What happens when we live in fear?

I've had a few discussions in the last couple weeks with my eighth graders about Muslims. The first one came about because someone brought up the proposed mosque near Ground Zero. There was a variety of opinions, all over the spectrum. The scary ones were the ones who said we should let them build the mosque and then blow it up, or we should "round up" all of the Muslims and "send them back where they came from." I tried my best to counter those views, and I was heartened when other students seconded my opinion, but I knew I didn't (really) change any of their minds.

The topic came up again on Friday because we were getting ready to read a piece of a memoir written by a woman who was second-generation Japanese and who was sent with her family to one the internment camps we had in our country during World War II. I spent quite a bit of time describing those camps to the kids, many of whom hadn't known they'd ever existed. I drew the lines connecting our internment camps and Hitler's concentration camps, focusing on the fact that the people we put into them were rounded up solely because of their ethnicity.

For the most part, the kids were taken aback to learn about these camps. For the most part, they thought it was horrible that Japanese Americans were robbed of their civil liberties simply because they were Japanese. I took advantage of those feelings to bring up the conversation we'd had before about the Muslims, to remind them about those who'd said we should do to the Muslims what we'd done to the Japanese, what Hitler had done to the Jews. I was hoping I'd see light bulbs go on and that they'd realize this wasn't a road our country should go down again - that we should never cast a net wide enough to catch an entire group of people just because they share a nationality or a religious conviction.

The ones who had earlier said we should round up the Muslims and send them back, that we should, in essence, do away with them all, had not changed their minds one bit. And now, I think I know (at least partially) why. They're scared.

I tried to counter their arguments. I tried to explain what a scary place this country would be if we started condemning groups as they want to condemn all Muslims. Then, one student said, "I think everyone's still so sensitive about 9/11, Mrs. Honeycutt." And I think she's right.

I think we all remember how unbelievably catastrophic that day was, and all of the days that came after, as people tried to make sense of it, tried to recover from it, tried to figure out how to go on. We mourned deeply. And now, nine years later, we've moved on in a lot of ways. But we're still scared.

We're scared it could happen again. We're scared we're going to continue to lose troops overseas. We scared there's no way to really, truly protect ourselves. And what happens when we get scared? We look for the monster under the bed. If we can find the monster, we can chase it out of the house, we can scare it away, we can kill it. We can be safe again.

I think that's where this hatred, this mistrust of all Muslims is coming from in my kids. They need a monster to point at, to chase from the house. And I'm betting that their parents, or other adults they admire and respect, are pointing first. And that scares me.

When we start making characterizations and decisions based on fear, we make mistakes. Creating scapegoats solves nothing, accomplishes nothing. I thought we learned that lesson when Hitler built his concentration camps. But I have students who want to bomb mosques, and I don't know how to change their minds.

I'd rather keep walking this road

How many of you, if given the chance, would go back and relive your late teens or even your 20s? How many of you would like to remain that age forever? My eighth graders think they would.

The journal prompt I gave them today was this: Imagine you’ve found the fountain of youth. Once you drink from it, you will remain the age you are at that point in time forever. You’ll be immortal (but not a vampire, for all the Twilight fans out there). At what age would you drink from it and why? (I also told them that they could choose not to drink from it.)

Of the 70 kids I have, I think the number who chose not to drink from it hovered somewhere between ten and fifteen. Some of them explained their choice by saying it went against their faith. Others said they thought they would simply get bored if they stayed the same age forever.

Many, many, many of them said they would want to be about 21 or 22. Can you guess why? Their explanations went something like this: “If I’m 21, then I’m old enough to move away from my parents and to buy certain things.” (It was funny – alcohol was on all of their minds, but most came up with a euphemism for it.) These kids basically saw it as an eternal party and were very excited about that prospect.

The ones who didn’t choose 21 or 22 invariably chose their mid- to late-20s. They included the same reasons as the younger age group, but added that they would be past the party-all-the-time stage (although they still could if they wanted to, they said!) and that they would be ready to have a family. At that point, I asked if they would have their family drink from the fountain. They all said yes, although there were some frowns when I asked at what age they would have their children drink from it.

