabulous trilogy. So read The Hunger Games if you haven't already, and I'll be surprised if you don't want to keep going and see the story through. I think these books are so realistic in their fantasticality: nothing happens that feels impossible. I do take issue with how Collins settles the question of whether Katniss will end up with Peeta or Gale. I love how it isn't clear throughout the book which way she'll go, how you can see her questions and feel how much she values each relationship. Also, Peeta has changed so much, and really, Gale has too. But when you get there, I think the end feels too easy. I don't want to say more, it would be too much of a spoiler, but this is the one thing that feels pat: the answer to Peeta or Gale? which is a complex and interesting question, until it's resolved. Not like I have a better idea for how it could end. I expected one of them to die, and I guess that would have been more irritating in many ways.
In her acknowledgments, Suzanne Collins thanks her late father, "who laid the groundwork for this series with his deep commitment to educating his children on war and peace." This series does closely and thoughtfully examine war and human motives for violence. It's interesting to see how different characters, raised in different ways and essentially in different cultures, though in the same country, have such variant views of values, inequity, the world.
At one point, Plutarch, one of the key leaders of the rebellion, observes, "Now we're in that sweet period where everyone agrees that our recent horrors should never be repeated. But collective thinking is usually short-lived. We're fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction." But he adds, "Who knows? Maybe this will be it... The time it sticks. Maybe we are witnessing the evolution of the human race. Think about that."
But this is a realistic revolution in the sense that many of the revolutionaries have their own agendas, beyond equality, beyond a better world. And they have their own yearning for power at the expense of anything else. We see the ways in which the personal intersects with the political, and each person brings their own worldview and their own experience into every decision made.
This is a thoughtful, captivating story, and I'm happy to have it in me. At one point, reading alone in my room, I called out, "Good! Good. That's what you were supposed to do, Katniss!" I hadn't been sure she would, but I was hoping so hard. And later in the story, I burst into tears, shocked with grief. Not all good books need to do that to me, but it does usually mean something when I start yelling at a character. I cry more often than I yell, but even that is a signifier: when I cry and I have to calm myself down by reminding myself, "Elissa, it's a book. She's not real. It's not happening." But I still cry, because it is happening.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Lamb
I just finished a fabulous book, Lamb by Christopher Moore. It was so good that I had to restrain myself from putting all his other books on hold at the library (school is about to start and I already have thirty books checked out--teachers can get a special library card that allows them to renew stuff over and over and over and over and over if there's no hold on the book).
I seem to be one of the few people who hadn't heard of Lamb until recently. Rachel loaned it to me saying, "You have to read this." Emily was talking about it and saying how great it was. So two good recommendations by smart thoughtful people with complementary senses of humor--I went for it, as unappealing as it seemed.
Lamb is the story of Christ's life, told from the point of view of his childhood friend Levi, known as Biff. Biff is brought back to life in modern times, taken to a hotel room by an angel, and told to write the story of Christ as he knew it. The irritating angel guards him closely, not letting him leave the room, watching soap operas on TV while Biff writes.
Biff finds a Bible in a drawer (thanks, Gideons!) and sneaks it into the bathroom, where he reads the gospels and is irritated--by their inaccuracy, by the huge gap of time left out,* and by the omission of his own self and his importance to the story. (There is a Levi in the New Testament, a follower of Christ, but he is a very minor character.)
In the course of the story, during those missing years, Levi a.k.a. Biff and Joshua ("By the way, his name was Joshua. Jesus is the Greek translation of the Hebrew Yeshua, which is Joshua. Christ is not a last name. It's the Greek for messiah, a Hebrew word meaning anointed.") go looking for the three wise men. They find the first one in Afghanistan just outside Kabul, the second in China, and the third in India. They spend years with each man, studying Buddhism, kung fu, and yoga, among other things. Biff also learns about sex, from various concubines and prostitutes and the Kama Sutra, knowledge he shares with Joshua, who is celibate at his fahter's request. After many years away from home, traveling, they bring their Divine Spark thing back to Jerusalem and turn it into the Holy Ghost. (I think I understand the Holy Ghost a lot better now, actually. Thanks, Christopher Moore.) Then Jesus starts preaching, gathering followers, and doing the stuff we all know about from the bible.
