Previously, I've discussed how important test scores are to my continued career as a teacher. Well, the ACT scores are rolling in and the scenario is bleak.
Just to refresh your memory, in March all eleventh graders took a battery of tests over a three day period. The first test given was the ACT. The laws around this are astounding as students who had been in the country for as little a few weeks took these tests, including the ACT. The ACT is a very difficult test and does not test basic skills. It is a test used to make predictions about how a student will perform in college. If you can't read English in a quick, skimming manner and do that for comprehension, you will do poorly on this test.
In order to stop a state takeover of our school, we need two things to happen. First, we need our test scores to improve by 10 percent. Second, we need to NOT land in the bottom five percent of high schools in the state. There is actually a third, but I can't recall the exact details, so I've skipped it for now. Last year, our average ACT was 15 point something. In order to make a ten percent jump, and make "safe harbor" our scores needed to improve to approximately 17 percent. We are currently at 16.4 percent. I learned this last night after work at the bar. I was only drinking juice, but at that moment I really wanted to add a shot of vodka to my glass.
We need the results from the other two days of testing before our fate is finalized, but my spirit is currently waning.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Schadenfreude
Normally, I do not wish ill on those I do not like, especially if young children will be impacted at some point. I do, however, have to admit to feeling a slight giggle in my soul when I read this yesterday. You see, the principal in question is my former boss. I want to share one story about this guy. I have dozens more, but those involve other people and I don't have their permission to tell their stories.
The story starts in the November before Andrew came home. Our home study had just been approved by Ontario and was in the process of being translated into Chinese. Out of no where, a co-worker and his wife adopt a domestically born baby girl. Their process had been far more covert and it seems that paperwork from the employer was not needed. For Andrew's adoption, I needed to supply a letter of recommendation from my direct supervisor and a letter from HR stating my salary and length of employment. The sudden news shook me up a little and I found myself in anxious tears and even feeling guilty about crying at their happiness. Of course, I wasn't actually crying at their happiness, just at my own situation. I was even terrified to attend the first staff meeting after their bundle arrived because I couldn't handle all the emotions seeing of cooing co-workers and the delivery of baby gifts. Thankfully, the new parent wasn't there and a number of other teachers seemed to sense my anxiety. I remember quite distinctly a veteran English teacher gently grabbing my arm and sincerely asking me how I was doing. Of course I dissolved into tears. I crawled to a corner and sniffled into a tissue for the whole meeting.
Perhaps ten minutes after the meeting was adjourned, I was in my classroom, preparing to leave when a friend of mine came to my room. She told me that the principal (the guy mentioned in the article) asked her "Why was TC crying?" She, as best as she could, explained that the recent adoption news had hit me pretty hard. He replied, "What, why? She jealous?" My head spun, I just couldn't believe it. I work in a small district where I have worked hard to earn the respect of people at all levels of the hierarchy. This sometimes helps me open doors that others can't even find and I was able to make an appointment with the superintendent the very next day. At this meeting, he assured me that I would immediately receive an apology letter.
I don't know how many days passed, but a typed letter did eventually show up in my school mailbox. It said something to the effect of "sorry you were offended." Two more letters, with the same sentiment were tried. Two months later, the superintendent, the principal, my union president, and I sat down in my classroom. After an hour of I can't remember what, my union president exasperatedly asked,"Are you going to to say sorry or what?" Like a child forced to apologize for hitting a sibling, he said something that resembled sorry and he and I spoke less than 15 times in the next four years. That's amazingly low considering that I was and still am the Student Council adviser.
This is just one story. I could regale you with the time he told a student I was bullshit because I taped the pep rally plans to his door. Or about the time he told other people in the district that he had the worst staff in the district. Or the time he actually told his staff that he didn't "do e-mail." Or the way he pounded his chest and slapped hands with some of the biggest, most violent assholes in the building and allowed them to call him "Vic." But I can feel the hate in my soul rising to a dangerous level.