I told them that I’d like to see them all again when they’re actually in their mid-20s to see if their perspectives had changed. Would they still want to drink from the fountain at that age or would they want to wait until they were in their 30s? 40s? Would any of them want to go back to their teens?

It wasn’t until my last class of the day that one of my students – JD – asked me when I would want to drink from the fountain. I said that I wouldn’t. His quick response? “Why? Ya too old now?” I laughed (as did the rest of the kids).

I told him, no, it wasn’t that I thought I was too old. I said it was because of my faith and because as much as I enjoyed my teens, my 20s, and my 30s, I have no desire to live them again. I said that everything that’s happened to me in my life has helped shape who I am today. I’m happy with who I am, and I wouldn’t want to risk the person I am today by missing out on some of my life experiences. I’m still looking forward to many things in my life and have no desire to freeze myself at this or any age.

It’s natural, I think, for the kids to have the kinds of thoughts they did today. (How many of us didn't ache for our 20s when we were still in high school?)

It is my hope, though, that they live the kind of lives that will change their minds by the time they’re my age. And I hope that’s the kind of life you’re living too. After all, it's not the destination, is it? I think it's the journey.

8th graders discuss genetic engineering: 3-parent embryos, anyone?

Yesterday, I gave my students a journal prompt from a news article I came across explaining that scientists in the UK have figured out how to “fix” embryos with genetic defects. After fertilizing the mother’s egg with her partner’s sperm in the lab, creating an embryo, the nucleus of this (suspected genetically defective) embryo is removed and transferred to the “donor” embryo that has had its nucleus removed. It is believed that this transfer will leave the faulty, defective DNA behind and allow the embryo to grow (if actually implanted in the mother) into a healthy child – a child with three parents (one man, two women). Because of the ethical complications of this process, scientists have not actually implanted human embryos, but they believe they will be able to within the next three years. They’ve already done it with monkeys and are pleased with the results.

I had my students write whatever their thoughts, feelings, or questions were about this topic, and I was pleasantly surprised at the depth of their thoughts. We had substantial discussions (each lasting at least twenty minutes – the longest lasting forty) and the kids were able to share their opinions (some of them WIDELY different from others) without telling each other they were wrong. Would you like to hear some of what they said?

Several of them believed this process was akin to abortion. They felt that removing the nucleus from the first embryo destroyed that particular child. Many said that God creates us and intends for us to be who He wants us to be and that man should not interfere with that at all. Regardless of whatever genetic defect the child might be born with, they didn’t feel science should be part of the process.

I had students who straddled the fence. The process seemed to make them uncomfortable – they didn’t seem to like the idea of science messing around with the construction of a human being – but they did admit to being in favor of it if it would fix a lethal defect. If the child would be born dead or would die soon after birth, they said they would be in favor of the process.

On the other side of the fence were the students who believed that eliminating genetic defects would be good for everyone. They said the child would have a more meaningful life, and they said some parents just couldn’t handle raising and caring for children who are born with genetic defects. They mentioned too the lessened financial burden parents (and society) would carry if these children were born healthy and without the need for advanced medical care and treatments.

There were a couple students who stunned me with their comments. One young man said that he was entirely in favor of the process and took it a step further. He said he thinks women should have to register with the government when they want to become pregnant and should be tested for the possibility of giving birth to genetically defective children. If results indicate they could have genetically defective children, then they should have to go through this process to avoid it.

I kept my own thoughts and comments to myself all day, with one exception. (I didn’t want to influence what they were saying, and I didn’t want anyone to feel inhibited by anything I might say.) The one exception was to this particular student’s comments about government intervention. I asked him where this government intervention would stop. Maybe they would begin by preventing the birth of children with lethal defects, but it wouldn’t be long before they would decide that another “defect” is undesirable, and so is this one and that one. I asked him how long he thought it would be before the government began deciding brown hair and dark eyes were undesirable, as Hitler did. He’s a smart kid – really smart – and it truly scared me that these were reasonable thoughts in his mind. Where are our kids getting these ideas?

