Mrs. Wade — My first grade teacher. I think this woman was my first love. I was a year younger than my classmates, but she never treated me any differently. She had hair the color of autumn leaves, perfect for the beginning of the school year, and was just plump enough to be cute and cuddly. She always greeted us with a smile and a hug, two things I wasn’t so used to seeing on a daily basis. And she always spoke with excitement and enthusiasm, no matter what we were studying.

Mrs. Stone — My second grade teacher. Talk about a wake-up call. She was by far the meanest woman I had ever met, at least at that point. I’m not sure how old she was, but to a six-year-old, gray hair = pretty darn old. She barely smiled, often spoke with a hateful, bitter tone, and just flat out did not like hyper little boys. I can’t hardly remember one single lesson she taught us, but I do remember being told to “Sit down” and “shut up” a few times. I had a weak stomach in second grade and I remember she was reading us a story. I suddenly felt as if I were going to vomit. I begged and pleaded to go to the restroom, or even the trash can, without luck. So, after a few minutes of no longer being able to wait, I walked to the front of the room, turned to Mrs. Stone, and vomited on her shoes. Believe it or not, she didn’t even flinch. She stared at her feet, stared at me, mumbled a bitter-sounding, “Well…” and pointed to the door. I sat in the back of the room near the bathroom for the rest of the year.

Mr. Copley — My fourth grade teacher and the first teacher who became a close friend as I grew up. He was funny, taught class in an interactive and engaging way, and I could really tell he cared about us. He was a portly gentleman with a full beard and an infectious smile. Once, while working on an assignment, I could not settle down. He called me to his desk, wrapped his arms around me tightly, and asked, “Do you know what I’m doing? I’m squeezing the meanness out of you. Is it working?” I smiled and mumbled, “Nope.” We laughed together and when I returned to my seat, I was settled (at least until the next day). Mr. Copley was also the first teacher to inspire me to write. A few years ago, Mr. Copley died in a motorcycle accident. I found out about it well after it happened, so I did not get to say goodbye. Thank you, Mr. Copley, for being the first teacher I could also call “friend”.

Mrs. Priddy — My elementary school phys ed teacher. Though I’ve never been athletic, I have always been fond of exercise if it were fun and active. Mrs. Priddy was the most dynamic phys ed teacher I have ever had, back when phys ed was fun and it was okay to jump around and do your own thing, to make physical activity like a game rather than a sport. In middle school, all we did was play a lot of basketball and do some warm-ups before. In Mrs. Priddy’s class, we jumped through hoops, tossed giant balls back and forth, pretended to me riding horses, spun around in circles, flapped our arms like giant birds, all for the sake of physical activity. I see her often today and I am sure she is proud of me and my unique physical abilities. Thank you, Mrs. Priddy.

Mrs. Racer — My ninth grade English teacher. After two years of misery in junior high, I finally found a teacher I could really enjoy. She incited my love for literature and writing and made me into a devoted fan of Stephen King. She was one of the boldest, most out-of-the-box teachers I have ever known and became one of my good friends after I graduated. I remember she would close her door and read forbidden Stephen King stories to us because they were good literature. She was even brave enough to read most of The Stand to us. I was a depressing mess in ninth grade, often wishing my life could end soon and quickly, and she filled me with confidence every day by giving me a safe place where I knew I could express myself without fear of judgment or humiliation. I came to her room often, crying about whatever was bothering me that day, and she would encourage me to hold strong, chin up. And, of course, my struggles were encouraged to be the topic of my writing. She is my greatest inspiration as a teacher and I strive to be as inspiring to my students as she was to me.

