teens

Identity Crisis

Like most writers (aspiring as well as published), I have a day job. I don’t know how many other writers love their day jobs, but I do. I get to hang out with very cool kids, talk about random things, and get them to think differently about mathematics. And I have a built-in test audience for my writing. What’s not to love? (Uh, paperwork? School politics? Never mind.)

At the same time, this occasionally leads me into a minor identity crisis. No one really expects a math teacher to be a writer … or at least not to be any good at it. That’s fine, I like turning norms on their heads. But while they do overlap, there are parts of me that are distinctly either math-teacher or YA-writer.

Then the kicker—time allocation. Is the way I taught combinations and permutations last year good enough, or should I spend a weekend revamping the lesson? Revamping means giving up writing/editing time. Where are those 28-hour days we’ve all been wishing for? No, I won’t kid myself. If days got longer, I’d still find ways to overfill them.

I think I’ve pinned down part of the reason I feel guilty when I settle for “good enough” on lessons. The math-teacher front is where I know I have talent. I’m not perfect, I could definitely improve, but I have solid evidence that I’m pretty darn good at it. With writing, I have some supporters, cheerleading in my corner, and I do trust their opinion. So far, though, I have to take it on faith that they’re right.

Of course, the silver lining is in sight. My math-teacher side has mandated down-time known as summer vacation. As I did last year, this will be a time when I let Writer-R.C. dominate. Maybe crank out a short story or two, edit the new ms, dive back into the querying trenches … and hopefully come that much closer to convincing myself the time is worth it.

Speak up:

Speaking Up

When you’re part of the majority, you don’t generally think about your culture until you find yourself in a situation where you’re surrounded by someone else’s.  I imagine most of the people reading this listen to music and watch TV with the sound turned up—that is, we’re hearing.

Did you ever think of using that word to describe yourself?  Maybe not, unless you happen to be a hearing person with connections to the Deaf world.

Yes, I capitalized it.  That wasn’t a mistake.

There are a lot of differences between Deaf culture and the hearing majority, probably enough for another blog post or two sometime.  A central feature is sign language.  That doesn’t mean there aren’t people within the community who can and do speak.  This can be a sticky issue, though—again, plenty I could ramble on about.

My point right now is that there are individuals who feel caught in the middle, who enjoy being part of the Deaf community, but also feel a connection to the hearing world.  They listen to music and express themselves most comfortably in spoken English.  This doesn’t always go over well with others.

Tomorrow, there’s a public “speaking” competition at school.  Entrants have the choice of signing or speaking.  This year, only a few students have entered … but they’ve all chosen to speak, and we’ll have an interpreter present.  I’m interested to see the kinds of reactions they get.  Will everyone focus on the content of the messages and whether they were effective in getting their points across?  Will some complain that they should have signed, even though doing so would limit the eloquence of these particular students?

I’m proud of them for having the guts to get up in front of their peers and make a formal presentation—whether in speech or sign, it’s not easy.  If anyone gives them a hard time, it might be my turn to speak up.

Speak up:

Sleep-Deprivation of Minors

I was pondering what gives a writer the feeling of, “Hey, I’m doing all right.”  You could make a big-time best-seller list.  You could get a rave review in a major publication, or a bunch of 5-star reviews on Amazon.  Can’t say I’ve experienced any of those (yet), but still, I’ve thought about it.

My favorite?  Knowing I’m contributing to the sleep-deprivation of minors.

You know that feeling–when you start reading a book and before you know it, it’s three in the morning … then four … then the sun’s coming up.

Well, with a day job and grown-up responsibilities, I can’t indulge in that very often anymore.  Maybe on weekends.  And professionally, I can’t recommend any teenagers do so on a school night.

Still, finding out a 15-year-old started reading my story and couldn’t put it down until six in the morning (during Thanksgiving break, boss!) kind of made my day.

Another one on the self-affirmation list: Having teenagers finish reading it and immediately ask, “Where’s the next one?”

That’s when I think to myself, “It worked.”

Speak up:

Learning from Fiction

There are lots of ways we learn through the written word.  Textbooks are the most obvious, though not always very effective in and of themselves.  Nonfiction books can be a great way to learn about almost anything you can imagine–cultures, history, technology, or just the lives of interesting people.