The other comment that surprised me was a very logical question coming from a boy that on most days I would gleefully strangle because he can’t stay in his seat and he can’t be quiet. He asked, “Couldn’t the woman who donated the egg sue for custody or visitation?” Pretty insightful, huh?

This post has already gotten very long, and I haven’t mentioned everything we talked about. I think you can see, though, from the samples I’ve shared, that it was a thought-provoking discussion.

Our children do think. They have opinions and lots of questions. I hope they also have people in their lives who will listen to them and talk with them so that we can raise a generation that doesn’t want to dictate – even fears to dictate – what constitutes a perfect child. I don’t want a roomful of students that look and sound alike. I want variety. God save us from Sameness. (The Giver, anyone?)

Teacher stories

Hi everyone! For lots of reasons, I'm hoping you will all be willing to tell me who your favorite teacher was (or teachers were) and why? What did they do that makes them stay in your memories? It would also be awesome if these were teachers that you learned from too!! Anyway, if you'll share your stories, I'd be very grateful!! THANKS!!

Starting school after Labor Day?

There are a lot of changes coming to education in Indiana - actually to almost every state in the country - but I live and teach here, my daughter goes to school here, so it's Indiana I'm concerned about.

On Tuesday this week, the state senate passed HB 1367 with some amendments of their own. It is my understanding that the biggest portion of HB 1367 is dedicated to giving school corporations more discretion as to how to spend their money, i.e. money can be moved from fund to fund. I see this as a good thing. If a corporation has enough money to build a new gym but not enough to keep its lights on or pay its teachers, it ought to be able to transfer money from the building fund to the operating costs fund. Makes sense, right?

One of the amendments the senate added to HB 1367 mandates that children cannot be passed on to fourth grade if they can't read at a third grade level. This seems to me like a no-brainer, but evidently there is evidence this is happening. Personally, I think we need to work on remediation much sooner. It's not as though a child hits third grade and suddenly can't read. However, I do know that I've had way too many children in middle school (and yes, high school) who don't read as well as they should, so the problem is out there. If your child is lagging behind, if you're worried about your child's progress but you don't believe your child's teacher is worried about it, speak up. Ask questions. Be an advocate for your child. I think we need these things - remediation and more parent involvement - more than we need a law like this, but that's just me.

Another amendment the senate tacked on to HB 1367 is to begin the school year AFTER Labor Day. The state (I'm quite sure) is still going to require 180 days in the school year, so the year will extend well into June if it doesn't start until September. I have one major issue with this, but in talking to my students about it in depth yesterday, they brought up many more.

My issue has to do with ISTEP. Currently, the ISTEP is given in two sections. The first section is being given next week - the first week of March - when we still have three months of school left. The second section is given the end of April or first of May, when most schools still have at least a month left. As (hopefully) any parent or teacher knows, these tests are incredibly important for all involved. A student's success on the test influences his assignment to future classes and grade levels. ISTEP scores are going to very soon begin influencing teacher evaluations and job retention. Students' cumulative scores influence the corporation's evaluation by the state and affect how much or how little state intervention the corporation receives.

When these tests are given at a point in the school year when there are still months of instruction left, it is unavoidable that there will be some standards left unaddressed. There simply isn't enough time before the tests to get to everything - to teach it well and ensure student understanding. English - my area - is probably the easiest to try and cover all of the core standards before testing because so many of them are used throughout the year. However, we're on the trimester system, so the students I have now, I have only had for a week. They have only had one-half of eighth grade English so far. So have I taught all of eighth grade standards to my satisfaction to those students yet? I certainly haven't. Give me another three months and it will be a different conversation. Even if I had had them all year, I would still be concerned about a few of the standards. There just isn't enough time.

Now, think about science (which is tested in fourth and sixth grade), social studies (which is tested in fifth and seventh grade), and math (which is tested in all grades 3-8). Math and science build throughout the year, right? What do you suppose those kids have yet to be exposed to when they still have months to go in the year? Regarding social studies, students are taught Indiana history in fourth grade. How far will they have gotten by March?