Mr. Miller — My high school Biology teacher. Mr. Miller was a hard-edged, strict science teacher who taught with a slight, old-fashioned, southern African-American accent, in which he said words like “particularily”. He ate grapes on a daily basis because he believed the made you smarter, and took science and learning very seriously. he had a reputation for being the strictest and most difficult teacher in the school. The most exciting aspect of his class, though, was that students had to do 4 dissections. I loved science (still do) and was looking forward to the chance to cut open some animals. Our first dissection was a crayfish. At the beginning of class, trays were on every desk with a crayfish already lying on top, with various dissecting tools next to the tray. Mr. Miller handed out a sheet with squares, and each square was labeled. Our goal was to remove the parts, place them on the correct square, and he would come around with a clipboard and give us a grade. All grades would be posted on the wall with student ID #s the next day. “Be sure to put youh name on youh papuhs,” he said, as we enthusiastically began to cut open the crayfish. I had studied the crayfish’s anatomy extensively and I was ready for this. As I worked, Mr. Miller wandered from desk to desk, mumbling things like, “Good, good,” as he nodded, or he shook his head, frowned, and mumbled, “Mmm, mmm, mmm.” I knew I was going to get a nod and a “good, good.” As he finally reached my desk, he glanced at it briefly, raised his eyebrows, and said, “Huh.” Huh? The next day, grades were posted: 0 out of 200. How? What did I do wrong. I respectfully approached Mr. Miller at the end of class. “Did I get every one wrong or something?” He grinned. “Nope, you actually got them all right. But ye didn’t put youh name on youh papuh.” I was crushed, but I learned a valuable lesson. I passed his class with a “B”, the highest in my class.

Dr. Stuart McGehee — The greatest college history professor I have ever known. Dr. McGehee is one of the most loved and talked about professors at West Virginia State University. With an encyclopedic knowledge of history and a wit unmatched by any other history professor, McGehee’s class is guaranteed to get students back into history again. His primary form of teaching is lecture, but his contagious enthusiasm and excellent speaking skills make it easy to forget you have sat through an hour lecture on the Louisiana Purchase. But don’t let his teaching fool you. McGehee is also a very serious scholar who expects the same from his students. Tardiness is inexcusable. Attendance is mandatory. And his tests? Mostly short answer and essay questions. But my love for history was rekindled during Dr. McGehee’s class.

Dr. Juris Lidaka — By far the funniest and most intelligent professor I have ever had, Dr. Lidaka is a true scholar, with thick-lens glasses and a shiny bald head. He spends his weekends in a library, translating ancient languages and studying various topics related to English history and linguistics. I had never even heard the word “linguist” before I met Dr. Lidaka. I took three classes from Dr. Lidaka and they all began the same. He warned us about his exams, stating that no one would receive an “A” and most of us would not even pass. Then, he proceeded to point out his vision problem, a lazy eye that could be distracting if you were not careful. “Sometimes, you’ll think I’m looking at you, but I’m actually looking over there. And sometimes, you’ll think I’m looking over there, but I am in fact looking at you.” He had the most atrocious hand writing I have seen from any professor, and he addressed this, as well. “If you ask me to translate my handwriting, I will begin to speak to you in an obscure foreign language of my choice, because while my handwriting is messy, it is written in English.” This is also the same professor who, during a discussion about the Venerable Beade, warned us not to refer to him as “Venereal Disease”. While Lidaka’s tests were really difficult and required time in the library, his classes really motivated us to be scholars ourselves.

So that’s it. I’m sorry it’s such a long list. I actually have about three more professors I could write about. There’s just something quirky and eccentric about a the best college professors that makes them so legendary. Thanks for bearing with me.

Once again, I get the chance to prove my courage by dancing on a stage in front of several hundred people, all for the sake of having fun.  This time… I get to do it Footloose style.

Okay, I see the guys raising their eyebrows, but admit it.  You know you spent a good chunk of your young life, watching Swayze in Dirty Dancing, Travolta in Grease, and, yes, Bacon in Footloose, wishing you could be just like them, because the ladies were loving every dance move.  That’s not why I’m doing it, of course… I’m just shooting down any possible ridicule.  Like last year, I will love every second of it.

That explains the newly purchased Chucks.  I’m not gonna lie.  When I purchased them, I spent a few minutes dancing through Shoe Carnival.  My favorite moves were the shimmy from the Breakfast Club and a few proud leaps that mimicked Kevin Bacon in Footloose.  Okay… so I looked more like Andy Samberg in Hot Rod (”I need to go to my quiet place!”).

