Month: November 2013

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The Dumbing Down of Language

127192508_640When I first began teaching ninth grade English I remember thinking about the language I was going to use and whether or not the students would understand the way I normally convey language. And the thought process was all tied up and twisted together with the zone of proximal development I had learned in my education program in school, the process of learning that forces kids to stretch beyond their normal reach but not so far that they get frustrated. It also provides for some scaffolding to help kids reach that level instead of letting them flounder out there. But I think for ease’s sake, too many teachers, nay, too many parents, participate instead in the dumbing down of language.

My mother used language that I didn’t understand all the time when I was growing up, but she also encouraged us to ask questions, and the same was true when reading books. One of the biggest issues most kids have when it comes to tackling large words when reading is that they want everything given to them. As a parent it’s hard to watch your children struggle with doing anything, much less trying to tackle words that are a bit too big for them, but one of the worse things you can do is to make it too easy for them. They won’t learn the glory of perseverance and the satisfaction of achievement, and they will take too much for granted. My mother believed in that philosophy, making sure she never gave me or my sister those words, providing us with support with letter sounds and blends, but never handing it over pre-packaged. And I appreciate her for that. Continue reading “The Dumbing Down of Language”

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Day Twenty-Five

So, I did it. Five days early and I pushed past the 50,000 word mark on my novel. 50,000 words in 25 days, which gives me a win for NaNoWriMo, but more importantly it gives me the satisfaction of doing what I set out to do. Of course it’s about writing a complete novel as … Continue reading Day Twenty-Five

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What You Don’t Know…

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Did you know I went to the same high school as Jazzy Jeff?

Have you seen this thing going around Facebook lately where someone gives you a number and you post things most people probably don’t know about you? It makes me think about elementary school, when you had a secret you didn’t want anyone to know, and then one kid found out and broadcasted it throughout the entire school, so you were humiliated in front of everyone. From then on you worked harder to keep whatever other secrets you had actually secret. You would have been mortified if anyone found out those other skeletons in your closet. And now here we are telling all of our 685 Facebook friends those same tidbits of information under the guise of being “cool enough” about those things for them to not matter anymore. But there is such a thing as oversharing, and people tend to do that when given their number in this FB game. My number was 8…

1. I overthink most things.

When faced with two possibilities I spend way too long focusing on one, then the other, and back again. If someone asks me to decide on a restaurant for us to eat lunch, and they don’t hurry me along, I will still be deciding at 7 o’clock in the evening  if given the chance. Yet, I cultivate the appearance of nonchalance for the world to see, going with a quick choice and then second-guessing myself forever. Amazingly enough, though, that overthinking doesn’t bleed over into making choices for my fantasy football team. Hmmm.

2. I wet the bed until I was 13.

This is classic oversharing, because absolutely no one needed to know when I stopped wetting the bed, except that I’m proud of it actually stopping at some point. I honestly thought it would go on forever. So, when I’m lamenting the fact that my youngest child is not yet potty-trained, I remember being 13 and wetting the bed, and I’m good with it. Continue reading “What You Don’t Know…”

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@ 30th Street Station

Amtrak30thStreetStationInterior2007An old homeless man is screaming at me. He is as drunk as the day is long, and I wonder where he procured alcohol from. Did someone hand over some of their hard earned money knowing what he would do with it? Is it possible he was holding up one of those “Will Work For Food” signs that seemed so popular in the ’90s and suckered in some bystanders, thinking he would actually work for them or that he actually wanted food? And he’s yelling at me in some language I am not familiar with as I stand in line to get tickets for the next train to New Jersey. I don’t even want to go to New Jersey, the land of a thousand sewers and of the Holland Tunnel, or at least a part of that illustrious tunnel. I would really rather go home and go to sleep but I know she’s waiting for me in Secaucus, in the Radisson Hotel where they put mints on the pillow and the keys are really cards.

He finally moves on after I pay him no mind, that homeless man who is drunk on cheap wine, replaced by a woman who had been hidden by his bulk. She is his opposite, sporting a stylish tweed jacket with jewels for buttons and smelling of jasmine with a hint of honeysuckle. I only know those scents because my soap is made of the self-same, and I wonder if somehow the two of us, strangers until this moment, share the same soap. I also wonder what else we possibly share, and I am reminded that this is a small world after all, whether or not we’re on that creepy ride made so popular in the Magic Kingdom. We are six degrees separated from each other, but we probably share at least one Facebook friend. I don’t talk to her, though, as the sounds of the old man’s screams still echo in my ear.

And she’s wearing white pants, even though it’s after Labor Day, but they still suit her, fitting tightly to her body. I don’t stare too long, though, because I know she will notice. She seems like one of those women who notice those things, not like the millions who are oblivious to leering guys. Continue reading “@ 30th Street Station”

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Day Twenty-One

the-number-21-profile21 is blackjack. 21 is the legal age to drink, and to gamble. 21 is the name of a best-selling Adele record. It is an extra chromosome in those with Down syndrome. That’s what I think when I consider 21. Oh, and it’s also the title of a cool movie about gambling, but its importance to me right now is that today is the 21st day of NaNoWriMo, the novel writing month when writers everywhere try and blaze through 50,000 words in 30 days. Here are my stats through 2:46 on the 21st day of NaNo…

Words written today: 1,044
Average words per day: 2,037
Target words per day: 2,000
Total overall words: 42,787

My story has evolved in several sections since I last blogged about it on day 15, and my two protagonists are several steps closer to meeting. There have been two major reveals since last we spoke as well, one of which is the turning point of the story. Now the characters are hurtling on a collision course of consequences for actions that took place long before the novel began. Here is an excerpt:

“The cloisters were long hallways that branched off into open spaces that looked to be door openings but that had no doors hanging within them to separate them from the hallway itself. The entire place was as drafty as a castle, which is what it most closely resembled in looks and in atmosphere. Continue reading “Day Twenty-One”