The ISTEP tests what students should know at the end of each year, but they are given before we reach the actual end of the year. Now, we push the end of the school year into June, so, if we don't move the testing dates, what do you suppose will happen to the ISTEP scores? That's my main concern. It took a Herculean effort to move that test from the fall to spring a year ago. How long do you think it will take to move it again?

The students' concerns were no less valid, even if they weren't quite as academically centered. The athletes are concerned about playing seasons. Will fall sports seasons be shortened? Will they be playing football in the snow, or in 30-degree temperatures? Many young athletes today play in summer leagues whose seasons kick into high gear in May and June. Those who plaly in these leagues are concerned about the effect this new school year will have on their ability to participate in those leagues.

Another concern was for 4-H members. Most 4-H fairs take place in July, which means members are incredibly busy during June completing projects for the fair. If school lasts into the second or third week of June, they fear they won't have the necessary time to complete their proejcts.

This proposed change to the school year is far-reaching in its ramifications. As usual, I'm worried that the people considering the change are people who are clueless when it comes to actually working in education or are people who are influenced by strong lobbyists.

The whole point of this post is to let you know that it isn't a done deal. The bill passed the senate by a vote of 31-19, so it has strong support in the senate. However, it was sent back to the house for reconsideration because of the amendments the senate added. If you have an opinion about the bill, get a hold of your local legislators. Tell them how you feel.

I'm going to.

Courage

Courage looks different to everyone. It can even look different to you on one day that it does another day. Let me tell you what it looked like to me today.

Today was the last day of our trimester. Yesterday, one of my classes revised essays they wrote last week, so I took them home and graded them last night. When I returned them to the kids today, I also delivered the news that they were going to have to stand up in front of the class and read them. I heard the expected moans and groans, as well as the, "Do we have to?" questions. Yes, they had to.

There are several English standards that require the students to speak or present in front of their classmates. Luckily, our school also has a communications class that covers many of these standards, but I like to try and incorporate a little of it in English. It's hard for most kids to get up in front of their peers and do this, I know, but I chose today's essay because it wasn't a personal one. It was about a book they had all read, so the topic wouldn't be embarrassing for them to talk about in front of others, and they would gain some (a little) public speaking experience.

I called the kids up alphabetically and everyone participated good-naturedly. The ones who were sitting and listening actually sat and listened, being respectful and considerate in ways they often aren't when it's me up there. I was proud of them.

Then I came to a boy I'll just call "T." This boy is an odd mixture of personalities. He has a good sense of humor and will once in a while participate in discussions and read-alouds. He often has stories to share about his life, but he doesn't always do his homework. He's usually respectful. Today, though, when I called his name to read his essay, he said, "No. I'm not doing it."

I don't like to be told no.

I started to tell him he had to, that it would be insubordination if he refused, and then he started to sob. Not weep. Not tear up. He sobbed. Head down on his desk, he bawled in my classroom. My jaw hit the ground.

Another boy caught my eye and said, "This happens when he has to speak in front of the class."

I looked at T for a second or two, listening to him cry, and I said, "T, I want you to calm down and take a few breaths. I'm not going to make you do this, but I want you to think about something. Everyone in here is doing this and living through it. Everyone is being kind to each other. At some point, you're going to have to do this for school and if you don't, it will really hurt your grade. I want you to try and do it here, where no one will laugh and you can see that you can do it."

I didn't know if my words had any effect on him because his crying continued, but I hoped they had. I called the next name and three or four students took their turns. Time was running out on the class, and I noticed that T had stopped crying and was sitting up straight in his chair. He had his essay in his hand.

Before I called the next name on my list, I said, "T, are you thinking you want to try it?"

He said, "Yeah, I'm just gonna do it." The entire class clapped as he went to the front of the room.

T stood at the front of the room, read the first few words on his paper, and started crying again. Hard. He'd read a couple words, sob a little bit, wipe away his tears with his arms, and read a couple more, then cry, dab his tears, read a few more, and so on.