There were many things I loved about this book: how much research Moore clearly did, for one thing. But I also loved the references, most of which I'm sure I missed. But they celebrate Jesus' birthday "with the traditional Chinese food," and even Hans Christian Andersen makes a guest appearance, when a demon they meet outside Kabul has "dinner-plate-sized cat's eyes," just like one of those dogs in "The Magic Tinder Box." Appropriate in what could be viewed as one of the greatest and most enduring fairytales our world has seen.
I love that Joshua has a sense of humor, even laughing so hard at one point that he sprays tea out his nose. In his afterword, Moore notes, "It's more than a small anachronism that I portray Joshua having and making fun, yet somehow, I like to think that while he carried out his sacred mission, Jesus of Nazareth might have enjoyed a sense of irony and the company of a wisecracking buddy. This story is not and never was meant to challenge anyone's faith; however, if one's faith can be shaken by stories in a humorous novel, one may have a bit more praying to do." His "Author's Blessing" at the beginning also reinforces this so nicely:
And Moore does right by Mary Magdalene. As he notes in the afterword, it doesn't say anywhere in the Bible that she was a prostitute: "No whore references, period." She's an important, thoughtful, well-drawn character in the book, smart and interesting and convincing.
There are too many apostles to keep straight, which is the same problem I'm having in my novel about the fourteen daughters of Ed. But that's not Moore's fault, and since the apostles don't even start to show up until the last fourth of this novel, it's not the biggest problem. I can see how any more focus on them would derail things.
So yeah. I liked this book so much. Do unto others..., and all that.
*As Moore notes in his afterword, "Of the time from Jesus' birth to when he began his ministry in his thirties, the Bible gives us only one scene," which is Luke 2:46-7, Jesus at the age of twelve "in the temple, sitting in the midst of the doctors, both hearing them, and asking them questions. And all that heard him were astonished at his understanding and answers."
I seem to be one of the few people who hadn't heard of Lamb until recently. Rachel loaned it to me saying, "You have to read this." Emily was talking about it and saying how great it was. So two good recommendations by smart thoughtful people with complementary senses of humor--I went for it, as unappealing as it seemed.
Lamb is the story of Christ's life, told from the point of view of his childhood friend Levi, known as Biff. Biff is brought back to life in modern times, taken to a hotel room by an angel, and told to write the story of Christ as he knew it. The irritating angel guards him closely, not letting him leave the room, watching soap operas on TV while Biff writes.
Biff finds a Bible in a drawer (thanks, Gideons!) and sneaks it into the bathroom, where he reads the gospels and is irritated--by their inaccuracy, by the huge gap of time left out,* and by the omission of his own self and his importance to the story. (There is a Levi in the New Testament, a follower of Christ, but he is a very minor character.)
In the course of the story, during those missing years, Levi a.k.a. Biff and Joshua ("By the way, his name was Joshua. Jesus is the Greek translation of the Hebrew Yeshua, which is Joshua. Christ is not a last name. It's the Greek for messiah, a Hebrew word meaning anointed.") go looking for the three wise men. They find the first one in Afghanistan just outside Kabul, the second in China, and the third in India. They spend years with each man, studying Buddhism, kung fu, and yoga, among other things. Biff also learns about sex, from various concubines and prostitutes and the Kama Sutra, knowledge he shares with Joshua, who is celibate at his fahter's request. After many years away from home, traveling, they bring their Divine Spark thing back to Jerusalem and turn it into the Holy Ghost. (I think I understand the Holy Ghost a lot better now, actually. Thanks, Christopher Moore.) Then Jesus starts preaching, gathering followers, and doing the stuff we all know about from the bible.
There were many things I loved about this book: how much research Moore clearly did, for one thing. But I also loved the references, most of which I'm sure I missed. But they celebrate Jesus' birthday "with the traditional Chinese food," and even Hans Christian Andersen makes a guest appearance, when a demon they meet outside Kabul has "dinner-plate-sized cat's eyes," just like one of those dogs in "The Magic Tinder Box." Appropriate in what could be viewed as one of the greatest and most enduring fairytales our world has seen.