You see, I took a leave last year and I told everyone that it was because Andrew was starting school. It was really because I was going to break and my whole being was consumed with rage toward this moron. I am in a much better place mentally because of my decision.
The story starts in the November before Andrew came home. Our home study had just been approved by Ontario and was in the process of being translated into Chinese. Out of no where, a co-worker and his wife adopt a domestically born baby girl. Their process had been far more covert and it seems that paperwork from the employer was not needed. For Andrew's adoption, I needed to supply a letter of recommendation from my direct supervisor and a letter from HR stating my salary and length of employment. The sudden news shook me up a little and I found myself in anxious tears and even feeling guilty about crying at their happiness. Of course, I wasn't actually crying at their happiness, just at my own situation. I was even terrified to attend the first staff meeting after their bundle arrived because I couldn't handle all the emotions seeing of cooing co-workers and the delivery of baby gifts. Thankfully, the new parent wasn't there and a number of other teachers seemed to sense my anxiety. I remember quite distinctly a veteran English teacher gently grabbing my arm and sincerely asking me how I was doing. Of course I dissolved into tears. I crawled to a corner and sniffled into a tissue for the whole meeting.
Perhaps ten minutes after the meeting was adjourned, I was in my classroom, preparing to leave when a friend of mine came to my room. She told me that the principal (the guy mentioned in the article) asked her "Why was TC crying?" She, as best as she could, explained that the recent adoption news had hit me pretty hard. He replied, "What, why? She jealous?" My head spun, I just couldn't believe it. I work in a small district where I have worked hard to earn the respect of people at all levels of the hierarchy. This sometimes helps me open doors that others can't even find and I was able to make an appointment with the superintendent the very next day. At this meeting, he assured me that I would immediately receive an apology letter.
I don't know how many days passed, but a typed letter did eventually show up in my school mailbox. It said something to the effect of "sorry you were offended." Two more letters, with the same sentiment were tried. Two months later, the superintendent, the principal, my union president, and I sat down in my classroom. After an hour of I can't remember what, my union president exasperatedly asked,"Are you going to to say sorry or what?" Like a child forced to apologize for hitting a sibling, he said something that resembled sorry and he and I spoke less than 15 times in the next four years. That's amazingly low considering that I was and still am the Student Council adviser.
This is just one story. I could regale you with the time he told a student I was bullshit because I taped the pep rally plans to his door. Or about the time he told other people in the district that he had the worst staff in the district. Or the time he actually told his staff that he didn't "do e-mail." Or the way he pounded his chest and slapped hands with some of the biggest, most violent assholes in the building and allowed them to call him "Vic." But I can feel the hate in my soul rising to a dangerous level.
You see, I took a leave last year and I told everyone that it was because Andrew was starting school. It was really because I was going to break and my whole being was consumed with rage toward this moron. I am in a much better place mentally because of my decision.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
To reunion or not to reunion, that is the question
I was a very shy and anonymous teenager. I did not play any sports, instead I took pictures of athletes for the school paper. I can't even describe how much happier I felt isolated in the darkroom than with my peers. I always felt that everyone was smarter and more attractive than me, with a much brighter future. If you gave me a million dollars to safely travel back in time to high school, I would think about the offer for a loooooong time and ultimately, I might just turn it down.
I had friends. I have sadly lost touch with them and even sadder, my very best friend from high school died in a car accident about four years after we graduated. I know that there are people from high school I'd like to see, they just did not necessarily graduate the same year as me. My graduating class was almost 700 strong (I went to an enormous suburban sprawl school) and my closest friends did not graduate with me. Some graduated from the other school across the campus (there were two schools on our campus at that time and everyone had classes in both buildings) and some graduated other years. All I really remember about graduation is that The Smiths were performing that night and my parents wouldn't let me go because of my/their graduation party.