I told him very, very early in his attempt that he didn't have to do it. But I guess something inside him said he had to. Because he finished that essay. He sobbed all the way through it, but he finished it.

I had tears in my eyes as I watched him. I have tears in my eyes now as I type this. Several of my other students turned at various times to look at me as T struggled in front of them, their eyes as wide as mine felt, but I had no answers.

I had given him an out. He refused to take it.

When he finished, we all clapped vigorously for him. I was standing, and I'd wanted to hug him, but that never felt quite right in that moment, so I just stood where I was and clapped really hard and really long.

When the clapping died down, I said, "T, that's the bravest thing I've ever seen a student do."

I'll never forget it.

We aren't all dumbing it down

I'm aggravated.

I turned Headline News on this afternoon as I often do and Chuck Roberts was soliciting opinions on a recent USA Today editorial, Our view on education: To boost graduation rates, states water down standards. My aggravation didn't sprout after I read the editorial; it came after I read comments people posted, both to the original editorial and on Chuck Roberts's Facebook page.

I will not argue the fact that some school districts, even some whole school systems in certain states, are struggling to maintain their academic standards. But even in those states whose numbers - graduation rates, test scores, etc. - are less than exemplary, I am certain there are school districts here and there that are doing it right and doing it well.

I have worked in five different school districts in Indiana. In every single one of them, I worked with teachers who care and who go above and beyond their contractual duties to help - often PUSH - their students to succeed. I have had the privilege of working for principals and superintendents who are constantly looking for and procuring the best for their students - the best teachers, the best methods, the best equipment and materials, the best facilities - that their funding allows.

But all of this - all of us - are tangled up in so much red tape that the general public (at least those who were posting on Facebook) doesn't take into consideration when they rant about greedy teachers, or school communities that don't care or that care only about numbers and statistics.

No Child Left Behind began the establishment of national standards for education. I believe the impetus behind this act was to help bring the US up to the academic levels of some other nations. That national act spawned (here in Indiana) Public Law 221 (and similar state laws across the country). These standards (which are stupefyingly long and involved) are what we teachers, as licensed state employees, are required to teach to our students. Our employers, the school districts, are responsible for holding us accountable for teaching those standards.

Everything is tied to the standards. Everything.

The standardized tests evaluate students' mastery of the standards. Their individual scores on those tests determine whether or not the students graduate from high school. The overall student scores on those tests determine a school's "success" rate which in turn determines the level of government involvement in the management of the school district, the funding provided to the school district, and - at its most extreme - the existence of the school district. Soon those scores will also help determine whether or not I keep my job (regardless of the motivation level of my students, parental involvement, and plain academic ability).

If the general public isn't happy with what the students are being taught there are several things they should do rather than rant on social networking sites about how terrible things are in the school system. They should acquaint themselves with their state's standards. (I wonder how many of those who were posting such negative comments even know what these standards are.) They should take an active part in their school community. So many of them said that our country is going downhill because of our educational system. If that's what they believe is true - get involved, get educated, and ask what can be done to help.

We educators have so many responsibilities to so many different people it's unbelievable. How many bosses does an average employee have? I have more than I can count. I am answerable to my principal, my superintendent and my school board. I am answerable to the parents' of my students. But most importantly, I am answerable to the kids who sit in my room every day and count on me to prepare them for the tests they will face in their lives - academic tests and life tests as well. And I can tell you this - I go into every day prepared for the challenge and I do it (almost every day) with a smile on my face. I love my job, and I'm tired of listening to people who don't have a clue run it down.

Llamas, opossums, and cats, oh my

Today was a great example of why I love teaching eighth graders.

We began a poetry unit last week, and there are several terms I have to try and get pounded into their brains for our state standards. We've talked about rhythm and rhyme, couplets, and free verse. At the end of the week last week, one of them asked about Haikus. We talked about those for a while, and some of them mentioned that they enjoyed writing them in elementary school. They asked if I'd accept a Haiku from them for extra credit. (Haikus are not in the eighth grade standards.) I said that'd be awesome, if some of them wanted to give it a go. Some said they would.