I love that Joshua has a sense of humor, even laughing so hard at one point that he sprays tea out his nose. In his afterword, Moore notes, "It's more than a small anachronism that I portray Joshua having and making fun, yet somehow, I like to think that while he carried out his sacred mission, Jesus of Nazareth might have enjoyed a sense of irony and the company of a wisecracking buddy. This story is not and never was meant to challenge anyone's faith; however, if one's faith can be shaken by stories in a humorous novel, one may have a bit more praying to do." His "Author's Blessing" at the beginning also reinforces this so nicely:
If you have come to these pages for laughter, may you find it.I think this really illustrates what a thoughtful book Lamb manages to be. While managing to be funny.
If you are here to be offended, may your ire rise and your blood boil.
If you seek an adventure, may this song sing you away to blissful escape.
If you need to test or confirm your beliefs, may you reach comfortable conclusions.
All books reveal perfection, by what they are or what they are not.
May you find that which you seek, in these pages or outside them.
May you find perfection, and know it by name.
And Moore does right by Mary Magdalene. As he notes in the afterword, it doesn't say anywhere in the Bible that she was a prostitute: "No whore references, period." She's an important, thoughtful, well-drawn character in the book, smart and interesting and convincing.
There are too many apostles to keep straight, which is the same problem I'm having in my novel about the fourteen daughters of Ed. But that's not Moore's fault, and since the apostles don't even start to show up until the last fourth of this novel, it's not the biggest problem. I can see how any more focus on them would derail things.
So yeah. I liked this book so much. Do unto others..., and all that.
*As Moore notes in his afterword, "Of the time from Jesus' birth to when he began his ministry in his thirties, the Bible gives us only one scene," which is Luke 2:46-7, Jesus at the age of twelve "in the temple, sitting in the midst of the doctors, both hearing them, and asking them questions. And all that heard him were astonished at his understanding and answers."
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
My hundred most influential writers (for now): the final list
1.
2. Russell and Lillian Hoban
3. Maurice Sendak
4. Tomie diPaola
5. Laura Ingalls Wilder
6. Horatio Alger, Jr.
7. Shel Silverstein
8. Hans Christian Anderson
9. The Brothers Grimm
10. Bible authors and editors (including King James)
11. Virginia Hamilton
12. The d’Aulaires
13. Roald Dahl
14. Natalie Babbitt
15. Louis Sachar
16. Frances Hodgson Burnett
17. Robert McCloskey
18. E.B. White
19. Louise Fitzhugh
20. Betty McDonald
21. Astrid Lindgren
22. Beverly Cleary
23. Carol Ryrie Brink
24. Booth Tarkington
25. Lewis Carroll
26. C.S. Lewis
27. Lynda Barry
28. Louisa May Alcott
29. Katherine Paterson
30. Scott O’Dell
31. Shakespeare
32. Madeline L’Engle
33. Lois Lowry
34. Paula Danziger
35. Judy Blume
36. Lois Duncan
37. Antoine de Saint Exupery
39. Mark Twain
40. The “anonymous” author of Go Ask Alice
41. Dylan Thomas
42. George Orwell
43. Ray Bradbury
44. Charles Dickens
45. Charles Baxter
46. Tracy Kidder
47. James Baldwin
48. Douglas Adams
49. J.D. Salinger
50. John Steinbeck
51. F. Scott Fitzgerald
55. Tom Stoppard
56. Samuel Beckett
57. Sophocles
58. Gabriel García Márquez
59. Alice Walker
60. Tom Robbins
61. Erica Jong
62. Franz Kafka
63. Margaret Atwood
64. Grace Paley
65. Jamaica Kincaid
66. August Wilson
67. Kurt Vonnegut
68. Joseph Heller
69. Tony Kushner
70. Sherman Alexie
71. Cindy Crabb
72. Toni Morrison
74. Maxine Hong Kingston
75. bell hooks
76. Louise Erdrich
77. Rebecca Brown
78. Junot Diaz
79. E. Annie Proulx
80. Raymond Carver
81. Stuart Dybek
82. Ron Hansen
83. Angela Davis
84. Audre Lorde
85. Alice Munro
86. Walter Dean Myers
87. Thomas Kuhn
88. George Saunders
89. Lucille Clifton
90. Octavia Butler
91. Andrea Barrett
92. Charles Simic
93. Jacqueline Woodson
94. Yusef Komunyakaa
95. Chris Crutcher
96. Lisa Delpit
98. Joan Didion
99. Anne Carson
100. Jonathan SwiftI am finishing up issue #1 of a real-life paper zine about this list, entitled The Hundred Most Influential Writers in My Life to Date, As Best I Can Remember and Mostly Not Including Zines. Blogs are great, they do their job, but I think a paper zine is the ideal format for this project. If you'd like a copy, please email me for more info.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Writing Dialogues: Jolene!