We can learn through novels as well.  Hard-working authors who do their research can infuse factual tidbits seamlessly into the plot, and we can learn through a character’s choices and their evolution through the story.

It recently occurred to me that there’s a key difference between the nonfiction and fiction approaches to learning, though.  Nonfiction generally sets out to teach–that’s the whole point, to be informative.  In fiction done right–in my opinion–it’s up to the reader to learn, and what they take from the story can vary.  The parallels they draw will depend on their own worldview and experiences, and that’s what makes it so fun–that feeling of finding your own meaning.

What happens, however, when someone sets out to write a novel with the nonfiction writer’s intention of teaching in mind?  Does it still work?  I’m not sure.  I haven’t tried it myself.  Do you get a “moral of the story” or after-school special feel as a result?  If so, that could be a problem.  I can’t speak for all teenagers, but my students are master cynics.  If they sense a story’s been contrived to teach them something, brace for imminent eye-rolling.

Does it come down to ensuring Story trumps Message?  Is it more a matter of not talking down to your audience?  Or are those two related?  Something to think about as I dig through the latest YA works to find books to recommend to those charming cynics.

Speak up:

Audience ID

Know your audience.  Sounds simple enough.  It occurs to me that there are two types of audiences, though—the general audience that’s likely to enjoy the book, and the narrower audience that’s likely to think the book is the best ever.

At its broadest, my general audience is teenagers.  Throw in adults who like smart YA work, too, and there you go.  To get a little more specific, I think my novel appeals especially to girls who like math or science, and/or have a bit of tomboy in them.

While at Best Buy with my sister yesterday, I found a succinct description of the sub-population who would most enjoy my work:

Speak up:

English Class #1: Required Reading

A couple days ago I was eavesdropping on the weekly YALitChat on Twitter.  It’s too bad I was too busy to pick up more than just the comments from people I already follow, since the topic was how teachers influence what teens read.  Some statements about required reading lists, curriculum, etc. caught my attention.

I thought back to my own experiences as a student.  Honestly, I don’t remember most of what I was required to read back then.  I remember reading some Shakespeare (Romeo and Juliet and The Merchant of Venice) and A Tale of Two Cities in ninth grade.  My teacher that year was smart enough to discuss the themes in a modern context so the books weren’t just old and dusty to us.  (There was a particularly heated discussion when he insisted that arranged marriages were the only intelligent way to do things.)

The rest of high school, though?  I remember packets of short stories, but I don’t remember titles, authors, or the stories themselves.  There were probably worksheets involved.

You know what else I don’t remember?  The popular books for teens at the time.  I don’t think I read them … too stuck in sci-fi land back then.  Can anyone help me out?  What was hot in YA back in the mid- to late-90s?  Was there YA as such?  I never considered myself a “normal” teenager, so I have no idea what was considered “normal” to read.

Is it the same story now?  Nothing but classics, no current works?  From the transcript of the chat, it seems to vary widely.  I can only talk about what I know firsthand, at my current school.

We’re lucky for a few reasons.  Our classes are tiny (I think eight students is the biggest), so if teachers want to order copies of a current book, it’s not a financial hardship.  This year we started giving students two Language Arts classes – one for reading and one for writing.  This means a lot more time for covering more novels.  I know one of my colleagues tends to alternate – a book from the curriculum list, then one the students choose.

How do I influence my students’ reading, especially as a math teacher?  We have twenty minutes of required silent reading time after lunch every day.  For that, I’m in the “I don’t care what they read as long as they read something” camp, particularly because I have struggling readers that period.  I happily help one girl understand the articles in fashion magazines and explain new words to a boy who reads online graphic novels.

Other than that, I keep a shelf of loaner YA books (which no one seems to expect from the MATH teacher).  They see me reading them, and it’s fun to discuss what they did and didn’t like after they finish each book.  The kids like series, so I’ve got Uglies, Hunger Games, Darkest Powers, and Mortal Instruments sitting up there.

And of course, students keep telling me to get mine published and add it to the collection.

I’m working on it. 🙂

Speak up: