And it happened like this

In the spring, one Chris Difford was soliciting some stories about imaginary friends. I believe that his intentions were to use those stories in a show. I thought nothing of it because I had never had an imaginary friend (unless you count fantasies about...never mind). The idea stuck around in my head and I found a story creeping down to my fingers. It turned into a story about an imaginary meeting with my son's birth mother. Through many tears I composed it and sent it to Chris. I don't know if he ever got it, but I put it away for a while. The subject shook me so heavily that I sobbed every time I read it.

Late in the summer, I realized that my writing had come to a grinding halt and I needed to leap out of the rut I had dug. I pulled out this short story. I fixed some words and sent it to a couple of magazines, including RED OCHRE LiT.

One magazine rejected it quite quickly. Then, I heard back from RED OCHRE LiT, from an intern who like the piece and asked a few questions for clarification. Immediately my hopes soared. I tried to stay realistic about the story, as I know that sometimes it can take weeks if not months to hear back from publishers and publications.

Today at lunch, I checked my email. I saw that RED OCHRE LiT had sent me a message. I covered my eyes, peeked through my fingers, and opened the message. It said congratulations, we love the story and want to publish it! It went on to tell me that they will get back to me about the specifics (publication date, any small changes, etc.). None of that matters at the moment. All I can think about is that some strangers, whose business is to publish literature, like my writing.

Is anyone listening?

Dear Presidents of the NEA and the AFT,

I have just started my 16th year of teaching and yet I wish with all of my might that this were my last year. I desperately wish that the nation's economy were in much better condition so I could change my career. I feel that the politics surrounding education have been so toxic that there is no turning back.

Here is Michigan, tenure has been thrown by the wayside, all collective bargaining has been legislated away, we are on the verge of becoming a "right-to-work" state with a privatized teaching core. None of these actions relate in any way to actual research on best teaching practices or incorporating much needed social services in our poorest schools. Nope, this is all about destroying unions and decreasing salaries and about turning schools over to private corporations so they have captive markets and can reap all that taxpayer money.

But, down deep, you already know that. So, what are we to do? Are we to continue to try and compromise with an opponent whose demagoguery is driven by some odd combination of the Chicago School of Economics philosophy (the one that killed Allende, brought Pinochet to power, and drove Chile to its knees) and religious fanaticism that believes that Jesus today would spit on the poor? People who cheer at the thought of an uninsured person's death? People who listen to a radio announcer who called a 13 year Chelsea Clinton a dog? People who knowingly lied about weapons of mass destruction? Can one actually reason with and compromise with people like these? I don't think so. But, we keep trying - like good teachers who try to reach that angry student who is about to give up. Sadly, it isn't working.

I am not the only teacher who feels like this. There are many and we are looking to you for your leadership in making this happen. You see, we trench-working teachers are busy with lesson plans and marking papers. You and the leadership of the two unions have time for this task, so I beseech you to do the following:

CALL A STRIKE! CALL A STRIKE! CALL A STRIKE!

Shut the schools down for a few days. Flex our muscles. Show them that we have come to the fight prepared to win or at least not go down with a whimper. Call it and we will follow - I promise.

I'll be damned if I lose my job in three years (that is the time frame) without fighting back.

CALL A STRIKE!

A winner and a dilemma

Okay, my kids voted on the car names today and now I have a dilemma.

They voted for an anonymously nominated name and so now there's no winner. I wasn't thinking and accidentally included the name and now it's won. The winner is Toni's Pony. I'd much rather go with a name that was actually nominated by someone with a name. I suppose I could tell the kids one thing and still announce the name of the second place winner - nominated by someone who attached a name to it.

I want to be honest, but I also want to crown a winner. Oh, why can't I make things easy on myself?

First day

Even after 16 years on the job, I still get first day jitters. I know that my brain is still partially in summer mode and the kids' brains will be more than partially stuck in summer. I study over mostly faceless names and I hope that I pronounce them correctly as names are important.

This year is going to be hectic. I have five unique classes that I am teaching, which means 10-15 hours of planning a week. That's 10-15 hours of my own time. That doesn't count the number of papers I always grade. And, let's not even mention the political atmosphere surrounding public education. That all just depresses me.

First days are usually uneventful. Everyone approaches the day with just a little trepidation and even the most reluctant student makes noises about turning over a new leaf. I rattle my sabre and try to show them that my class will make them smarter, but only if they give their full effort.

Today was really no different that most other first days. A lot of kids were missing because those are the types of kids I teach. Maybe they'll show up tomorrow, or next week. Whenever their parents get around to sending them. Far too many show up without even a pencil. Three 10th graders tried to sleep in my seventh hour class. The majority, however, were polite and tried to put their best foot forward; "please" and "thank you" were abundantly used today.

Problems? For two of my classes, the 35 desks in my room are not enough. One student sat at my desk, while another sat at my work table in the front of the room. We'll have to fix that. How? I don't know. There is no more room for student desks in my room. Adding more would be a fire hazard.

I'm tired and drinking a little Zen green tea as I still have work to do this evening. I've already put in an two extra hours, between before school and since the school day ended. I still have about 45 minutes more to go. I guess I better get to it.

Humor is a funny thing

I really want Andrew to like Bugs Bunny. I know that at age seven, I was in love with cartoons and especially loved both Bugs and Rocky and Bullwinkle. Of course, unlike this mean mom, my mother let us watch television.

I won't go into all the reason why I chose to not have a television and why I haven't let Andrew watch any television since we adopted him. I will say that, considering the repetitive language he exhibits, I am glad that I made that choice. I would rather hear the same inane facts about trucks or rocks that he learned from a book than the inane script of some television show.

Having said that, a primary component of autism is social awkwardness. I don't want him to be ostracized, so one thing that we (both his father and I) have decided is okay is monitored doses of YouTube. If it were solely up to Andrew, we would only watch truck videos, with an occasional train video thrown in for variety. What we have tried to do is show him bits and pieces of movies and older cartoons, to try and broaden his horizons.

That hasn't gone as well as I had hoped. I was positive that Bugs would leave him in stitches. It didn't. He doesn't even find Mr Bean particularly funny. I tried that today and his response, "This isn't funny." Man, I thought it would be right up a seven year old's alley.

The problem with humor and autism is that many autistic people see the world in very black and white tones. Humor is gray. For example, we went to the library and, of course, we checked out some non-fiction truck books. But, evil English teacher mom that I am, I insisted that he check out three fiction books that he can use to practice reading and interacting with literary techniques (all gray area concepts). He chose a book titled Recess Riddles. Each page has a kid friendly joke and a picture that helps re-enforce the punchline. My favorite joke was this one:

Why is the library the tallest part of the school?
Because it has so many stories.

Now, maybe I'm a very simple soul, but I chuckled while my child stared dumbfounded at the page. He did find the picture of the towering books to be mildly funny. I should explain that he knows all the meanings of "story": a) a narrative and b)a floor in a building. When I spent about five minutes explaining that it was a play on words, all he said was "Oh, word play. Okay." The rest of the book followed suit.

Let's face it, jokes and humor are nothing but figurative language; puns, metaphors, etc. And, perhaps there are plenty of seven year olds who haven't been allowed to watch television who wouldn't get that joke. For me, it's a reminder to keep my extremely sarcastic side in check. It's a reminder of the million and one lessons I need to share with my son. Perhaps, this is why he told me today, three times even, that I need a flat screen television here at my new place. I don't want one, but, if it helps him be less of an outsider, I'd have to consider it.

For the record, Andrew regularly laughs at all sorts of things. As far as popular culture, he thinks the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote are pretty funny.