I made a CD to use with my summer students, thinking we'd write from it, imagine different songs as background music in different scenes--they turned out to be really into dancing (except the second graders, but that's another story) so we ended up dancing a lot, and the three hits of summer 2010 in my classroom turned out to be "Supersonic," by J.J. Fad; "The Love You Save," by the Jackson 5; and "Jolene," by Dolly Parton. All three of these were, "Can we hear that song again?" hits.
My students were having conversations about "Jolene" as they were leaving class, as in "That's messed up, Jolene needs to get her own man," so this seemed like a good opportunity for an exercise driven by student interest.
So we wrote plays, and I ended up passing out the lyrics to "Jolene" so we could talk about them, and write the play of "Jolene"--what happens next? Does Jolene leave the singer's man alone, since he's the only man for her and Jolene can have any man she wants? We discussed who the characters were in this play, gave names to everybody who isn't Jolene, brainstormed some potential settings, and got to work.
Jolene #1, by the third grade class
Jolene goes to Maba's house and rings the doorbell. Maba opens the door.
Jolene: I really want your man. Can I please get him?
Maba: N-O. No.
Jolene: Yes I can.
Maba: Come in.
Jolene: Can I have a drink of water please?
(Maba brings her water.)
Jolene: Thank you for the water. And where's Jack?
Maba: Jolene, Jolene, please don't take my man just because you can.
Jolene: Let's split him.
Maba: Split him in half? How do we split him?
Jolene: You can be his wife, and I'll be his girlfriend.
(Maba gives Jolene a wedgie. Jolene jumps out the window.)
Maba: Sorry?
THE END
Jolene #2, by the fourth graders
Michaela sees Jolene at the mall.
Michaela: Jolene!
Jolene: (looks back) It must be my imagination.
Michaela: It's not your imagination, it's me. You can't take my man, because he's the only one I love. Let's have a deal. Let's let John pick who he's gonna be with.
Jolene: It's a deal.
(John comes over.)
John: I don't know who I want to be with.
Michaela and Jolene: PICK ME! No, pick me! Pick me!
John: Stop saying pick me! I have an idea. You could both have a race. The winner gets the man.
Jolene and Michaela: (They shake hands.) Deal!
The fourth graders had to go write their own endings in their journals.
Marente's end: They ran to the tall building and ran back and Michaela won.
Kristine's went like this: Michaela and Jolene become friends, they both dump John.
Jolene: You can have the man.
Michaela: No, why don't you have the man.
Daquani got off to a slow start, but I left him alone after I asked him, "What does Jolene say when Michaela says that?" and he said "I don't know. I gotta see." I totally know how that is.
My students were having conversations about "Jolene" as they were leaving class, as in "That's messed up, Jolene needs to get her own man," so this seemed like a good opportunity for an exercise driven by student interest.
So we wrote plays, and I ended up passing out the lyrics to "Jolene" so we could talk about them, and write the play of "Jolene"--what happens next? Does Jolene leave the singer's man alone, since he's the only man for her and Jolene can have any man she wants? We discussed who the characters were in this play, gave names to everybody who isn't Jolene, brainstormed some potential settings, and got to work.
