The first episode of my podel (podcasted novel) premieres tomorrow on Spotify at 6:00 pm. Hope you can tune in! Search for CAMPUS: A Novel That Wants to Be a Musical but Is Now a Podel by Katie Winkler
I am blessed with special people in my life and one of those people is my nephew Timothy. He is in school studying media arts and has started a blog here on WordPress called the Mugwump Diaries. You can check it out here.
Timothy and I love reading and reviewing books, and for a while now, I have enjoyed reading his reviews on Goodreads, so I am excited that he has started a book review blog. Plus, he has inspired me to get back to my own book reviews.
This Christmas, I received several books that I am looking forward to reading and two Christmas themed books that I just haven’t gotten around to until this year. It just didn’t seem right to read them outside of the Christmas season.
I will write about those last two next post but today, I just want to talk about my gift books and what they mean to me.
Where to begin? Why not at the top? I can’t wait to read In Praise of Difficult Women by Karen Karbo, given to me by a dear friend and colleague who knows that I take it as an ultimate compliment that she finds me difficult. In the introduction, Karbo says, “I love these women because they encourage me to own my true nature. They teach me that it’s perfectly okay not to go along to get along. They show by example that we shouldn’t shy away from stating our opinions. Their lives were and are imperfect. They suffered. They made mistakes. But they rarely betrayed their essential natures to keep the peace” (p.17).
Yeah, that’s what I need to read!
That same friend gave me the book immediately below that, Untamed by Glennon Doyle. I haven’t finished it yet as I was distracted by the Christmas books I was determined to read (before it was too late, ha!), but it is another one that gives voice to my feelings, these feelings I have of not being what people expect me to be, that I’m not an easy keeper, as we say in the South. Doyle speaks to women who don’t want to be defined by their roles in society, who don’t want to be defined at all. Difficult women. Troublemakers.
Women like me.
I’m getting back to reading Untamed today!
The book to the right, Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell is a gift from my husband and is proof of what a treasure he is. Out of all the books he could have chosen, he picked a historical novel giving life to Shakespeare’s son Hamnet, who died at eleven, during the Plague. A few years after the death of his son, Shakespeare wrote one of the greatest works of literature the world has ever known. Hamlet. Just like my friend, my husband knows me, knows that I would relish reading a beautiful book that will make me cry. He gets me, even though I’m difficult. And he loves me anyway.
To the left is another special book, Podcasting for Dummies, given to me by my dear daughter, who also advised my husband on what equipment to buy me to help me with my big podcasting challenge of 2021–my podel or povel or novcast or whatever you want to call it–this thing that I’m doing. Her gift book is special to me because it shows that she has faith in me and supports what her mother is doing, no matter how weird it is. And believe me, you will see, it is weird. But she gave me the book because she doesn’t care that her mother does do some strange things and doesn’t do or say all of the things mothers are supposed to do or say, except the most important thing, that is. She does say, “I love you.”
And my daughter loves me, too.
A gift book told me so.
I have written a crazy book called CAMPUS–A Novel That Wants To Be a Musical. Okay, so written might be a bit misleading. I have the first draft of a crazy book.
Here’s the thing–I teach English full-time and online at a community college during a global pandemic. This next semester, I will teach three accelerated composition classes (16-weeks of material in 8-weeks), two 16-week composition support classes (I have only taught them once before; they will again be synchronous online because of the pandemic), and one 16-week British literature course, maybe. I have very little time to do the necessary revision, editing, and, most time-consuming, marketing that it will require. Plus, I have no time to get together with my composer to write the music for the book. You read that correctly–this novel wants to be a musical, so music there will be–one way or another.
Here’s the other thing–I’m 60-years-old, and I’m a darn good writer, in my mind, but I’m not much of a business woman. I don’t know anything about marketing and don’t really trust people who do. I’m not sophisticated or wordly-wise. However, I’m not naive enough to think my book will be published traditionally, especially not with times as they are, and I’m not interested in self-publication, not in book form anyway.
So what’s a busy old teacher to do?
Since my specialty is 19th Century British literature, perhaps it is appropriate that I have decided, like Charles Dickens, George Eliot, and Wilkie Collins, to serialize my novel; however, my satirical novel in parts will have a 21st Century twist. It will be a podcast….