In other news, Barry Lane sent me an invite to join his Ning, Discover Writing.  I’m actually friends with some writers and teachers who are legends in the field right now.  I know that’s no big deal to those of you who could care less about writing or teaching, but it is a big deal to me.

Okay, folks, it’s time to sign off.  Night school beckons.  I just hope the kids are a little more mellow than they were last week.  More on that later.

Why can’t I have that same attitude with this blog?  I just realized I haven’t posted anything since September.  It’s not that I haven’t had time, or that I don’t have anything to write about (quite the opposite, actually).  It’s just… like that friend you meant to call, but every time you looked at the number, some mental block kicked in and you put it off until later… and later… and later.  I’ve never been able to explain that.  I love all of my friends and would jump at the opportunity to spend some time with any of them, but for some reason I neglect to call them.  And they must feel the same somehow because they don’t call me either.

Since September, I must have checked my blog several times a week, and I always glanced at the “Write” tab, and then logged off without doing anything.  Why?  Not sure.

Regardless, I’m back, visiting an old friend.  I bought a pair of hiking boots, looking forward to a beautiful summer, and a pair of Converse All Stars, looking forward to some 80s style dance moves this spring (long story).  I’ll do my best to post when I can, to keep from ignoring the “Write” tab, and hope to hear from some readers soon.

It will soon be time for some changes. And I am excited. I have a job interview at South Charleston Middle School tomorrow, which (if I get the job) will put me about ten minutes closer to home and inside one of the county’s most historical school buildings. South Charleston is a growing community that lies somewhere between big city and small town. I’ve heard some of the same complaints about SCMS as I did about Stonewall Jackson Middle: poor discipline, apathetic students, etc. If any of that is true, guess what? It doesn’t hurt my interest in the school; it improves it. I see situations like that as challenges, opportunities to grow as a teacher and, most of all, to help my students grow.

I stopped by WVSU today to pick up my textbooks for my two classes. As proof that I have grown up, I could not contain my enthusiasm and pulled the plastic off of the books while sitting in my car, grinning as I flipped through the pages. I remember just a little less than ten years ago, I hated school. I loved to read, but usually snubbed my nose at college textbooks (unless they were literature anthologies). Now, I am practically drooling at the opportunity to dive into a Geography text, especially one like this that has plenty of online resources and tons of useful information.

Unlike the army of students who brave the almost endless line to sell back their textbooks, I have always thought of the best college texts as those you could keep and use again. The bookshelf next to my teachers’ desk is filled with grammar texts, anthologies, writing manuals, and other variations. And, yes, I use them for my own resources and even in my lesson plans.

Which brings me to the second text I bought: Taking Sides: Clashing Views on Social Issues. The Taking Sides collection is a group of books that present a list of topics and then show works of writing and/or speeches from different people that discuss that topic. The greatest thing about it is that it is written in debate-style and presents two works of writing with each issue: one “for” and one “against”. The benefits of a textbook like this in the hands of a teacher are limitless. I’ve been looking for a great way to liven up persuasive writing. Looking at two different sides of an issue makes students feel a lot like Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof, weighing the pros and cons of both sides. Now that’s critical thinking at its best.

One of my writing/teaching mentors Gretchen Bernabei says in her book Reviving the Essay, “Many students seem to consider the act of changing their minds equivalent to an act of weakness, or concession, or defeat. This way of viewing thinking is not only immature, it’s also dangerous in a democracy where reasonable, informed voters make decisions for the nation” (12). This kind of book in the hands of a teacher could help students make informed decisions (even if it means changing their minds) as opposed to holding fast to conclusions that are based only on personal prejudices.

So, regardless of where I teach this year, it will definitely be a year of change, both with my attitude, my teaching, and my circumstances. The great thing is that all of these are things I can control.

I’ll close out with a few lines from Andy Andrews’ excellent novel about a down-on-his luck businessman who travels through time and meets important historic figures who all give him advice for personal success, The Traveler’s Gift: “Circumstances do not push or pull. They are daily lessons to be studied and gleaned for new knowledge and wisdom. Knowledge and wisdom that is applied will bring about a brighter tomorrow (155).”