The date, location, and cost for my 25th reunion have just been announced. The cost is reasonable - $35. I know where it is. The date is an unknown for me yet as a certain British pop band has yet to release their US tour dates. If the date is clear, I suppose I could go. But, just thinking about it makes my stomach churn. While I am most certainly no longer shy and anonymous, I just can't think of a smashing reason to attend. First, I don't really know any of the people who have taken on the task of planning this reunion. We personally have no high school memories to share and to look back upon fondly. They are nice enough people who felt motivated to plan a huge party. Second, I don't see too many familiar faces on the Facebook group for my class. So, I don't know the planners and I don't know the people who currently know about this event. That just sounds like a recipe for a long night, too much wine, and way too many Michael Jackson songs.
Have any of you attended a reunion? How did it go? Give me a good reason to go, if there isn't a Squeeze concert competing against it (oh, the reunion will lose to the concert, hands down).
I had friends. I have sadly lost touch with them and even sadder, my very best friend from high school died in a car accident about four years after we graduated. I know that there are people from high school I'd like to see, they just did not necessarily graduate the same year as me. My graduating class was almost 700 strong (I went to an enormous suburban sprawl school) and my closest friends did not graduate with me. Some graduated from the other school across the campus (there were two schools on our campus at that time and everyone had classes in both buildings) and some graduated other years. All I really remember about graduation is that The Smiths were performing that night and my parents wouldn't let me go because of my/their graduation party.
The date, location, and cost for my 25th reunion have just been announced. The cost is reasonable - $35. I know where it is. The date is an unknown for me yet as a certain British pop band has yet to release their US tour dates. If the date is clear, I suppose I could go. But, just thinking about it makes my stomach churn. While I am most certainly no longer shy and anonymous, I just can't think of a smashing reason to attend. First, I don't really know any of the people who have taken on the task of planning this reunion. We personally have no high school memories to share and to look back upon fondly. They are nice enough people who felt motivated to plan a huge party. Second, I don't see too many familiar faces on the Facebook group for my class. So, I don't know the planners and I don't know the people who currently know about this event. That just sounds like a recipe for a long night, too much wine, and way too many Michael Jackson songs.
Have any of you attended a reunion? How did it go? Give me a good reason to go, if there isn't a Squeeze concert competing against it (oh, the reunion will lose to the concert, hands down).
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Ahhhh, the joys of spring!
Sadly, the bursting forth of buds, the twitter of returning birds, and the lengthening of days has also ushered in a rush of testosterone and a complete lack of civility. If it's spring, let the fighting begin.
In the last 10 years, I can honestly say that spring brings us two to four large scale fights, that when one is in the middle of it, feels like a riot. By large scale, I mean more than 10 kids fighting with the rest of the stupid student body crowding around cheering on the mayhem. In a school like mine, these fights almost always break along racial/ethnic lines. Probably for the last nine years, the African-American students and the Arabic students have been the main combatants. When questioned, of course nobody can explain why these two groups have such an intense springtime hatred of one another. All I know is that it will lead to everyone being in a shitty mood and a jail-like atmosphere being imposed on the student body as a whole.
On Friday, the first big fight broke out, but I have no idea when or where. Of course, ultimately, the situation can be traced back to a bad decision by an administrator. The senior class apparently still needs to raise money for its prom and thus requested a dodgeball tournament. By the way, according to the assistant principal, dodgeball is banned from schools in the state of Michigan. The principal approved it anyway. Tickets would be sold for two or three bucks and the tournament would be held during second and third hour. Yes, you read that correctly, students could pay a couple of buck and miss two classes. What a bargain!!! That's another pet peeve of mine, but an entirely different conversation. The kiddies went over to the building that contains the gym (it is a separate building) and surprise, surprise, there were a number of outsiders, drop-outs, and garden variety thugs hanging around. It is my understanding that some of those darlings sneaked into the event. This is where the details get a little hazy for me. At some point, a melee broke out in the bleachers and some students tumbled down the bleachers while others ran for the doors. The fight spilled outside and then into the parking lot. At this point, we have a riot on our hands. Some kids are beating the shit out of each other, while others are running around without their shirts - whooping and hollering. I was with my class, the only nine that hour who had not bought tickets. We witnessed the arrival of two ambulances and a number of cop cars and heard the announcement that were on lockdown. My student teacher took a walk to see what was up and he said it was a mess. I then wandered to the office where I saw one boy who has never been in a lick of trouble holding an ice pack to his head. He had a giant welt in the middle of his forehead because someone thought to try and drive his head through the ground. Apparently he had been jumped one other time out on the streets.