Maybe it will be a blog or a vlog or something else entirely. I hope it will eventually be housed within a parody website. Oh, I have ideas, but not much of anything solid yet. All I know is that cutting the project into small bits, like I suggest to my students all the time, will allow me to pour my heart into teaching like I always do, but also make it possible for me to work on revising and editing the novel a little at a time and not wait too long to share it with people. Wait. Will anybody want to read it?
I’m the only one who needs to because within this world that I am going to create, no one gets to tell me what it looks or smells like, what the people in it need to be or think or feel. No one can criticize, ostracize, or minimalize me on this campus.
What happens there will be completely of my making, for good or ill.
Merry Christmas to me!
Note: If you would like to follow me on my little adventure, I hope to air the first chapter of CAMPUS on Sunday, January 10. More details to follow after Christmas.
Starting this new project does not mean that I have abandoned Teach. Write. If you are interested in submitting something, you can read submission guidelines here. The deadline for the Spring/Summer 2021 edition is March 1, 2021.
I am grateful.
For finding my passion early. I have wanted to be a teacher for as long as I can remember. As a child I would use small books to make desks for my stuffed animals and cut out tiny sheets of paper for them to complete their assignments. I would stand before them and teach them, and they always listened, never looked bored. For that
I am grateful.
For teacher-parents. Both of my parents were educators with long careers in private and public education. They brought their passion for teaching to raising their children. We traveled widely all our lives, and my parents would find teachable moments every chance they had. Dad would stop at most historical markers he saw and read them to us. He would tell us more about the area if he knew anything. Once, when we took a long trip across the country, every time we drove across a state line, Mom would read from a big book of states that she purchased just for the trip. When I attended the school where Dad was principal, I remember how he arranged for the older students to attend special opera and light opera performances. Mom bought little paperback art books for us. There was a whole set with artists from all different eras represented. I still have a few of these books over 50 years later.
Oh, so much more I remember, but I will just say,
I am grateful.
For a marvelous education. I attended public and private schools and universities in different areas of the country. Dad was in the military for much of my childhood, and we moved frequently after he left, so I went to school in Alabama, Georgia, Maryland, Illinois, Oklahoma, and North Carolina. The wide variety of educational experiences taught me adaptability and widened my perspectives. At every school, I can remember at least one teacher, and usually many more, who was exceptional, who had a passion for teaching. Mrs. McBride, Mrs. Lewis, Mr. Fisher, Mr. Hill, Mrs. Riskind, Dr. Walker, Dr. Heit, and his siblings Brunhilda and Karl, Dr. Epperson, with his deep, comforting voice, and dear Mrs. Hovelman, who taught humanities and expository writing and said to a shy high school senior who was going to register for study hall her last semester, “How about being my assistant for the semester?” For all of these marvelous teachers…
I am grateful.
For a long career doing what I love. I began my teaching career formally in 1983, but my education provided me so many wonderful teaching opportunities. While studying in Tulsa, Oklahoma during the oil boom, I tutored students in the writing center in undergraduate school and through that job was hired to teach English to two elderly Iranian ladies who only spoke Persian. A Cambodian couple woh served at the Chinese restaurant where I worked hired me to tutor them in English when they found out I was studying to be an English teacher.
Upon graduation, I was hired to teach English and German at a private Christian school in Aliquippa, PA. I loved much of my teaching there and had many wonderful experiences, the best was meeting and falling in love with the man I have been married to for almost 32 years, but I didn’t make enough money on a private school teacher’s salary to afford to live, so I headed back home to attend Auburn University.
While working on my second degree in English Education at Auburn, I did my student teaching at the same high school where my mother was a librarian and taught under the tutelage of another great teacher, Mrs. Claire Fields. It was rough being a student teacher, but it did not deter me from wanting to teach.
After graduating from Auburn, I taught English and German for Floyd County Schools in Rome, Georgia, then married and moved to Canton, Ohio. Even though I didn’t formally teach in Ohio, I got a position as a job trainer for Goodwill Industries and continued to use my teaching skills helping differently-abled people develop soft skills and learn various trades.
When we moved to North Carolina, and I couldn’t get a teaching position right away, I went back to school, receiving a graduate assistantship at Western Carolina University. I tutored in the writing center for the first semester and received the Kim L. Brown Award for Excellence in Tutoring. For the following two semesters, I taught freshmen English. My last semester, I received the Theodore L. Huguelet Award for Outstanding Graduate Assistant, which was an honor made even more special because Dr. Huguelet, who taught Milton, had been one of my favorite professors. I graduated summa cum laude and was inducted into the teaching honor society of Phi Kappa Phi. For one year following graduation, I taught tenth-grade English at a local high school. I won’t lie. That was a difficult year. Nevertheless, for all of my early teaching career and higher education
I am grateful.
For my current position. Since 1995, I have taught English at a community college south of Asheville in Western North Carolina. For six years I was an adjunct, which was perfect as I had plenty of time to be with my daughter while she was little but not have a big gap in my career. My experience teaching most English courses offered at my college and receiving positive student evaluations led to me being offered the full-time position that I continue to enjoy. For this
I am grateful.
For all the College’s employees and stakeholders. One thing that the pandemic has made abundantly clear is that everyone who works at a college is in some sense an educator. I am thankful to have the support of so many who truly care about the work they do. We don’t always agree, but we must remember that we all have different work to do, and that it is all important. We can disagree and still work together for the good of our students.
I am grateful.
For our students. Expressing my gratitude to them exceeds the time I have this Thanksgiving morning. My daughter is on her way to help us prepare our Thanksgiving Feast, and my little family deserves some gratitude heaped on them this day. Because for them, for my life as teacher, daughter, wife, mother,
I am eternally grateful.
Too much to do to blog much, essays in one class and essay exams in another. All autograded assignments and integrated software doesn’t do the real work of teaching composition–them writing, me assessing it, and communicating back to them where they can improve next time. That’s pretty much it.
And, by golly, it works. It’s difficult, painstaking work for them and me, but it works.
Just wanted to share some happy news before I get back to it. After almost two years of not publishing anything (I haven’t had much time to market my writing), I found out yesterday that I published a little flash piece with a relatively new online writing site, The Secret Attic: Where Writers Write.
A little background for the story. My sister Ronda died of cancer in 2011. For years she owned several beautiful Arabian horses and kept them on my grandmother’s property in rural Alabama, not too far from Auburn University. We grew up riding horses together. I miss her terribly, and this story is for her:
My work has kept me so busy that it took me a while to finish the latest choice for the Western Carolina University Alumni Book Club that I joined this summer.
The book is Just Mercy, written by the founder and executive director of the Equal Justice Initiative in Montgomery, Alabama that has been instrumental in helping to overturn many wrongful convictions and reduce the harsh sentences of poor and disabled people in Alabama and around the country.
The end of book discussion included the following provocative prompt: “A critical theme throughout Stevenson’s book is that the fight for fair and equal treatment of all people under the law is a long and ongoing struggle. Setbacks are common and must be overcome, and even in the aftermath of great victories, there is still more progress to be made. For example, the Supreme Court originally upheld the use of the death penalty on convicted minors, but this was later successfully overturned in 2005; still, the fight for fair and humane treatment of minors in the criminal justice system continues. How does this understanding and approach lead to more effective organization and activism on behalf of marginalized people?”
Here is my response: Stevenson touches on the most powerful approach to effective activism for the sake of poor and disabled people in Chapter Fifteen, titled “Broken.” Stevenson recognizes his extreme brokenness after trying to comfort one of his clients on the night of his execution. On the verge of giving up in the face of overwhelming injustices, the author admits to himself that he is as broken as those he is trying to save, but remembering his own past failures, he finds the strength to go on.
He says, “You can’t effectively fight abusive power, poverty, inequality, illness, oppression, or injustice and not be broken by it. We are all broken by something. We have all hurt someone and have been hurt. We all share the condition of brokenness even if our brokenness is not equivalent.”
There is such humility in recognizing that you are weak and will fail. We are too seldom willing to be humbled by what we cannot do and too often inflated by superficial accomplishments, even when “doing good.” We must ask ourselves if our altruism is born of deep empathy or shallow pity. I must ask myself if I am willing to continue fighting for liberty and justice, even in the face of defeat after defeat, even if I am never recognized for my efforts, or in some cases ridiculed for them. I hope I am, but I don’t know. Time will tell. I do know, however, that this book has inspired me to try.
Okay, I barely made it, and I can’t complain about my students who wait until the last minute to turn in their work, can I?
But I did make my publication date, at least on the east coast of the US anyway.
I am always amazed at how the journal comes together, how writers seemed to be pulled in similar, yet distinct directions every time. I love it!
And I think you will too.
The last book I finished before the craziness of teaching all online, synchronous and asynchronous, was a book my brother gave to me a while back, and I finally pushed through the stack to get to it.
I’m glad I did.
No one Is Coming to Save Us by Stephanie Powell Watts is marketed to be a retelling of The Great Gatsby, and there are certainly echoes of Fitzgerald’s iconic novel here. The twists, however, make the novel rise above a simple re-telling. Jade Chang in her New York Times review describes the novel as a “skillful riff on ‘The Great Gatsby,’ which revolves around a contemporary black family in a declining North Carolina town,” an apt description of the novel.
Jay Gatsby is recast as JJ Ferguson, a young man who has left Pinewood, a small town in the Piedmont, to seek the American Dream. He returns a wealthy man, and begins to court Ava, our Daisy, who is now married to a weak man who is unfaithful to her.
Yes, some of the same themes are there, but the novel reveals the importance of setting in a novel. This is not a New York story. It is not one Nick Carraway could have told. It is not a story that any one person can tell, so we discover the hidden truths from multiple points of view, all circling around the most unlikely of Nick-type characters, Ava’s mother Sylvia, who is rooted in the soil of her Southern home.
Perhaps because I am about the same age as Sylvia, her perspective resonates the most with me. Her transformation is quiet and not earth-shattering– acceptance of herself, her past, and her place in life. Forgiveness. During the extraordinary days that have been the Summer of 2020, I have found myself learning these things, too.
And feeling good about it.
Here is a passage that captures Sylvia’s self-deprecating mood at the beginning of the novel, one of the passages that drew me into this amazing woman’s story:
“None of that hoping and believing girl was left in Sylvia now or at least she couldn’t be found. The woman she was now didn’t yearn for sophistication, and as far as she could tell she’d stopped yearning for much at all. The woman she’d become was fat and weighed down, but not just fat, dumb too, and always in the process of adjusting, like there was two of everything, the real thing and the shimmering copy that her brain had to work with focus and concentration to integrate. Her brain in slow-mo or she felt slow–same difference. The result was the girl she’d been had evaporated from her body like an emancipated soul.”
What I like is that Sylvia makes an honest appraisal of herself here. She is not eliciting pity–simply telling the truth.
I find that refreshing.
That is why I liked No One Is Coming to Save Us. Although it first seemed to focus on the deprivation of a black community in the South, I quickly saw it isn’t only about the African-American South or even about poverty in the contemporary South. It is about the American Dream and how these people, in this special place and time, define it, how they lose it or make it come true.
My next book review will be about the next Western Carolina University Book Club read, Bryan Stevenson’s Just Mercy. I have seen the movie version of the book, too, so maybe it will be a book/movie comparison. Spoiler alert: the book is better than the movie, but the movie is very good.
Also, I will soon be unveiling the 2020 fall/winter edition of Teach. Write.: A Writing Teachers’ Literary Journal, slated to appear October 1.
So come back!!
So don’t stop thinking about tomorrow. Okay, enough with the Fleetwood Mac allusions. I’m getting a little bit punchy. It’s been a whirlwind start after a quiet summer without the usual activities. Sad? Yes, in some ways. I miss being with my friends and extended family but also very healing–a time to focus on exercising, cooking, reading, and writing–for myself!!!
I did work a great deal on my classes, taking my knowledge of new technologies and integrating them into my already strong online classes. (No brag, just fact) Our distance learning staff has been doing a lot of course redesign training, and I am trying to put their ideas into practice. So far, students seem to be responding well to the changes.
Speaking of students, I need to get to it, but I will leave you with a link to a great article from Inside Higher Education about the positive side of remote learning and the incredible job some inspired faculty with a passion for education, like the people I am blessed to work with, are doing.
NEXT POST COMING SOON!!!
Look for Updates on Teach. Write. and Mrs. Winkler’s reading and writing.
This summer continues to be a time of renewal for my spirit, but it hasn’t been easy. My reading adventures, working on this crazy satirical novel , and being alone so much have led me to confront many uncomfortable realities about myself–I have lacked resilience and settled for mediocrity much of my life. I’m often petty, self-absorbed and self-righteous, easily angered, hypocritical, thoughtless, vain, jealous, etc., etc.
Oh, don’t worry, I continue to love myself. That’s kind of the problem. I think of myself more highly than I ought, methinks.
Many of the books I’ve chosen to read this summer have helped me to see some of my many weaknesses, and also, thankfully, validated some of my strengths. As always, the two are inextricably bound to one another. But the book I just finished has not only convicted but also bolstered my spirit and renewed my resolve.
The book is Real Christianity, a paraphrase (by Bob Beltz) of William Wilberforce’s A Practical view of the prevailing religious system of Professed Christians, in the higher and middle classes in this country, contrasted with real Christianity written in 1797. The title alone explains why I read the paraphrase, but someday I will read the original.
William Wilberforce was an abolitionist and member of parliament who helped to end slavery in England. His book, however, never explicitly mentions the battle to abolish slavery, and it addresses, as the original title suggests, the middle and upper classes of the British Empire.
But it didn’t take long at all for me to see myself and my country in the pages of this modern paraphrase, written in 2006 by the man who was one of the producers of the very good biopic Amazing Grace, that tells the story of Wilberforce’s twenty-year fight. More about the movie later.
For example, here is a quote from early in the book:
“We must remember that almost any ideology can be distorted and misused to bring misery to multitudes or justification to the most bizarre behavior. Nothing is more dangerous. That which is intended to motivate goodness and restrain evil actually can become the instrument of that which it intended to restrain. History is full of examples of how virtues such as liberty or patriotism become twisted when separated from a healthy and authentic faith. Twisted men in every generation and occupation have twisted whatever they must twist to get what they want. Why should we expect that some within the Church would not be guilty of the same actions?” (46).
Wow! See what I mean? And it was written in the 18th Century! Wilberforce himself struggled with the same issues he writes about. He is remembered for being a force for good, for valid reasons, but, of course, he struggled and failed miserably at times, especially in allowing slave labor, thinly veiled by the concept of “apprentices,” to continue in the abolitionist colony of Sierra Leone. See this interesting article on the subject in The Guardian.
See what I mean? Conviction and renewal. Convicted by Wilberforce’s words and renewed by the knowledge that his failure was, and mine is, inevitable. Renewed? How does being reminded of failure possibly revive my soul? Another paradox of my faith, I suppose. I see that the answer is not abandoning my faith or ceasing to struggle to do good, but knowing that I can ask for and WILL receive forgiveness, I can continue striving to do some good in the world.
Not a bad lesson to pass on to my students, is it?
Here’s another one:
“Money and ambition have become idols in our time, especially for individuals in the business and professional worlds. Disguised as common business practice, these forces are allowed to gather great momentum in our lives. Arguments about being diligent at what we do, becoming successful in our profession or providing for our families seduce us so that we no longer have a clear sense of judgment about these issues. Our work consumes us” (73).
It is important to keep in mind that he is addressing Christians here, not people who do not claim to be believers. Knowing that, these words strike me to the core. I have let my work consume me. I have become as data-driven as the rest of the world. What is my retention rate? How many students passed that essay with a C or better? Let me check how many hours I spent working on the LMS. Look at those FTE’s, will you?
I am convicted, but I am renewed because, since March, I have been working from home, so thankful that I have been forced to concentrate my efforts on the people who need me–my family, my friends, and, my students.
It’s about time.
If you want to know more about Wilberforce and the battle to end slavery in the British Empire, I highly recommend the film Amazing Grace. Strong performances, especially Benedict Cumberbatch as England’s youngest ever prime minister, William Pitt the Younger, who was a great friend of Wilberforce’s.
Wilberforce, William. Real Christianity. Revised and edited by Bob Beltz, Regal, 2006.