Well said, Mr. Andrews.

Until later — “There’s no turning back now that you opened up to your mind.”

Yours truly bragging about Gretchen’s book, Reviving the Essay:

I’ve been readmitted into WVSU and I am taking two classes this fall towards a Social Studies certification: Geography and a Sociology class called “Social Problems.” I’m really excited about both classes, which is amazing. I remember hating Geography in 7th grade and trying my best not to learn anything at the time. I remember being shocked in high school when I finally realized that Egypt was in Africa.

That Geography teacher is one of the best I’ve ever known. Her name is Mrs. Downey and she still teaches the same subject at the same school. A month or so into my seventh grade year, my grades were already slipping towards failure in two of my major courses (I was just barely Cs in English and Science). She kept me after class one day and asked one of the most important questions I have ever been asked by a teacher: “What do you love?” I paused, and she continued. “You love to draw, right? You love art?” I nodded. “Tell you what, you bring at least three of your school grades up to Cs or better and I will buy you a hundred dollars worth of art supplies.” It was the first time any teacher had ever made a promise to me other than, “If you don’t sit down, I’m calling your mother.” The greatest thing is that I kept my end of the bargain and she kept hers.

I found a folder in my drawer yesterday that had a collection of report cards from elementary school. One of them was from the second nine weeks of fourth grade. In the teacher’s comments it says, “I would like to schedule a conference as soon as possible to discuss my concerns for Jason.” Other information shows that I had trouble working independently, working neatly, and listening attentively. This was an improvement over the first nine weeks when I also had trouble following directions and completing assigned work on time.

Third nine weeks wasn’t much of an improvement. Teacher comments: “Jason has not shown much growth in his behavior and study skills.” And yet again, I did not work independently or neatly, follow directions, or listen attentively.

It is important to note that my fourth grade teacher, Mr. Copley, was also one of my favorites, especially after looking back, because regardless of my faults (and there were many) he still cared about me, treated me with respect, and always tried to make me smile. My mom has a picture of Mr. Copley and I standing together, him squatting down a little so he can get his arm around my shoulders. Our smiles are big and honest.

As I said, it feels good to be writing again. I haven’t thought about Mr. Copley or Mrs. Downey for a while and here I am writing about them. I have a lot more to write about and will try to get it posted in the next day or so. I still need to write about my rekindled interest in WWII that was spawned by a recent marathon of Medal of Honor games, courtesy of my little brother.

Until later — “There’s no turning back now that you opened up to your mind.”

Boy was I wrong. I met one of the Harlem Globetrotters today and proved to my students that I can almost make a half court shot. He gave a very inspirational message that reinforced what I have been trying to teach many of them, that it’s not what you do for yourself that matters but what you do for others.

Then, with enthusiasm I hadn’t felt for some time, I talked to my students about our new board work idea in which we use the acronym JAMS to get started right at the beginning of class. This idea was met with a little resistance, worried I was suddenly becoming another strict teacher who would never let them speak (apparently a luxury they don’t often get in their classes). “I promise you,” I said, “that only the first five to ten minutes of class is going to change. Everything else will be as usual. You’ll get to write and share your writing with each other, as always.” They all seemed happy to oblige and I am looking forward to watching them rise to the expectations.

Night school went great, as well. I have encouraged them to start student accounts on edublogs and many of them have taken off on their own and already posted several entries. I am so proud of them that I could burst.

So now, here I sit with my proud cup of white tea (which my wife swears is better than green, more antioxidants or something) relaxed after a great day with my students, and I’m feeling like I am one of the luckiest people in the world.

Until later– “There’s no turning back now that you opened up to your mind.”

I worked at the theater all week, including Thanksgiving.  It’s really not as bad as it sounds because we get paid time-and-a-half for working holidays.  I had thought the Thanksgiving crowd would be unbelievable, but it was the day after that poured in a little over 1100 customers to watch movies.  It is one of the perks of working at a theater next to a Wal-Mart.  I also predict we will be crowded after Christmas, as well, for shoppers who are returning and bargain shopping.