The students from the dodgeball tournament were ushered into the auditorium where our prinicpal told them that he wasn't going to suspend anybody!!!! By this time, the lunch hour had come around, the bells were turned off, and cops were all over the building (eight by my count). My student teacher and I stood outside the lunchroom ushering kids to the right spots, making sure there was no lingering. Sadly, the police were no help.
I know that a cop's job is tough and dangerous, but sometimes they simply make a situation worse. I asked one boy where he was going and he didn't respond. I teach high school, so I'm quite used to being ignored. Well, a cop grabbed the kid by his shirt and brought him to me. I asked him for his teacher's name and in very broken English told me the name of an ESL teacher. I told him to hurry to class and then I told one of the officers that the student didn't speak English. the cop chuckled and said, "Well, he will today." Idiot.
The rest of the day was tense and calm. Unfortunately, 13 years of experience tell me that we are not over the hump. Hell, we might not even be able to see the top of the hump at the moment. All I know was that today was a peaceful day and for that I am grateful.
In the last 10 years, I can honestly say that spring brings us two to four large scale fights, that when one is in the middle of it, feels like a riot. By large scale, I mean more than 10 kids fighting with the rest of the stupid student body crowding around cheering on the mayhem. In a school like mine, these fights almost always break along racial/ethnic lines. Probably for the last nine years, the African-American students and the Arabic students have been the main combatants. When questioned, of course nobody can explain why these two groups have such an intense springtime hatred of one another. All I know is that it will lead to everyone being in a shitty mood and a jail-like atmosphere being imposed on the student body as a whole.
On Friday, the first big fight broke out, but I have no idea when or where. Of course, ultimately, the situation can be traced back to a bad decision by an administrator. The senior class apparently still needs to raise money for its prom and thus requested a dodgeball tournament. By the way, according to the assistant principal, dodgeball is banned from schools in the state of Michigan. The principal approved it anyway. Tickets would be sold for two or three bucks and the tournament would be held during second and third hour. Yes, you read that correctly, students could pay a couple of buck and miss two classes. What a bargain!!! That's another pet peeve of mine, but an entirely different conversation. The kiddies went over to the building that contains the gym (it is a separate building) and surprise, surprise, there were a number of outsiders, drop-outs, and garden variety thugs hanging around. It is my understanding that some of those darlings sneaked into the event. This is where the details get a little hazy for me. At some point, a melee broke out in the bleachers and some students tumbled down the bleachers while others ran for the doors. The fight spilled outside and then into the parking lot. At this point, we have a riot on our hands. Some kids are beating the shit out of each other, while others are running around without their shirts - whooping and hollering. I was with my class, the only nine that hour who had not bought tickets. We witnessed the arrival of two ambulances and a number of cop cars and heard the announcement that were on lockdown. My student teacher took a walk to see what was up and he said it was a mess. I then wandered to the office where I saw one boy who has never been in a lick of trouble holding an ice pack to his head. He had a giant welt in the middle of his forehead because someone thought to try and drive his head through the ground. Apparently he had been jumped one other time out on the streets.
The students from the dodgeball tournament were ushered into the auditorium where our prinicpal told them that he wasn't going to suspend anybody!!!! By this time, the lunch hour had come around, the bells were turned off, and cops were all over the building (eight by my count). My student teacher and I stood outside the lunchroom ushering kids to the right spots, making sure there was no lingering. Sadly, the police were no help.
I know that a cop's job is tough and dangerous, but sometimes they simply make a situation worse. I asked one boy where he was going and he didn't respond. I teach high school, so I'm quite used to being ignored. Well, a cop grabbed the kid by his shirt and brought him to me. I asked him for his teacher's name and in very broken English told me the name of an ESL teacher. I told him to hurry to class and then I told one of the officers that the student didn't speak English. the cop chuckled and said, "Well, he will today." Idiot.