At that point, I grinned at them and said if I was evil, I'd make them write a sonnet - another type of poetry they need to be able to recognize. Well, they wanted to know why that would be so hard, and, of course, if there would be MORE extra credit available to them if they wrote one of those. I grinned bigger.

I laid out for them all of the requirements of a sonnet. 14 lines. Rhyme scheme: abab cdcd efef gg. Iambic pentameter. Their eyes were as big as saucers and their mouths hung open. When they could speak again, they said, "Please don't make us do that, Mrs. Honeycutt!" I promised them I wouldn't, even confessed I'd never tried to write one myself.

Then it happened.

"Mrs. Honeycutt!" came a shout from the back. "I want to try!" And then, a second later, a voice from the front, "I want to too!"

I grinned again. And said, "Okay."

If they get it done, and get it done right, they'll get some decent extra credit points. But do you see the magic of the middle schooler?

I set before them a very difficult task. I told them they didn't have to do it. I even told them that I'd never done it. And some of them bit.

"I'm up to the challenge!" one boy said. And I do believe he is. Before class was over, he'd started his sonnet. He said it's about llamas and opossums. The other boy who told me he's going to try is writing one about his cats. How can that not brighten your day?

How many times as adults do we still say, "I'm up to the challenge!" with a wide grin on our faces, looking forward to the work? Not as often as maybe we should.

My middle schoolers energize me. (Thank God, because they also drain my energy on an hourly basis!!) I love that part of them - their willingness to jump in feet first, and to smile as they go.

We won!

Last night was another home football game. Fans and spectators filled the stands again sporting their best maroon and white sportswear. There was reason to cheer - and cheer loudly. Cowbells clanged as our team scored touchdown after touchdown. The final score was 40-6; we tromped 'em. I actually began to feel a little sorry for our opponents. After all, last week, it was us.

We've been back in school for more than two weeks now. It's my first year teaching at the local middle school - the same middle school my daughter attended a few years ago. Although I felt somewhat familiar with the building and some of the teachers when the year started, I am now feeling much more a part of the whole community.

They aren't my students (yet) out there on the football field, or in the marching band, or even in the cheerleader outfits, although I do know some of them because of my daughter. But it will only be another year or two before I will be able to look at the rosters and say, "He was the class clown the year I had him," or "She wrote the funniest stories!" Those connections will be there; they're already sprouting.

As I walked past the student section of the bleachers at half time, I heard, "Mrs. Honeycutt!!" I looked over and into the stands and there were three or four of my eighth graders, grinning from ear to ear and waving enthusiastically at me. I grinned and waved back, then found myself waving and saying hi to several more of them as I walked. Even the young girl who, I believe, is developing an enviable dry, sarcastic wit, waved discreetly at me. (She'd told me earlier in the day that if she saw me at the game and didn't wave, it was because she hadn't seen me.) I smiled at her and waved discreetly back.

We all go to those games for different reasons, remember? I went last night because my daughter performed and because it's a community thing, and - finally - I'm really feeling more and more a part of that whole. Once my daughter graduates, I'm still going to have reasons to sit in the stands and yell for the team.

I need to get a cowbell.

First home game

Tonight was our high school football team's first home game. The bleachers were awash in maroon and black. I bought a new T-shirt myself just yesterday for the occasion. Although it rained most of the day today, the evening was perfect for football - temps in the high 60s with a light, cool breeze.

We cheered each time the team moved the ball down the field. We booed when the other team slammed our boys with late hits - twice in the same possession. We hollered our approval when our defense kept the other team out of the endzone, and some of us even clapped with the cheerleaders.

We lost the game 28-0.

There were lots of reasons for the loss, but my point tonight has nothing to do with dissecting plays. The biggest reason we lost is that the other team scored more points. (I stole that bit of sarcastic wit from my husband.)

What I want to focus on is that tonight's loss will more than likely have little to no effect on the attendance at the next home game. Anyone who has ever attended their local school's sporting events knows this to be true. Winning the game feels great for all involved but it isn't really why we go. At least, it isn't why most of us go.

