When I write something and post it online, I do so with no expectation of it being read. That's not quite true. I know of three people that read most of what I write and some of it is for them. I usually write when I have to, when something has happened that upsets me. I'm not the kind of the kind of person who seeks out and praises the tiny speck of decency in a sea of corruption. I don't want to watch it get snuffed out. That's not to say that good things don't happen. They must, somewhere, I'm sure. They happen in my marriage all the time, for example. But they don't make me want to write about them. When the corrupt, incompetent, violent, or just plain wicked happen, I want to say something. Blogging lets me say them. If I hung out in a bar, I might say them there and get it out my system, but I don't go to bars. At least online, no one has to listen and my clothes don't reek of cigarettes.
Someone recently pointed out to me that a few other people have come across my blog. They were attracted by my writing about the Detroit Public Schools. I expect that my encounter with a angry young man with a gun may have something to do with that. (By the way, I've heard that at least three shootings this summer in the neighborhood of my old school were likely related to the conflict I stumbled into.) I haven't written anything about school yet, so I'll briefly catch up. I'm at a new school again. My last school was named a "Priority School" which allowed the Principal to interview us and get rid of those teachers she did not want. I was one. I was glad. Had I interviewed her, she would not have been asked back, but that is not how school reform works.
So I waited for several weeks while the central administration went through its annual exercise of shuffling hundreds of teachers from one school to another. After my experiences of the past two years, a large part of me was hoping that I would be laid off and not have to return to school. A little belt tightening and I think we could have made it. I could pick up a few dollars mowing lawns and the like. I was even thinking of writing to Teach For America and asking if they'd buy me out.
But it was not to be. I was assigned to a school and reported, expecting more of the same - chaos, incompetence, wildly out of control kids, causal violence. So far I am wrong on all counts. The school is an old fashioned elementary, meaning no middle school kids. That takes care of much of the problems. My early impression of the principal is that she is intelligent, competent, and professional.
The only black cloud on the horizon is that our student population is half last years. It seems that two years ago, the district closed a school and merged it with ours. Last year they sold the closed building to a charter school, who fixed it up with air conditioning, carpeting, and other such academic improvements. The parents who were forced to leave that school two years and travel farther to attend my school have flocked to it. If we do not add many students quickly, our staff will be cut and teachers will be sent to other schools or laid off. I might be one of those. (As it happens, the charter school is across the street from the site of a lead smelter. Location, location, location.)
So that's it on the school front, other than Mr. Bobb and the Board are awaiting a court decision that will determine who has academic control of the school system. This all stems from a poorly written law that has no chance of being corrected in Lansing during an election year. I expect Bobb will lose and chaos will return like an old friend. Bobb leaves in March 2011 and if he loses this lawsuit, which he will appeal, of course, he will be the lamest of ducks.
************************* Writing **************************************
The Annumpi Chronicles started out as a joke between me and the three readers I mentioned earlier. I enjoy writing it and am using it to learn how to write a longer narrative. I have heard authors say that characters take over their novels. That is what I'm experiencing and I like it. I've never written 6,000 - 7,000 words at time before, day after day. Right now I'm finding out what happens when you set a plot device moving that you aren't interested in (the stupid Revolution). I can see light at the end of the revolution tunnel and wish I had time to get there. Right now I would gladly quit teaching and work on this writing thing all day, but the bills must be paid.
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To The Platypus,
I hope this addresses your comment. Thanks for your interest.
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