Jolene #1, by the third grade class
Jolene goes to Maba's house and rings the doorbell. Maba opens the door.
Jolene: I really want your man. Can I please get him?
Maba: N-O. No.
Jolene: Yes I can.
Maba: Come in.
Jolene: Can I have a drink of water please?
(Maba brings her water.)
Jolene: Thank you for the water. And where's Jack?
Maba: Jolene, Jolene, please don't take my man just because you can.
Jolene: Let's split him.
Maba: Split him in half? How do we split him?
Jolene: You can be his wife, and I'll be his girlfriend.
(Maba gives Jolene a wedgie. Jolene jumps out the window.)
Maba: Sorry?
THE END
Jolene #2, by the fourth graders
Michaela sees Jolene at the mall.
Michaela: Jolene!
Jolene: (looks back) It must be my imagination.
Michaela: It's not your imagination, it's me. You can't take my man, because he's the only one I love. Let's have a deal. Let's let John pick who he's gonna be with.
Jolene: It's a deal.
(John comes over.)
John: I don't know who I want to be with.
Michaela and Jolene: PICK ME! No, pick me! Pick me!
John: Stop saying pick me! I have an idea. You could both have a race. The winner gets the man.
Jolene and Michaela: (They shake hands.) Deal!
The fourth graders had to go write their own endings in their journals.
Marente's end: They ran to the tall building and ran back and Michaela won.
Kristine's went like this: Michaela and Jolene become friends, they both dump John.
Jolene: You can have the man.
Michaela: No, why don't you have the man.
Daquani got off to a slow start, but I left him alone after I asked him, "What does Jolene say when Michaela says that?" and he said "I don't know. I gotta see." I totally know how that is.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Lifetime goals
I used to want to be Alice Munro
, who didn't publish her first collection of stories until she was 37 (which used to seem very old, but doesn't seem so old anymore at all). But then she started whipping them out, these complex and incredible stories masquerading as boring rural historical type things. She's 79 now, and still going strong, writing more and more amazing stories. I'd still love to be her. And that can still be a goal. A lifetime of writing and living and paying close attention to things others don't notice. I'll have a lifetime of this, even if it isn't eighty years' worth--which is not to say that it won't be. Going strong.
But I'd settle for being Toni Cade Bambara
, who was 56 when she died. That would give me another twenty-two years. I could do a lot in twenty-two years. I'd be so happy to settle for that, if that was what I was given.
"Settle for." Don't take that the wrong way, Ms. Bambara. I am not implying disrespect, not in the least. Your stories full of joy and love and so much power... note the sarcasm in "settle for." I'm sure you would. You knew a few things about sarcasm. And know that while I'm pretty sure my students wouldn't appreciate Munro's stories, they get "Raymond's Run", and I love reading it with them. They connect with it, get pissed about it, and they love it.
But anyway. You take what you can get, and you do the most you can. I am writing, and teaching, and living my life.
, who didn't publish her first collection of stories until she was 37 (which used to seem very old, but doesn't seem so old anymore at all). But then she started whipping them out, these complex and incredible stories masquerading as boring rural historical type things. She's 79 now, and still going strong, writing more and more amazing stories. I'd still love to be her. And that can still be a goal. A lifetime of writing and living and paying close attention to things others don't notice. I'll have a lifetime of this, even if it isn't eighty years' worth--which is not to say that it won't be. Going strong.But I'd settle for being Toni Cade Bambara
, who was 56 when she died. That would give me another twenty-two years. I could do a lot in twenty-two years. I'd be so happy to settle for that, if that was what I was given."Settle for." Don't take that the wrong way, Ms. Bambara. I am not implying disrespect, not in the least. Your stories full of joy and love and so much power... note the sarcasm in "settle for." I'm sure you would. You knew a few things about sarcasm. And know that while I'm pretty sure my students wouldn't appreciate Munro's stories, they get "Raymond's Run", and I love reading it with them. They connect with it, get pissed about it, and they love it.
But anyway. You take what you can get, and you do the most you can. I am writing, and teaching, and living my life.
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