In my last blog post, I wrote about attending the Appalachian Writer’s Conference held at Berea College, but what I couldn’t announce then is that I won first place in the memoir category of the Appy Inkwell Writing Awards sponsored by the conference. Part of the prize for first place is publication with Martin Sisters Publishing!
As I’ve written in other blogposts, I made completing my memoir one of major writing projects of my first retirement year and accomplished that, but the opportunity to enter the Appy Inkwell Awards came up unexpectedly when I went to register for the Appalachian Writer’s Conference. I worked on polishing the first 2,500 words of the book and was quite pleased with the results, but what a surprise!
I celebrated the first-year anniversary of my retirement on August 1 and on August 3 received the e-mail saying that I had won!! I was so happy to tell the good news to my 88-year-old mother, the person who inspired me to write my teaching memoir shortly before I retired. What a thrill!
The awards ceremony came after three days of making new writer friends and learning so much about the craft and business of writing at the conference. Truly an amazing experience. I also enjoyed walking around the beautiful Berea College campus, talking with college students (one of the things I miss about teaching), eating delicious food, and traveling around the Kentucky countryside. I especially enjoyed traveling to New Castle, KY into Wendell Berry country. He’s one of my literary heroes!
Visiting Frankfort, the capital of Kentucky was a delightful spontaneous adventure. I had a good meal at the Cliffside Diner, walked around the city and the grounds of the capitol and took a trip to the Frankfort cemetery located above the Kentucky River to see the grave of Daniel and Rebecca Boone.
That day alone, traveling around the rolling hills and farmland of Kentucky before the conference and the awards ceremony, was a precious time of reflection, thinking about my life and my career. I remember in undergraduate school how I arrogantly tacked a note to the bulletin board on my dorm room door that stated I would be “Future Teacher of the Year and Winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature.” I never accomplished the first and am unlikely to complete the second, but I have had a grand career as a teacher and a writer. I may be officially retired, but I’ll never stop being either one.
Draper Hall, Berea College — By Parkerdr – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0
It’s getting real y’all!
On Monday, I leave for the Appalachian Writer’s Conference in Berea, Kentucky. It’s my first time going to Berea and the first time to this conference, so I’m excited. Two of my teacher friends attended and sing the praises of Berea College, which was the first integrated, co-educational college in the South and has not charged tuition since 1892. Wow! What a concept! The conference will be at the Historic Boone Tavern Hotel that stands on the grounds of the college.
What a great place to spend a week thinking about writing and higher education in the South as I work on my teaching memoir and attend sessions about composing, revising, editing, and understanding the business of writing. I also hope to take a trip up to New Castle, Kentucky to the Berry Center, dedicated to one of my favorite writers and educators, Wendell Berry.
Then, in October, as one of the highlights of my year as a Dramatists Guild Foundation National Virtual Fellow, I will finally get to meet the other fellows and our instructors face to face in New York City, where we will attend the Dramatists Guild Foundation’s annual gala among other activities. I have learned so much during this year and am so grateful for the opportunities to revise and add to my musical A Carolina Story and revisit my satirical work about education in Appalachia: CAMPUS. Getting to meet producers, agents, directors, and actors who are part of DGF is something I never dreamed possible until I became a fellow.
You can be sure that I will update you about both of these exciting adventures. Also, somehow, I will also edit and produce the 2024 Fall/Winter edition of Teach. Write., which now has a new subtitle: A Literary Journal for Writing Teachers. The publication date is still planned for October 1.
August 1, 2023, was my first official day of retirement. I left after 27 years of teaching at a small community college in western North Carolina. Officially, I retired early, but I say I ended my career right on time. Some may say that I was burned out or that I had quietly quit years before, and perhaps both are true. All I know is that I loved teaching, what it really is supposed to be, too much to keep trying to do it with little academic freedom or shared governance. I couldn’t remain in a place that cared more about enrollment and data than individual students and their learning.
Writing and editing, separate from the scads of e-mails I wrote and student writing I graded, are the things that kept me going the last few years of my teaching career. This blog, started in 2014, was the first place I regularly vented my frustrations at the negative changes I saw at my institution. But I also kept my spirits up by writing about teaching itself, some of my victories in the classroom, my memories of great teachers and wonderful teaching experiences I had.
Then, in 2017, after publishing another short story and having published dozens of theater reviews and feature articles for the local newspaper, I realized that risking rejection and criticism by putting my work out into the world not only helped me be a better writer, but it also made me a better writing teacher. I wanted to offer a special kind of professional development opportunity to other writing teachers and Teach. Write. was born. Editing Teach. Write. has been one of the joys of my life and is even better now that I have time to devote to its improvement.
However, even with the blog and the journal, the pressure was getting to me. The worst part of all was realizing how powerless I was to effect any change as I witnessed the autonomy that I had enjoyed at the beginning of my career begin to erode. So, I turned to a writing project that began as a musical but had laid dormant for several years–a satire called CAMPUS.
When it started getting particularly rough, I turned back to CAMPUS and decided, I think with the help of my wonderful daughter, that I wanted to turn my musical into a novel and keep the musical element alive by podcasting it with music. How? How would I do it? First, my daughter, a sound technician, did research on the best podcasting equipment, told my sweet husband, who bought the equipment for me as a Christmas gift. It wasn’t long before I was podcasting this crazy, satirical story about higher education at a small college in western North Carolina.
But not just any college. This enchanted campus has elves, gnomes, moon people, fairy godteachers, vampires, zombies, and a boojum–kind of an Appalachian yeti–oh, and a nazi. CAMPUS is definitely out there, but its weirdness has allowed me to say things I never could have said out loud otherwise. I produced about 13 episodes.
You can go and hear them at most podcasting platforms. Just search CAMPUS: A Novel That Wants to Be a Musical and you will find them. Don’t get too excited–the production value is low because I have no idea what I’m doing, but you know, I’m kind of proud of those episodes. I’m proud of myself for completing them, taking a chance. They helped me survive those last few years of teaching and the isolation of teaching during the worst of the pandemic years.
I want to get back to completing CAMPUS when I finish the other big writing projects on my plate right now, but until then, I will leave you with one of my favorite scenes from CAMPUS, when the discouraged, burned-out faculty makes their debut “Down at the Diploma Mill.”
DOWN AT THE DIPLOMA MILL
At that, in true musical fashion, a slow droning chant arose from across the quad as “They” began to come in. The slow heavy beat of the prison blues, the stomping of feet like the striking of a heavy hammer on a stake. THEM, teachers in ragged clothes and carrying old worn-out books came onto the quad. And they chanted:
ONCE WE WERE SOME BRIGHT YOUNG TEACHERS
ONCE WE WROTE ENGAGING LESSON PLANS
ONCE WE LOOKED INTO THEIR SHINING FACES
OUR STUDENTS WERE OUR INNOCENT LITTLE LAMBS
BUT NOW
BUT NOW
BUT NOW
CHORUS
WE’RE WORKIN’ DOWN AT THE DIPLOMA MILL
LOOKIN’ FOR SOME BRAIN CELLS TO KILL
WE NEVER MEANT IT TO BE THIS WAY
BUT WE GOT NOTHIN’ LEFT TO SAY
DOWN AT THE DIPLOMA MILL
ONCE WE HAD SOME GOOD IDEAS
ONCE WE TRIED TO CHANGE OUR WAYS
WE ALL SHUNNED STANDARDIZED TESTS
TRIED OUR BEST
TO NOT BE LIKE THE REST
BUT NOW
BUT NOW
BUT NOW
WE’RE WORKING
AT THE DIPLOMA MILL
WE’RE WORKING DOWN AT THE DIPLOMA MILL
LOOKIN’ FOR SOME BRAIN CELLS TO KILL
WE NEVER MEANT IT TO BE THIS WAY
BUT WE GOT NOTHIN’ LEFT TO SAY
DOWN AT THE DIPLOMA MILL
ASK AN ESSAY QUESTION
DO A PROJECT INSTEAD
BUT THE DEAN SAID IT WASN’T ASSESSMENT
WE SHOULD GET RETURN ON OUR INVESTMENT
IF IT’S NOT SOMETHING WE CAN CALCULATE
OR THAT’S EASY TO REGURGITATE
THEN IT’S SOMETHING YOU CAN’T DO
DOWN AT THE DIPLOMA MILL
The group begins to hum as they mount the stage and form a line of disgruntled burned out teachers. An old professor in a ragged tweed jacket with torn leather patches on the shoulder, holding a pipe comes to the mic. There is no sign of Dr. DAG. He’s gone off to Dog Hobble to that expensive restaurant only a few residents and the tourists can afford.
The old professor takes the mic as the group hums on. He speaks:
I’ll tell you what I want. Huh, come to think of it, what, exactly, do I want? I used to want to be published in exclusive journals, solicited to speak at prestigious conferences, overseas…in Europe…in Paris, all expenses paid. I wanted to be so valuable to the college I could thumb my nose at the presidents and VPs and deans and especially department chairs like Dr. C. J. Hamilton, who just had to lord over me his award-winning dissertation, the title of which he doesn’t let anyone forget– The Reawakening of Chartism and the Writings of Thomas Carlylse in the Post-Victorian/Pre-Edwardian Epoch.
Do you know what he said when I told him that I had my students all meet me at that great vegan restaurant in Asheville? He said it was stupid! Yeah. My innovative idea! A lot better than sitting around on a bunch of hard chairs in straight little rows listening to Dr. Hamilton drone on and on about Sartor Resartus and Queen Victoria’s increasing seclusion and her fat son’s sickening perversions.
My idea was great! We had a good meal, raised a few organic brews, and it was off to search for the famous O’Henry plaque embedded in the sidewalk near the cafe. We found it. I didn’t tell them that when O’Henry came to Asheville, he was a penniless drunk. How could I tell a group of 20-somethings in a creative writing class that I knew all their dreams would come to nothing?
But then we all drove together over to the Grove Park Inn to find the F. Scott Fitzgerald room. They all wanted to see the place where Fitzgerald didn’t write while he waited for Zelda to slowly lose her mind. We found the room, but I think we had all underestimated the effect of that many beers, organic or not, on our critical thinking skills. We had a hard time finding the room, and when we did and got in there… How did we get in there?
The concierge wasn’t too happy that we barged in on those German tourists. At least one of them was German because I recognized certain select vernacular. Anyway, before the burly one threw us out, I did get a glimpse around the room, a nice room, but ordinary, nothing special about it at all really. I mean why should there be? Fitzgerald just sat there, day in and day out, not writing and drinking himself into mind- numbing oblivion. On second thought, although I can’t tell you what I want, I can tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want to do this anymore.
All they did was ask me to do a 15-minute devotional at my church’s drama camp, 3rd-8th graders and young high school and college-aged counselors, but I felt like I was back in the classroom again. The camp leader said I should talk about perseverance and use our verse for the week–James 1: 2-4.
2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,[ a] whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.
I was ridiculously excited to put together this little lesson. Just like in the old days, I tried to consider my audience–a wide range of ages, more girls than boys, artsy theater kids, not easy to engage–a challenge. Yes!
The first think I did was choose a PowerPoint theme with some interesting graphics and give my talk a title. I chose a presentation template called Pheasant and called it “If at first you don’t succeed.” I know what you’re thinking, PowerPoint is so passe, how can that engage? What a corny title, how will that grab kids’ attention? I didn’t know how. I just went with my gut–just like in the old days.
First thing good teachers do is review, right? So, I reviewed the verse, emphasizing how perseverance helps us grow. Then, as an example, I did research on some young actors who went through adversity before they made their breakthroughs and settled on Millie Bobby Brown, who started trying to get commercials and roles at a very young age. She and her family were about to give up when she got the role of Eleven in the hit Netflix series Stranger Things, for which she won a Screen Actors Guild Award. My thinking was that trying to get roles and failing would resonate with kids who the day before had auditioned for the little plays we would do at the end of the week. Not all of them received the roles they had set their hearts own. My strategy worked. This rowdy bunch of kids were quiet, listening, engaged.
Next came the question for the audience: Have you ever failed at something? Raise your hand. Many of them raised their hands? Give me one word to describe how you felt? The answers came–sad, depressed, bad, heart-broken, mad. Just as in my classrooms before, I wanted my talk to be interactive. I continued to ask questions of the group as we proceeded.
The camp leader had asked me to share a little about my background as a playwright and writer, so in this context, I decided to share about my failures–how in 40 years of working to be published I had about 30 short stories published and four plays produced at a community college. If that sounds like a lot, I said, it isn’t. After about ten years I quit counting my rejections. I had reached 200 by then and since then had had hundreds more.
By this time, I could have heard a pin drop. I had them! I told them that none of that mattered. That success as a writer, an actor, a musician, is in the doing. I told them that I express my heart through my writing and need to write. I can’t not write, I told them. The striving and the working to become better and better makes the tangible successes that much sweeter.
Now was time for the pièce de résistance
I showed a short video of when Heather Dorniden, now Kampf, raced in the 600m, fell flat on her face, got up and came back to win the race. This part of the talk especially seemed to speak to the older girls; some of them were athletes, some had seen the clip before. But all the kids were mesmerized. You can see the race for yourself:
I had done some further research on Kampf and found an interview where she explained in more detail about the race and some of her experiences, good and bad, that happened in her running career after that incredible race. When I explained Heather’s background and the victories and hardships throughout her career, the point was made. The last slide read:
I don’t know if those drama campers will remember my talk, but I will never forget how this old, retired teacher felt that familiar fire as I looked into those young faces and could see hope and inspiration there. No, I don’t want to go back to grading endless comparison essays in overcrowded online classes or deal with all the bureaucratic and political crap I had to put up with over the years, but I sure do miss that feeling.
It was good to get it back once again, even if just for fifteen minutes.
The Foundation is now an independent organization but was an arm of the Dramatists Guild of America, which I have been a member of since 2006 when I applied. I submitted my one-act play Green Room, a social satire that takes place in the green room of a sleazy talk show. The play had been produced at Blue Ridge Community College in Flat Rock, North Carolina, where I taught for 27 years and from where I retired Aug 1 of last year.
The Foundation continues to strongly support Dramatists Guild members, and I receive regular communications from both groups. Towards the end of my final year of teaching, the Foundation announced it was offering, for the first time, a national virtual fellowship for Dramatists Guildmembers living outside of the New York area. Being accepted was indeed a long shot, but with the help of my theater friend and mentor at the college, who had directed all of the four plays I had produced there, I decided to apply.
I submitted sample pages and music from my play A Carolina Story, applying for a position as a musical theater fellow. The play, a re-telling of the Story of Job set in Western North Carolina during the depression, had been produced at Blue Ridge about ten years ago, but I have long wanted to revise and revive it. I also thought it was the best fit for the national fellows program as it represents Appalachia and its unique often misrepresented culture. Quite a few months went by, my retirement began, and I thought nothing more about the fellowship. Then, in November I found out I was a finalist, by December, I was in!
Since January, the fellows from all over the country have been meeting for two-hour workshops as well as critiquing each other’s work and encouraging each other. I have exchanged my play with four talented playwrights so far, learning so much from just reading their works, but also getting invaluable feedback about my play. Best of all is being around people who are so different but are united by the love of words and the theater.
Being a fellowhas put me back in the position of a student but has also allowed me to use the teaching skills I worked so hard to develop as a college instructor, especially when giving feedback to the other fellows. Discussing my work with other professional playwrights was at first intimidating; I thought I was out of my league, but now I realize that although my play needs improvement, it holds its own. It has promise.
I am honored to be a part of the Dramatists Guild Foundation’s inaugural 2024-2025 National Virtual Fellowship program and congratulate the Foundation on receiving its well-deserved TONY!
We suffer from distractions. It’s not only the high tech, although that is definitely a problem – our phones and computers and endless entertainment sources and open AI and, and, and. More than anything else, we are distracted by our concerns. No, our worries. Perhaps it makes us feel virtuous to worry, to endlessly bemoan the failings of others and how they are leading us all down the path that leads to destruction. After all, if we can distract ourselves with how the world is going to hell in a handbasket, maybe we won’t have to look into our own souls and search for the true sources of our problems.
Lord knows I’m guilty. If I worry enough about how this current election will affect education and talk about it enough with friends, then I can distract from the fact that I promised myself I would finish my teaching memoir this first year of my retirement and that I would work diligently on making the most use of the Virtual Playwriting Fellowship the Dramatists Guild Foundation awarded me.
Of course, I don’t call it worrying; I am “concerned,” so my worry becomes something good, right? My other distractions, including social media, are being used, I tell myself, to help raise awareness and guide people toward good things. And it is good if I stay focused, but if I’m honest, I don’t. I start out with those good intentions and slip on down the road to you know where.
In Book XII of C. S. Lewis’s great satiric epistolary novel, The Screwtape Letters, the uncle demon Screwtape advises his nephew Wormwood about the value of distractions to keep the new Christian, no longer in danger of the fires of hell, from being too effective.
You can make him waste his time not only in conversation he enjoys with people whom he likes, but in conversations with those he cares nothing about on subjects that bore him. You can make him do nothing at all for long periods. You can keep him up late at night, not roistering, but staring at a dead fire in a cold room. All the healthy and outgoing activities which we want him to avoid can be inhibited and nothing given in return, so that at last he may say, as one of my own patients said on his arrival down here, “I now see that I spent most of my life in doing neither what I ought nor what I liked”. The Christians describe the Enemy as one “without whom Nothing is strong”. And Nothing is very strong: strong enough to steal away a man’s best years not in sweet sins but in a dreary flickering of the mind over it knows not what and knows not why, in the gratification of curiosities so feeble that the man is only half aware of them, in drumming of fingers and kicking of heels, in whistling tunes that he does not like, or in the long, dim labyrinth of reveries that have not even lust or ambition to give them a relish, but which, once chance association has started them, the creature is too weak and fuddled to shake off.
You will say that these are very small sins; and doubtless, like all young tempters, you are anxious to be able to report spectacular wickedness. But do remember, the only thing that matters is the extent to which you separate the man from the Enemy. It does not matter how small the sins are provided that their cumulative effect is to edge the man away from the Light and out into the Nothing. Murder is no better than cards if cards can do the trick. Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one—the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts,
So, whether it be pleasure or worry that distracts us, in the end all that will matter is that we have not acted as we should have or wanted to. It is right that we be concerned about extremist candidates running for state superintendent, about school board meetings becoming violent, about indoctrination coming from the right or left, about unwarranted censorship or the lack thereof, but it is wrong of us to see problems where there aren’t any or to let our fears and worries distract us from what you (talking to teachers now) are supposed to do–TEACH.
Until the last two years of my teaching, I worried constantly about ambiguous mandates coming down from the administration. Often, they didn’t apply to me but nevertheless distracted from my teaching. I would get upset, argue, discuss whatever it was endlessly with my colleagues in their offices. The thing is I didn’t need to worry because most people in the administration were simply passing on what had been mandated to them, having little hope that, for example, yet another restructuring of developmental education would fix the problems that the previous restructuring just a few years before had not fixed or made worse.
All my “concern” did not help me teach those developmental classes effectively. The only thing that helped was buckling down and embracing any sound ideas and finding ways around the silliness, or simply ignoring it. For example, when the state mandated that instructors should not use fiction or essays written in first-person to teach reading and writing, I was flabbergasted, ready to fight this nonsense tooth and nail at the conference I went to explaining the new curriculum. However, low and behold, almost every session at the conference included sample readings that were either essays written in fir st person or fiction. These teachers were fantastic, and their lesson ideas were great. I adopted some of them. No one seemed to notice these teachers were ignoring the mandate, including the people who had cobbled together the new curriculum. I didn’t have to fight.
Now that I’m retired, I can see that I wasted a lot of time and caused myself undo stress by allowing myself to be distracted by administrative bloat and broad, ambiguous criticism. All I can do now is say to young educators, please don’t be like me: don’t turn your teaching world upside down with every pedagogical or andragogical wind that blows. It’s not worth it. Pick out the good ideas and incorporate them, change when you need to, learn new technical skills that enhance your teaching, use old ideas that have worked for you before, and trust yourself.
Teaching is a craft. You should always be open to improving it; however, teaching is also an art, most successful when it is creative and engaging, when it takes risks, when it moves onto the fringes and beckons students into the glorious realm of ideas.
As a much older, bossy sister, it is hard to admit that my baby brother has been such an influential teacher to me for half a century. But, the past few weeks, as he has endured serious health issues, including emergency open heart surgery, I have been reminded of some of the strengths he’s demonstrated time and time again, including adaptability, persistence, and most of all, resilience.
My brother hasn’t chosen the easiest path to make a living: he breeds and trains working German shepherds. He started the business when he was still in undergraduate school at Auburn University and grew it through many years of struggle as he was working on his master’s in liberal arts at Auburn University-Montgomery. While there, he focused on media and computer studies that have all been helpful in conducting his business, which included creating and maintaining his website: Schwarzerhund.com. His dogs are some of the most intelligent, powerful, and beautiful creatures you will ever have the privilege to meet.
My brother is no stranger to adversity. On April 27, 2011, less than two weeks after the death of our sister Ronda and the evening of the day he defended his master’s thesis, Rob’s trailer, right next to my parents’ house, was destroyed by one of the EF-4 tornados to strike Alabama during the historic super tornado outbreak that year.
What was left of the trailer after the tornado–photo by Katie Winkler
Around 10:00 pm, my brother had fallen asleep in front of the television and did not hear the news of the approaching tornado. He did, however, hear the tell-tale sounds of wind rushing like a locomotive bearing down on his vulnerable home. He and the young German shepherd he was caring for sprinted across the lawn to my parents’ house. My mother, also unaware of the approaching tornado, had just locked the door when Rob started pounding on it, yelling, “Mom, you’ve got to let me in or I’m going to die.”
He made it inside, but as soon as my mother closed the door behind him, the tornado struck. My brother recalls how they could hear the roof creaking and giving way as half of it was sucked up into the vortex. Somehow, they made it to the hallway, where they met my father, who had mobility issues due to diabetic neuropathy, coming out of his bedroom. They headed to the bathroom and stood huddled in the tub waiting for the storm to pass, which it did shortly after.
They were safe. That was the main thing.
The family home after the tornado
However, the damage was extensive; my brother knew that, but he didn’t have time to fully take stock of everything that happened. Once he made sure my elderly parents were in an undamaged room of the house and safe, he found the house’s insurance information, but of course the phone lines were out, and at that time, cell coverage was spotty at best in that area of Chambers County, one of the poorest in the nation.
So, he called his big sister. At first my husband and I couldn’t hear much, but made out the word tornado, and looked on the Weather Channel’s website to see the news of the huge storm. The radar showed the cells all over Alabama. We were helpless, though, until Rob was able to navigate around all the fallen trees and drive close enough to a town to get cell reception. Because of Rob’s quick thinking, I was one of the first to call and inform the insurance company of the disaster, so my family was able to quickly receive help.
About two months into the rebuilding–June 2011
Rob made a few other essential calls and then headed home. When he drove up to the house, the dog that had followed him from the house across the yard, that he thought was lost in the storm, came running up to him unharmed. She must have been able to get under the house. That was the first of many miracles that kept him going in all the many months following the tornado.
To my credit, I did do my share, helping out as much as I could, especially with my parents by securing a place for them to live while the house was being rebuilt and visiting as often as I could, but it was my brother who adapted his entire life in order to manage the property and his business after the storm. He stayed at the farm, at first sleeping under the carport in a recliner with a shotgun to ward off looters while protecting and caring for his beloved dogs. Of all the dozens of animals he cared for at the time, he didn’t lose any in the storm itself, and only two died as a result of injury and trauma–A miracle that such a powerful storm did not take more lives.
The Family Home Today
To my discredit, however, I did try to play the big sister at one point. I admit that I got pretty bossy and critical during that time, and my little brother finally had enough. He told me, “Katie, you’re going to have to make a decision. You’re either going to have to come down here permanently and run the show, or you’re going to have to trust me to do it.” I learned two valuable lessons that day: Number 1–Little brothers grow up and become men. Number 2–People have to be given a chance to handle things their own way–they have to be trusted.
That last lesson really helped me as an instructor to adult students. I learned that I was actually hurting my students if I gave them too much direction, if I didn’t allow them to discover things on their own, even if they had to experience painful trial and error. That’s the only way we really learn anything. During the years of recovery, my brother made some mistakes, but he pulled through and has brought the farm and his business back from the devastation of the tornado, a credit to his tenacious spirit.
One of Rob’s beautiful puppies.
This last trial that my brother has been through, enduring sextuple heart bypass surgery, has once again proven his persistence and resilience, his ability to adjust and adapt his best laid plans. Also, in the midst of that, he has maintained an optimism that defies his circumstances. He has shown humility and gratitude, allowing medical professionals, friends, and family to enter into his private world and help him. This is easier said than done for an independent introverted bachelor, but he has done it and has grown as a person as he has adapted to his new reality.
I took Rob to his first doctor appointment with his primary physician following the surgery, and his nurse read from the cardiac ICU report. It said, “Robert Whitlock is a 54-year-old male and a very nice man.” An understatement. He’s also the best little brother anybody could ask for.
Okay. It’s time for all sides in the book banning debacle to simmer down. If people would just chill, the world would be a better place. (And I am the chief non-chill person, so I’m talking to myself here, too.) I do think that people throw around the word “banned” a bit too freely, especially where school classrooms and libraries are concerned.
Take Florida, for example, where people are justifiably concerned about House Bill 1467 that requires extensive review of classroom materials by members of school boards, most of whom are not educators nor librarians with no training in curriculum development. It also requires principals to take on onerous clerical responsibilities for materials. In addition, only certified librarians, who are already certified in Florida, must go through further training on what is considered “appropriate” before they can review material and if they do not comply completely with the new law, then they risk being disciplined or removed from their positions.
Therefore, the decision by some Florida school districts has been to remove any book that could possibly be considered inappropriate until the librarians can be trained, or indoctrinated, into seeing a book the way those of a particular political persuasion sees that book. On the other hand, people, again justifiably so, are upset when they read headlines about books being removed from the shelves and see photos of those empty school library shelves.
But, here’s my thing, those books that are being pulled from the shelves, they haven’t been banned. They are being pulled for review. Now, I know I don’t know nuthin bout the running of the government and I’m just a little ole retired English teacher, but I’m just gonna say it. This Florida law is stupid. The way I read it is that for political purposes, the Florida legislature has passed this law to placate extremist folks of all kinds, many who could not care less about the true education of children, which involves the continual development of their ability to discern what is right and true and good. Think John Milton’s great speech on censorship, the Aeropagitica.
In reality, all this bill is doing is creating a bureaucratic, unenforceable mess. Already, teachers don’t have enough time in the day to actually teach students much of anything, much less form relationships with them so teachers can match instruction to the individual student’s needs. Librarians don’t have time to lead students in instruction on how to complete research or help them find books that they WANT to read or encourage them to love reading. How is a school board that meets once a month, is not compensated for their time, and more than likely does not have the knowledge of curriculum for all of the different subjects, with usually no training in determining grade level, how are they supposed to review ALL instructional material for the school? AND as I understand it, the law indicates that school boards must do this review in public and allow for public comment and input. It’s a ridiculous notion to think that compliance with this law will be possible.
This is one reason why everybody needs to chill. This is bad law. What needs to happen is people standing up and having a conversation about why it’s bad and challenging it.
Perhaps I’m cynical. Perhaps I’m bitter. So, take my words with a grain of salt, but I just don’t think many people really care. In the end, the outrage on both sides will pass and teachers will be stuck with more rules to follow, forms to fill out, evaluations to be made, everything to take them away from what should be their focus, explaining, mentoring, encouraging, assessing, remediating–teaching.
To me, all of the bluster is intended to make people feel like they care about the education of children. To show that they are a true believer in either a religious or secular sense. “See, I go to school board meetings and speak out about showing pornography to our kids.” “Look at me! I go to school board meetings to speak out about freedom and against censorship.”
But the teachers and administration need to chill, too. There’s just too much reactionary activity on all sides. Florida passes a law. The admin and some teachers are worried about being sued or losing their jobs. I know there might be a chance of that happening, but life is risky. Look, I’m not trying to make light of that fear, but is a job at a school that consistently makes you go against your conscience really worth having?
Teachers, look at your situation. How likely is it that you will lose your job? How many times in your career has your job been threatened because of what and how you teach? I know there are some, but it is kind of like a police officer using a gun–many officers go through their whole career never firing their gun except on the firing range. A 2016 Pew Research Center study sponsored by The National Police Research Platform found that only 27% of officers fired their guns while on duty.
It seems to be even rarer for a teacher to be fired for cause. A fact check by 74 indicates that only 2.1% of American public school teachers are fired for cause, mainly for incompetence, not for their ideology, not for what they are teaching. I couldn’t find separate statistics for those directly fired because of the books they have on their shelves and in their curriculum, but it’s less than 2%.
I would never tell a teacher what to do, but I would encourage teachers everywhere at every level–stand up for yourself, stand up for what you believe, stand up for freedom of thought and against censorship. At the same time, admit when a book is inappropriate for your students. Avoid feeling threatened when a parent challenges a book. It’s their right. At the same time, encourage parents to come to you when they have a question about something you’ve said or about a book or some other aspect of the curriculum instead of going immediately to administration.
If you are an administrator or a school board member or a parent, please don’t leave the classroom teacher out. Ask them what’s going on. Have real discussions face to face with the teacher, instructor, or professor. Understand that what a student says about what a teacher says and does is not going to give anyone a complete picture of what is really happening in our classrooms. However, talk to our students about what is happening with book bans, challenges, and removals. They might surprise us with what they are able to “handle.”
So, let’s try not to overreact. Instead of leaping to review every book for any remote perception of something wrong, or more than likely to make our big important political statements, why don’t we allow teachers to make their own judgments while parents make theirs, recognizing that sometimes all we need to do is talk together about books and ideas and feelings, even if they make us uncomfortable. Sometimes, that’s when real education begins.
Poor college!!! Seems like every Tom, Dick, and Henrietta is taking a pot shot at you these days. I know, I know, you can be expensive, especially if people get sweet-talked into taking on college loans (Don’t do it unless you absolutely have to!). Also, some classes and professors will be really sucky at your place. People can be downright mean, too. Plus, students can get in a lot of trouble given the kind of freedom that you bring. Don’t forget, you forced me to question my core beliefs. Yes, I didn’t abandon those beliefs, but admit it, I did question them, loudly and a lot.
Is it just me, or did you, along with a supportive family and friends, help me find my way through my late teens and early twenties? Did you help me forge positive, meaningful relationships with people from other cultures and countries with varying backgrounds and values? I think it was you who qualified me for a fulfilling career as an English and German teacher at the high school and college level. During my working years, you helped me provide a strong high school education for my child and made it possible for me and my husband to pay for her now debt-free education (two degrees). You allowed me to contribute to a pension plan that means I can enjoy a financially secure retirement.
Because of you, in undergraduate school at a Christian university, I traveled to Europe for six weeks, studying German and history. I visited West Berlin when it was still trapped within a wall, but somehow still free because of what my country, along with England and France, did for that city. I laid hands on the graffiti-laden free side of that wall and was thankful to be a citizen of a nation that saw the value in maintaining the democracy of a country with which it had so recently been at war.
Because of you, I visited Christians in East Berlin who were trapped outside the wall by an oppressive communist regime that would not let them worship freely. Yes, older people could go to church, but their every movement was monitored by the Stasi, the East German secret police, and younger people were prevented, by law, from attending church. And yet, in those few hours in the East, I witnessed the bravery of those who longed for freedom–an old woman who shook the hands of every student and said in broken English, “Tell them we have no freedom here. Tell them we have no freedom here. Tell them we have no freedom here.” The young people in their teens and twenties who traveled two-by-two just to meet, in secret, a group of American Christians, tell them their stories, and fellowship with them.
Because of you, I was able to spend the second half of my German trip in Tübingen to visit my brother who was studying theology there. I lived in the international dorm and traveled into the city, learning the mass transit system (new to me), eating at the Mensa (student cafeteria), visiting the old castle where my brother preached his first sermon to an intimidating crowd of professors, and sitting in on lectures about biblical archeology, some of which I could actually understand! We punted flat boats on the Neckar River, took walks into the forests, and had picnics with my brother’s friends. We took a train to Munich to hear The Rolling Stones at the Olympic Stadium and hitchhiked the way back (not recommended these days but safe back then).
Only because of you could I have afforded this trip. You didn’t pay for it outright, but you supplemented it, enriched it with quality faculty members who had the knowledge to plan our trip in order to give us the best educational and personal experiences possible. I also learned how to work for what I wanted, taking on two jobs and saving to raise the funds.
I had so many other wonderful experiences during my college years because of the support you offered, and I have gotten so much more out of my experiences since then because of you, but you also gave me a chance to make a living doing what I love to do–teach. The data shows that you give many people that opportunity–people with a bachelor’s, master’s, professional, or doctoral degree still make more on average AND have lower unemployment than those with a two-year degree or less, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics using 2022 data. You give so many of us so many opportunities we wouldn’t have without you.
I know you’re not perfect. Far from it. You have so many problems that more and more people are saying you’re not worth it. But you are!! Even though I realize you are not right for everybody–my own husband went to trade school to study x-ray and ultrasound technology, which has led to a great career for him. But for me, you made the difference despite the drawbacks. College, you have enriched my life more than I can say in one brief post. I can keep writing about you and the lessons you taught for at least the length of one book.
Oh, I think I will.
How about that for a segue? I hope to finish the rough draft of my educational memoir “Lessons” by the end of the year. I will keep you updated about the progress and maybe spin some more tales as I’m working on the book.
Also, the journal I edit and publish, Teach. Write., is open for submissions until March 1. The 2023 Spring/Summer edition is to be published on April 1. See the submission guidelines at teachwritejournal.com.
Many instructors are fearful about artificial intelligence and what it will do to student writing in freshman composition classes. I understand their concern, especially with the recent announcement about changes in Open AI’s leadership; however, it seems to be clear that AI is here to stay and is quickly changing the school and workplace landscape. Composition instructors, therefore, have a choice. Fight a losing battle or change the way they teach so as to meet the needs of students and their future employers.
If I were still in the classroom, I would seek to use AI in constructive ways. Indeed, AI may prove to be a boon to overloaded, overworked, and overwrought composition teachers, helping them deal with the heavy courseloads they are given. The answer, as indeed in most things, is engagement. Have a curious and playful attitude when using AI in the classroom, discussing the ethical implications along the way.
One assignment I thought might be useful is to introduce a common topic that students in general might find relevant to their lives. Work together as a class to come up with one or two paragraphs produced by Chat GPT. Then, discuss the positive and negative aspects of the paragraphs. Also, teachers might want to pursue a discussion of the ethical considerations of students using AI. When would it be appropriate to use it? When would it be harmful? Why would it be counterproductive to submit a purely AI-written essay in any college classroom?
I asked Chat GPT to come up with a couple of paragraphs on the topic of pros and cons of mandatory classroom attendance for college students. At first Chat GPT just gave me lists of pros and cons, which seems to be its favorite style of writing, so I asked it to write the pros and cons in paragraph form. Here’s what it gave me:
College Classroom Attendance: Striking a Balance
The debate over mandatory attendance in college classrooms revolves around finding a delicate equilibrium between engagement and autonomy. On the positive side, compelling students to attend classes can create an environment conducive to active learning. In-class discussions, real-time feedback from professors, and collaborative projects thrive when students are consistently present. The communal aspect of the classroom, where ideas are shared and debated, contributes to a rich educational experience. Furthermore, mandatory attendance fosters a sense of responsibility and discipline, essential skills that students carry into their professional lives. The structure imposed by attendance policies can guide students in time management and the establishment of a routine, skills that are beneficial beyond the college environment.
However, the cons of mandatory attendance are not to be overlooked. College is a time for individuals to explore their independence and learning styles. For some, this involves engaging with course material independently, through readings, research, and self-directed study. A rigid attendance policy may stifle this autonomy, impeding students from developing the self-discipline needed for lifelong learning. Additionally, external obligations such as work commitments or family responsibilities may clash with a strict attendance policy, putting undue stress on students. In such cases, the emphasis on attendance becomes a hindrance rather than a facilitator of learning. Moreover, there’s a risk that attendance policies incentivize mere compliance rather than genuine intellectual curiosity. Students might attend classes to fulfill a requirement, but the focus on attendance metrics does not guarantee a meaningful engagement with the subject matter. Striking the right balance between encouraging attendance and respecting individual learning styles and circumstances is a nuanced challenge for educators.
I would hope some of the following points would come up in our discussion:
Paragraphs are well-written with few writing errors.
A strong thesis statement begins each paragraph.
The paragraphs are well-organized and uses effective transitions.
The paragraph is logical and makes good arguments for and against mandatory classroom attendance.
One issue is the phrase “there’s.” I teach my students to avoid contractions and the use of the expletive “there is.”
The diction in general is too formal and sounds rather pretentious for a college-level paper. Really need to get rid of “incentivize” in the second paragraph. Yuck!
The paragraphs need to be fleshed out with specific examples and details, preferably from the writer’s own experience, some things that show the pros and cons more clearly and make the paragraphs more interesting to read. With good examples, these two paragraphs could be the basis for an entire essay.
Use this opportunity to talk with students about the importance of developing their own unique voice.
Another great thing to do would be to see if any students disagree with Chat GPT. What do students think about the logic presented in these paragraphs? Encourage students to “argue” with Chat GPT or “defend” it. Maybe have a classroom debate about mandatory classroom attendance. What ideas did the classroom come up with that Chat GPT didn’t include?
Another idea is to help students brainstorm ideas about topics that they are interested in, a process that is not always easy, I found. But asking relevant questions like how to pay for college without going into debt or managing mental health without medication might spark a student’s interest and inspire them to THINK FOR THEMSELVES.
How about even being brave and venturing into controversial topics, like the difference between banning and challenging books in public schools, transgender rights, universal health care, and Black history studies. Yes, I know, it can be scary, and administrators may not thank you, but remember that college is meant for adult learners, many of whom are already wrestling in the real world with all of these topics. Furthermore, using AI may help remove some of the fallacious reasoning some students use when writing about sensitive topics. In fact, try using Chat GPT to start a discussion about fallacies of logic.
The main idea is to get them to realize that all good writing needs their real-life experiences and their own critical thinking to add interest, for the reader, sure, but especially for themselves because writing that the writer doesn’t care about will be dry as toast and not worth anyone’s time. Give students confidence in their own ideas through lively, mediated debate, and then ask them to write, by hand, if possible, right there in front of you.
Hey, Mrs. Winkler! 