We go to support the athletes on the field. Maybe they're related to us. Maybe they're our friends. Maybe they're our students. Or, maybe we don't know any of them at all, but we do know their parents or their grandparents. Somewhere, there's a connection between those of us in the bleachers and those on the field.

Sometimes, that connection is simply a vicarious one.

I went to the game tonight for a couple of reasons. My daughter performed with the marching band and her color guard at halftime, and I wanted my students to see me in the stands, to know I support them outside the classroom as well as inside.

But sitting there, watching the teenagers walk back and forth, back and forth, paying more attention to each other than they were to the game, I was carried back to high school. When a middle school girl stood on the ground in front of the bleachers and yelled up to a boy somewhere behind me in the stands, "Brandon, Amber likes you!" all I could do was smile. Who among us doesn't remember a similar exchange among our friends when we were thirteen or fourteen years old? And having the distance of (in my case) thirty-some years, we can smile now at the outburst rather than bury our faces in our hands in mortification.

Going to tonight's game hopefully strengthened my connections with some of my students. I know it made my daughter happy to have me there. But it also - for a moment or two - bridged several decades for me and allowed that teenager who I swear still lives inside me to take a few breaths of fresh, crisp, almost-autumn air. And it wasn't even homecoming.

Medication and procrastination

It's been a good Monday so far, but I have many items left on my to-do list for today. In case anyone should happen to read this who doesn't know me personally, let me tell you what I do for a living.

First, I'm a part-time middle English teacher. I've been teaching altogether for nine years - this is my tenth. I've been teaching middle school for four years, going on five now. I love the creatures that are defined as "middle school students." They are unlike any other living, breathing being on the planet and I can't imagine my work day without them. That's not to say, however, that they don't drive me stark-raving crazy sometimes!

For instance, I have a student who is seriously incapable of being still. He can't sit without tapping, rocking, or contorting himself into some form of a pretzel. He often gets up and walks around. He talks out in class when he shouldn't, and often just talks to himself. He's a pleasant boy and I truly believe he doesn't mean to cause trouble. But he does.

And this is one time when I firmly believe some medication would help the situation. I'm not one of those who wants to tranquilize every student that talks without raising her hand, or that gets out of his seat a couple times each class period to sharpen a pencil, throw something away, grab a tissue from my desk, etc. Middle school creatures are very energetic. It's in their nature and we shouldn't ask them to be otherwise.

HOWEVER, there are some conditions that require medical intervention and I think this boy is walking case study. He can't concentrate on what we're reading, so he can't answer questions when we're done. On top of that, he distracts others around him.

So, my plea to anyone who might ever read this who might have a child similar to the one I'm describing is: If your child's teachers tell you they see this type of behavior and this behavior is interfering with your child's learning, please consider a visit to the doctor. Consider an evaluation. It might make the classroom a much more pleasant place for everyone to be.

This blog's run longer than I intended so I'll be brief on the procrastination (rather than put it off for another day). In addition to teaching, I also do some freelance writing. I read business books and write summaries of them. Occasionally, these books are interesting. You can guess what they are when they aren't interesting. But they help pay the bills, so I read them and write about them.

I put off reading the one I had for July for a couple weeks because it was summer and I wanted a break. My editor was awesome about that and gave me as much time as I needed. I turned in my summary about two weeks later than I normally would have, but I had to push to get it in before school started because I'd put it off for so long. Then, I had to push hard to get ready for the first couple of days of school. I have a novel that I'm pitching and another one I'm doing background stuff for so that I can start writing it. The new novel hasn't been touched for over a month. Bad writer. Bad.

When I keep myself organized - school, freelance, home stuff (laundry, etc.), novel - then I can pretty much stay on top of everything. But I'm telling ya, vacation's a killer. (But I wouldn't trade summer break for . . . well, for a lot of things. I would trade it for an offer of representation AND a sale of my book, though.)

OK....My newest business book is lying open beside me, calling to me for attention. I owe it at least another half hour. Then there are clothes to steam, dinner to make, and papers to grade.

Oh - and a novel to pitch and one to write.

I'd better get busy.
Talk to ya soon.