We all have stories about favorite teachers. You know, the teacher who took the time to encourage the version of you that hesitated to let itself be known. For me, it was Mrs. Steward in fourth grade. The best thing about that entire year was a little thing known as Friday Stories. Every Friday, Mrs. Steward held a story writing contest that forced every student to submit a short, original story. She would then read each and every story in front of the class while keeping the authors anonymous. Since this was fourth grade and not fifth or sixth, it still worked for the most part. We hadn’t fully transformed into evil, little monsters looking for any and every chance to belittle each other.
After all the stories were read, Mrs. Steward would hold a vote to crown the people’s choice. First, students would whittle the pile down to the top three favorites. From there, each student was allowed a single vote for their favorite.
Over the course of that year, I think I landed in the top three every week. With time, I learned to fashion my fiction around the likes and wants of my audience. By the end of the year, I had crafted a story that won every, single, vote from my classmates. My Ghostbusters knockoff story that included characters directly from my classroom was a walk-off grand-slam in the world series. That was when I knew I wanted to be a writer…and that I could still write stories even though I was a reluctant reader. I’ve always joked that I can write stories faster than I can read them. And this isn’t totally off the mark.
I owe a huge portion of my love and confidence for writing to Mrs. Steward. I was shy and quiet. I was weird and misunderstood. I sat in the back of the classroom and sold origami (on the black market) to classmates in exchange for their lucky bucks (classroom currency). I avoided much of the classic bullying simply by being so odd that bullies weren’t exactly sure how to bully me. I wasn’t overweight. I wasn’t excessively nerdy. I wasn’t the poorest or smelliest kid in class. When I made public statements, they were so disjointed and bizarre that lower intellect bullies were left scratching their heads much in a “loser-says-what” fashion.
Mrs. Steward encouraged my bizarre creativity, and for that I’m deeply grateful. I imagine most of us share the same sentiment for at least one teacher out there who positively impacted us at a key juncture in life. Thus my confusion over why here in Idaho, and in many pockets throughout the USA, so many people deride and undermine the contributions of the teaching profession. I’m a bit befuddled by the matter.
I hear arguments about how easy it is to get an education degree (to be fair, I got one, so indeed it can’t be that hard), how easy of a job it is, how lazy tenured teachers are, and how shiftless the teachers’ union is, and how all of these things justify smearing teachers with accusations of being manipulative, neurotic, evil groomers of our precious children…when instead teachers should just cram our kids’ brains full of the specific information each parent prefers their child be imprinted with while helping them to navigate puberty in a way that doesn’t interfere with the parents’ careers or hobbies. Oh, and these deviant teachers need to respect my political views and alter their teaching methods to accommodate!
Now I’ve gone and done it. I’ve taken what started out as a cute tale of nostalgia and perverted it into an old man rant. For that, I apologize. I suppose I should end with a pledge to reach out to all my teacher friends and let them know that I personally don’t think they are evil minions sent on the Satanic errand of dementing the next generation. I’m sure that will put a big, ole smile on their faces, and on mine too.
(Let me know if my evil plan to dement the minds of this generation is working…mwa-ha-hah.)
At the Desk This Week
Nothing new to note as far as my writing career is concerned. So nothing really from the desk this week. I have experienced a bit more progress in figuring out my future direction, so that’s been fun. The process/journey is grand and I’m remaining mindful of that. Thanks for reading each week. I hope you and yours are doing well.
If You Wish to Start Reading The Green Ones…
[Click here to start at the beginning.]
Thanks so much for taking the time to read these scenes of Boundaries, Season 2 of The Green Ones. I’ll be publishing FREE daily scenes from The Green Ones until…I die…or something terrible happens. Seriously, I’ve got over 100 scenes written so far, and I’ll be writing more until the story reaches its natural ending. You are totally welcome to read the entire story for FREE! If at any point you decide you would rather finish the story in ebook or print format, just click the buttons below and you can do that as well. If you enjoy reading the serial releases, BUT you would also like to support me as a writer (my kids need wine!) please subscribe to my premium content for bonus scenes, exclusives, and insider access to my process. And of course, I’d be grateful if you would share this post with any of your reader friends who you think would enjoy The Green Ones. Happy reading!