The rest of the day was tense and calm. Unfortunately, 13 years of experience tell me that we are not over the hump. Hell, we might not even be able to see the top of the hump at the moment. All I know was that today was a peaceful day and for that I am grateful.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Testing Day 1
"Do not look back in your answer document. Do not look at the test that follows. Do no smile (this is serious business). Do not question authority. Do not think, just color in those little ovals like your very life depends on it."
Actually, my life depends on those bubbles, that isn't your problem.
Today, juniors across the state of Michigan participated in the first of three days of testing. The treat today was the ACT. The ACT consists of five timed tests: English (75 questions/45 minutes), Math (60 questions/60 minutes), Reading (40 questions/35 minutes), Science (40 questions/35 minutes), and Writing (one essay/30 minutes). Illinois and Kentucky also use the ACT as their statewide test.
The rules for the ACT are quite strict. Students are to be seated three feet apart from each other. No cell phones or other electronic devices (except calculators for the math). No reading material. No food or beverages. Here is my first issue. Water hydrates the body and mind. It can help keep you sharp and alert. I know that if I don't drink enough water in a day, I will feel more tired than usual. I do understand that a bottle of water can spill and cause a distraction. I also know that drinking water can greatly increase the urgency to use the bathroom (thus losing testing time). But testing conditions are no way realistic or conducive to optimal performance. If I am hungry or thirsty, those are the thoughts that will consume my mind.
The ACT nazis prevent me from disclosing any questions I may have seen on the test, including the essay. All I'll say is that it is a long day. The students in my room seemed to be taking the test quite seriously and were really trying to answer all the questions. Unfortunately, on all of the multiple choice tests, it seems that of the 20 students in the room, only nine or ten actually finished. From walking around the room, it seems that the majority of the students filled in one bubble spot once the five minute warning was given. By that, I mean that students were told (and told and told) in advance that if they are unable to finish all the questions, color in either the second or third oval. Sadly, it seems that the students in my room filled in the first bubble, so our chances for good scores are pretty remote for many of my students.
Tomorrow's test, WorkKeys. This is also created by the ACT people, but is simpler and an employment skills test. It will slos be s shorter day.
Actually, my life depends on those bubbles, that isn't your problem.
Today, juniors across the state of Michigan participated in the first of three days of testing. The treat today was the ACT. The ACT consists of five timed tests: English (75 questions/45 minutes), Math (60 questions/60 minutes), Reading (40 questions/35 minutes), Science (40 questions/35 minutes), and Writing (one essay/30 minutes). Illinois and Kentucky also use the ACT as their statewide test.
The rules for the ACT are quite strict. Students are to be seated three feet apart from each other. No cell phones or other electronic devices (except calculators for the math). No reading material. No food or beverages. Here is my first issue. Water hydrates the body and mind. It can help keep you sharp and alert. I know that if I don't drink enough water in a day, I will feel more tired than usual. I do understand that a bottle of water can spill and cause a distraction. I also know that drinking water can greatly increase the urgency to use the bathroom (thus losing testing time). But testing conditions are no way realistic or conducive to optimal performance. If I am hungry or thirsty, those are the thoughts that will consume my mind.
The ACT nazis prevent me from disclosing any questions I may have seen on the test, including the essay. All I'll say is that it is a long day. The students in my room seemed to be taking the test quite seriously and were really trying to answer all the questions. Unfortunately, on all of the multiple choice tests, it seems that of the 20 students in the room, only nine or ten actually finished. From walking around the room, it seems that the majority of the students filled in one bubble spot once the five minute warning was given. By that, I mean that students were told (and told and told) in advance that if they are unable to finish all the questions, color in either the second or third oval. Sadly, it seems that the students in my room filled in the first bubble, so our chances for good scores are pretty remote for many of my students.
