Free-For-All Fridays

What’s Up With the Name of the Blog?

Admit it—some of you have been wondering about “crossing the helix” for a while.

The name originally goes back to the series of novels I was working on when I started the blog. It ended up being a trilogy—the first three novels I ever wrote. If you read those stories (and a few of you have), the name makes sense.

However, that’s not the story I’m debuting with. I have hope that someday I’ll get them out there (after some re-tinkering—see Wednesday’s post). At this moment, though, it doesn’t appear to have much to do with anything.

I’ve kept the name anyway. Here’s why.

For one thing, sentimental value. Those first three novels got me on this road to being an author. I went from “Hey, I wonder if I can write a book” with the first one, to “You know, I think I really have a shot at this” by the last one.

More importantly, I think it can still have some meaning, if very abstractly. It’s all about a journey (“crossing”).

A helix is generally a spiral, and more specifically a three-dimensional one. Think of the thread of a screw. To travel on such a path, you would typically walk along it like a spiral staircase. You’re moving upward, but not in the most direct way. It’s a little meandering, but it’ll get you there.

And once in a while, you make a leap. You “cross the helix” to a higher point by a shorter route. I made some leaps this year. I signed with an agent. She sold my book.

There’s still a lot of “helix” left to travel.

So, for now, the blog name will stay.

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A Teen Type Missing in YA Lit (Thank Goodness!)

Young adult novels (contemporary and otherwise) manage to fit a lot of different types of teenagers. Artsy types. Bookish types. Sporty types. Loner types. Popular types. Aggressive types. Passive types. Sometimes characters who are more than one at the same time.

I always appreciate the variety. I like finding novels with characters similar to students who don’t seem to be represented so much in pop culture. A particular type stood out to me this week, though, and I realized I don’t recall ever reading a character that quite matched up with it.

The whiners.

And please, my fellow YA authors, don’t feel any need to change that.

I’m not talking about teens who get whiny now and then. That happens, both in fiction and in life. Part and parcel of being not-quite-kid, not-quite-adult. No, I’m talking about teens who do nothing. But. Complain.

All. Day. Long.

I can barely take it for an hour at a time with those students. If I had to read it in a book, that book would get put down and never picked up again.

And from a math teacher standpoint, let me just say that complaining that it’s hard and you don’t get it before I’ve even started explaining anything isn’t conducive to learning. It doesn’t endear the student to their more open-minded classmates, either.

If you know someone like this in real life, please find a way to rehabilitate them. When you find a successful method for doing so, drop me a line.

I could use the help.

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Laser-Guided Ears and Conquering Copiers

When we think of talents, we often think of the obvious. Someone’s good at drawing or writing or singing or playing an instrument. The arts come up a lot. Or they’re an amazing runner, swimmer, or basketball player. Sports come up a lot, too.

I have some of those. I imagine many of you reading this post do as well. But I have other talents that are much more rarely acknowledged. My secret superpowers.

In my years of working in schools, I’ve yet to meet a copy-machine paper jam I couldn’t unravel. And in a classroom with nearly forty teenagers, I can hear a student use an inappropriate word from twenty feet.

I know, I should get Lynn Phillips to draw me as a superhero, right?

Okay, maybe not so much.

My paper-jam and other tech-related powers mostly come down to an ability to read directions. Or in the case of copy machines, the ability to decipher cryptic diagrams that think they’re showing you what to do under the ridiculous assumption you can tell which portion of the machine is represented in the drawing.

I really doubt my hearing is all that good. In fact, given the volume I’ve been known to set the music in my car to, I’m pretty sure there’s at least a little damage in my cochlea. It’s just often the kids whose voices carry best (and who have a natural tendency to loudness) who go blurting things they shouldn’t.

But the kids sure seem to think it’s amazing that I can hear them. And the other teachers definitely don’t mind when some of us know what to do with the new machine. So I’ll bask in it a little longer.

Do you have any uncelebrated “superpowers”? Go on and brag and a little.

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No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

No, I don’t really believe that.

There are times, though—like this week—when it feels like there’s some truth to it.

Earlier this week, a woman was shot and killed, allegedly by her adopted teenage son. I knew this woman because she was also the foster mom of a boy I taught for several years, who’s now attending college.

I didn’t know this woman well. I saw her and her husband and talked to them maybe half a dozen times during the years I taught that boy. They made a strong impression, though. Loving people with some cowboy flavor who opened their home to several boys, such as my student.

They even kept him on until he graduated from high school, by which time he was nineteen years old. I’m pretty sure they didn’t have to. But they did.

This woman wasn’t perfect, I’m sure. Who is? But I often marveled at my student’s character, despite some hard circumstances throughout his life. His work ethic, and his positive outlook. If you looked at his history on paper, you probably wouldn’t expect him to be the kind of person he is.

Much of the credit goes to the young man himself, but I think he’d agree his foster parents’ influence played a role. And I know he’s heartbroken by what happened this week.

Maybe it’s true that no good deed goes unpunished. If it is, maybe it doesn’t matter.

We’ll keep doing them anyway.

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Hating on Hate

It’s really frustrating to feel like I’m being blasted on one front and trying to keep students from blasting away on the other.

Election season seems to put people in one of two camps—the excited camp, and the “Is it over yet?” camp. (I imagine a lot of people flip-flop between the two.) I definitely fell in the latter this time.

My school is in an area that leans heavily to one side of the political spectrum. Then there’s the too-typical teenage response to the “different”—tell them they’re wrong or stupid, or just make fun of them. (I went on a bit about that not long ago.)

Some kids were able to reasonably say why they supported one candidate over another. That was always great to see. But others were more, “This one’s evil, that one’s stupid, you’re an idiot for supporting him.” So I did the usual putting out of fires, making it clear that people are allowed their opinions, and you don’t attack them for it.

At the same time, I found myself feeling (indirectly) attacked, particularly in my online life. Vocally supporting your candidate? That’s cool. Describing how you don’t agree with the other guy? Also cool.

But throughout and after the election, lines were crossed here and there. Lines between “this is what I believe” and “anyone who believes differently is an idiot and should jump off a cliff.” Not usually in so many words (although some came close), but often with a clear undertone.

One statement from the Walls of Facebook, by a so-called “Friend”:

“Who would want to make a Mormon the most powerful man in the world?”

Let’s imagine we replace the word “Mormon” with one of the following:

Atheist.

Jewish.

Muslim.

Catholic.

Buddhist.

Gay.

Straight.

Vegan.

Should I let my students get away with saying any of those things? Yet when adults are the ones spreading such hate throughout social media, is it any wonder kids don’t see a problem with doing the same?

By the end of election night, I felt beaten down, torn up, and truly sad. Not because of who won or who lost, but because of the hate I felt … even from some (not all) of those who were spouting “Let’s all work together (by being more like me)” hours later.

I know these attitudes aren’t true of all, or even most, on either side. But there are enough of them to really get me down sometimes.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to think of new ways to convince a certain fifteen-year-old that calling girls sluts is never, ever okay.

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I Need a New Category for Myself

I’m not particularly girly. While I wear makeup and the occasional skirt and high heels, I’ve never had a manicure. I don’t get excited over things like shopping sprees and spa getaways. I’m not crafty, and I don’t knit. If people are coming over (I can’t say I’m having a party, because I can’t think of the last time that happened), the last thing that occurs to me is decorating or making a cute centerpiece.

But I’m not a tomboy, either. I played soccer when I was a kid, and I don’t mind watching football games with my mom now and then. Like I said, though, skirts and heels and makeup aren’t foreign to me. I never had that comfortable buddy-buddy relationship with guys that goes along with the tomboy stereotype.

Yes, I just answered my own question. These ideas of “girly” and “tomboy” that I’m working off of are stereotypes. That doesn’t change the fact that I see/meet people who seem to fit in with one or the other, and I don’t quite identify.

What do I identify with? Seems to depend on what group I’m with at the time.

When I’m hanging out with authors, I often feel like the math-geek. At least, that’s the role I seem to play. And that definitely plays into my author side, with the whole science fiction angle and everything.

When I’m with other math teachers, I feel like the weirdo who actually knows how to spell and talk about things like “tightening prose” and whatnot. (Doesn’t mean there aren’t others who know, too … but they tend to keep it to themselves.)

Am I normal in this? Is that what we do? Feel like the trait that most defines us is the one least like those around us at that moment?

What does all this rumination imply for the characters I write? Hopefully that even when a character has some traits that fall solidly within a stereotype, they also have other layers adding nuance and complexity.

That’s what people are, right? Complicated and hard to categorize.

In other words … I’m normal and can stop worrying now.

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