I stayed after work Wednesday to see The Mist.  It was one of the best horror movies I have ever seen, true to Stephen King’s vision for all of his stories.  The most frightening aspect of the story was not the creatures that live in the mist, but the behaviors of the people who are trapped together in the supermarket.  The same thing that disturbed me about Lord of the Flies, the steady breaking down of civilization when placed in a situation that is chaotic and in which rules are nonexistent or questioned.  Director Frank Darabont has always done a good job adapting King’s books to screenplay and this is no exception.  He does create his own ending, however, one that sent shivers down my spine and sent angry moviegoers out the door.

I also spent some time with my grandmother and ate oyster dressing for the first time.  It sounds icky, but it was oh-so-good.

We have much to be thankful for every day of our lives.  I made a promise to myself to thank God every day, as many times as I can.  I also made a promise to say “Thank you,” to others, especially those who least expect it.

I hope all of you had the opportunity to thank someone last week, and most of all the chance to do something for that person to show your gratitude.

Happy late Thanksgiving.

Oh, and I also realized that I haven’t followed through on a few of my promises about pics of Aryanna and Bianca on their day out with daddy.  So enjoy:

Here are a few of my favorites:

“I think you should pick me because my favorite number is five.”

“We both did it, but he’s the only one who got in trouble and that makes me mad.”

“Here’s a question for ya?  Do you see the same sun set every evening or do you see a different sunset every evening?”

“I feel like I’m stuck in a balloon and all the air is being sucked out of it.”

Said about the movie Halloween:  “I loved it.  It was one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen.”

Aren’t those great?  I love the randomness of the first one, the sense of justice in the second, the optimistic outlook of the third, the profundity of the fourth, and the hilarious contradiction of the last.

I think I’ve found a new way to spice up my writing.  Barry Lane says, “Good dialogue reveals character” (Reviser’s Toolbox, pg. 110).  All of these little snippets say something about the person who spoke them, about their personality or their condition.

 I love this sort of in-depth character study.  I’m going to assign this to my students, ask them to listen to conversations and write down statements that really intrigue them or just make them laugh (I loved it.  It was one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen.)

Until later– “There’s no turning back now that you opened up to your mind.”

Wow!  That about covers it.  Barry is a hilarious, delightful writing teacher who may just be the breath of fresh air all teachers need.  He is funny and even encourages humor with students as an educational tool.  His new video series Hooked on Meaning is a treat for me and my students.  The DVD menu has a catchy tune and every time I play it, my students smile because they know it is “Barry Time.”  “Barry Time” equals “writing time” since his video series is filled with useful writing craft strategies and activities.  The greatest thing about Barry, though, is that he is very humble, an average guy who just loves to write and teach writing.  While watching the video, my students feel as if they know Barry personally, laughing at his jokes, occasionally making fun of his silly ways.  But that’s okay.  They’re watching and listening.  And best of all…  THE STRATEGIES WORK!

I had the pleasure of sharing lunch with Barry at Whitewater Grill in the Marriott Hotel.  In addition to being a great teacher, he knows how to build friendships, as well.  He talked little and listened often to everyone at the table, to the stories of teaching, family, and anything else we wished to share.

At the end of the workshop, he interviewed me and asked me to share one of my recent lessons with dead verbs.  He held the camera close to my face and again said very little as I rattled on about burying dead verbs in a hole outside my classroom window.  The video should be coming up on YouTube soon.  When I find it, I’ll post it here.  Barry also gave me a copy of The Essay Manifesto, an excellent book about reclaiming the student essay and avoiding formula, and Why We Must Run With Scissors, a great book on persuasive writing that he wrote with Gretchen Bernabei.

I also just checked my e-mail, and Gretchen Bernabei (one of my all-time heroes) just sent me a reply.  Seeing it made me cry.  I can’t express in words how lucky I have been lately to meet and read books from teachers who have revolutionized the way I teach writing.  Teaching is a joy again and it is mostly because of the CWVWP and all of the opportunities I have been given because of it.

Thank you again to Barbara, Carol, Sharon, and most of all to Paul for striking my match so many times and finally got it lit.

Until later… “There’s no turning back now that you opened up to your mind.”