Tomorrow's test, WorkKeys. This is also created by the ACT people, but is simpler and an employment skills test. It will slos be s shorter day.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Test anxiety
On March 9,10, and 11, all the juniors in the state of Michigan will take a battery of tests. The first test they take will be the ACT, which is essentially a college entrance exam. The second day's test will be comprised of WorkKeys, which is an employment skills test, and the last day is the Michigan MME. Some secret formula of these three tests will determine if a school achieves something called Adequate Yearly Progress (AYP). That means a school has met the numerical benchmarks set by the federal law No Child Left Behind (NCLB). Test scores, graduation rates, and test day attendance all determine if a school makes AYP. If a school goes six years without making the numbers, all members of the teaching and administrative staff can be fired and the school can than be turned over to a private (and in Michigan, this means for-profit) management firm to run a charter school. My school is at this stage.
I will fill in the numbers and statistics later in the week, but at this moment, my level of anxiety is through the roof. There has not been a day this week that I have not cried. I can't sleep and if it's not junk food, my appetite has been non existent. I don't know what I would do if I lost my job. To be honest, my district is, from top to bottom, completely dysfunctional. In my 13 years, I have had seven superintendents, four principals, and five assistant principals. I have not been observed since 1999. At this point in my career, I have no clue if I am the least bit competent at my job. My ego says I'm doing a decent job, but my ego is a pathological liar. When I started teaching American Literature 10 years ago, there were no copies of either The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn or The Grapes of Wrath in the school. I don't know what the hell students were reading. I went to every used bookstore in Metro Detroit and bought every copy I could. On one hand, I know that my culturally disparate students have probably benefited from reading those books and having a common American cultural touchstone with other American students, but have I done those works of art justice? I don't know.
We won't know if our school moves from failing to passing until July. Every pressing decision in my life is on hold, causing more anxiety. I try not to discuss it at work because we are all feeling the load on our shoulders. Even the agnostics and atheists (a party of at least one) on staff are probably saying silent prayers. If I don't discuss it at work, I don't discuss it at all. My isolation in a foreign land has become a locked closet. I know this is yet another issue to handle, but at the moment, I can barely handle laundry and dishes on the same day.
The news of the firing of all the teachers at Central Falls High School in Rhode Island has not helped. There is much that we in Hamtramck have in common with Central Falls. High rate of poverty, a large population of non-English speakers, and a transient population are just a few of the issues we share. More on that later this week.
In the meantime, I will spend the weekend reading many wonderful narrative written by the students in AP Literature and Composition. These will lift my spirits, at least until Moday.
I will fill in the numbers and statistics later in the week, but at this moment, my level of anxiety is through the roof. There has not been a day this week that I have not cried. I can't sleep and if it's not junk food, my appetite has been non existent. I don't know what I would do if I lost my job. To be honest, my district is, from top to bottom, completely dysfunctional. In my 13 years, I have had seven superintendents, four principals, and five assistant principals. I have not been observed since 1999. At this point in my career, I have no clue if I am the least bit competent at my job. My ego says I'm doing a decent job, but my ego is a pathological liar. When I started teaching American Literature 10 years ago, there were no copies of either The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn or The Grapes of Wrath in the school. I don't know what the hell students were reading. I went to every used bookstore in Metro Detroit and bought every copy I could. On one hand, I know that my culturally disparate students have probably benefited from reading those books and having a common American cultural touchstone with other American students, but have I done those works of art justice? I don't know.
We won't know if our school moves from failing to passing until July. Every pressing decision in my life is on hold, causing more anxiety. I try not to discuss it at work because we are all feeling the load on our shoulders. Even the agnostics and atheists (a party of at least one) on staff are probably saying silent prayers. If I don't discuss it at work, I don't discuss it at all. My isolation in a foreign land has become a locked closet. I know this is yet another issue to handle, but at the moment, I can barely handle laundry and dishes on the same day.
The news of the firing of all the teachers at Central Falls High School in Rhode Island has not helped. There is much that we in Hamtramck have in common with Central Falls. High rate of poverty, a large population of non-English speakers, and a transient population are just a few of the issues we share. More on that later this week.
In the meantime, I will spend the weekend reading many wonderful narrative written by the students in AP Literature and Composition. These will lift my spirits, at least until Moday.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Windsor Writers' Group
I've just gotten back from the first meeting of the Windsor Writers' Group. It was held at Pause Cafe in downtown. Technically, the cafe was closed, but the owner (whose name I can't recall) held it open just for us.
I am very bad at guesstimating crowd sizes, but certainly more than 20 people were in attendance. I had to chuckle as it appeared that I was one of the younger people in the crowd. That's really saying something for a middle-aged English teacher. The meeting was organized by Lenore of Cranberry Press and Elaine of Walkerville Press, both local self-publishing companies. They both mentioned that the city of Windsor had not had a proper writer's community, but small pockets of writers who regularly got together. This meeting was an attempt to bring many writers together for mutual support and idea sharing.
There was a fair amount of discussion about what people were looking for from a writers' group. Not everyone shared, but the loud-mouth that I am, I tossed in my two cents. It was decided that the people in the group would e-mail their ideas to Elaine and Lenore. For example, should poets just meet with poets and prose writers just with prose writers? How would the group come back as a whole to share or hold readings? Hopefully, all of those issues will get hashed out quickly and the writers can really sit down and get to work.
I am really looking forward to this group for a lot of reasons. One, it's important to be reminded that others are struggling with some of the same issues as me. Whether it's writer's block or that eternal struggle between balancing work, child-rearing, and the writing passion, we all suffer at one time or another. why reinvent the wheel when others can offer valid help. Moreover, I hope to make real connections in this group. Not working in Windsor doesn't give me a natural entree into the Windsor social scene and I've been relying on others to help me. Frankly, after eight years of living here, I still basically know no one. That's my fault and I hope to rectify that by meeting people with common interests.
Since the concert on Friday, I've written quite a bit. I "finished" Chapter Seven and I started the eighth. I find that I need a fair amount of external stimulus to help my brain generate ideas. If I spend too much time in my own brain, I get mired in stale musty cobwebs. I hope that just getting out of my normal routine and talking about writing will shake things up for me a bit.
Having said all that, I am looking forward to the next meeting.
I am very bad at guesstimating crowd sizes, but certainly more than 20 people were in attendance. I had to chuckle as it appeared that I was one of the younger people in the crowd. That's really saying something for a middle-aged English teacher. The meeting was organized by Lenore of Cranberry Press and Elaine of Walkerville Press, both local self-publishing companies. They both mentioned that the city of Windsor had not had a proper writer's community, but small pockets of writers who regularly got together. This meeting was an attempt to bring many writers together for mutual support and idea sharing.
There was a fair amount of discussion about what people were looking for from a writers' group. Not everyone shared, but the loud-mouth that I am, I tossed in my two cents. It was decided that the people in the group would e-mail their ideas to Elaine and Lenore. For example, should poets just meet with poets and prose writers just with prose writers? How would the group come back as a whole to share or hold readings? Hopefully, all of those issues will get hashed out quickly and the writers can really sit down and get to work.
I am really looking forward to this group for a lot of reasons. One, it's important to be reminded that others are struggling with some of the same issues as me. Whether it's writer's block or that eternal struggle between balancing work, child-rearing, and the writing passion, we all suffer at one time or another. why reinvent the wheel when others can offer valid help. Moreover, I hope to make real connections in this group. Not working in Windsor doesn't give me a natural entree into the Windsor social scene and I've been relying on others to help me. Frankly, after eight years of living here, I still basically know no one. That's my fault and I hope to rectify that by meeting people with common interests.
Since the concert on Friday, I've written quite a bit. I "finished" Chapter Seven and I started the eighth. I find that I need a fair amount of external stimulus to help my brain generate ideas. If I spend too much time in my own brain, I get mired in stale musty cobwebs. I hope that just getting out of my normal routine and talking about writing will shake things up for me a bit.
Having said all that, I am looking forward to the next meeting.
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