Blobfish - Not a Shel Silverstein drawing

A blobfish is a real creature that lives on the ocean floor.  He doesn't have very many muscles, so he just waits for his food to come to him.  Of course, I couldn't resist the temptation to write about that:

Blobfish

The blobfish has a funny way

Of catching food to eat.

He doesn’t have to chase his prey

Or even leave his seat.

He waits, instead, with confidence

A meal will catch his eye,

And thanks, in part, to Providence,

Eats matter passing by.

Fewer teachers, larger classes - are lobotomies still legal?

http://www.spokesman.com/blogs/boise/2011/jan/18/luna-outlines-plans-larger-class-sizes-fewer-teachers/

My first year teaching, I remember assessing the funnel-shaped classroom I'd have to squeeze 36 kids into, wondering how we would still be able to walk through the room.  I had eight kids on IEPs and no experience other than student teaching.  I remember taking a deep breath and telling myself that with a lot of prayer and determination, I could be certain that my students would rise to my level of expectation for them as I'd always been taught in school.  I wondered what it would be like to have a "normal" class size and whether the kids would get the education they deserved if I did.  Even as a rookie, I knew that while I'd do the best I could, it was an injustice to our children to corral them like cattle.  If we really consider the time and attention each student needs to get even a fair education, we wouldn't flippantly refer to the addition of "one or two more students" as an insignificant byproduct of a changing economy. 

Speaking of the changing economy, don't even get me started on the loss of jobs...

What Are You So Grumpy About - Tom Lichtenheld

Tom Lichtenheld delights readers of all ages in this humorous and colorful book. Children will love and relate to the grumpiness that peas touching gravy and getting underwear for your birthday create. The makers of What Are You So Grumpy About? turn everyday irritating situations into amusing scenes, like Dad taking his underwhelmed son to “the most boring museum in the universe,” (the history of dirt) or a child stubbing her toe on a curb that appears to have a smiley face. The hilarious drawings compound the humor, like a newspaper clipping that reads “Boy Lost in Grandma’s Hug” with a picture of a puzzled, oversized woman and a sign that reads “Last Seen Here” pointing toward her chest. Every scene from the chore list to the cereal boxes contains enough playful details to make even the smallest grump smile.

My children and I have the book memorized, which comes in handy when we’re away from home. At the slightest glimpse of a pouty lip, all I have to do is quote a page from the book and the grump is history.

The X-Men and Prejudice

In the spirit of excellent hero movies, X-Men: The Last Stand reveals three sides to a war based on prejudice and misinformation.  Some scenes develop the “bad guy” characters well enough to understand who to root for, but I found myself sympathizing with Magneto’s mutant soldiers.  While the humans claim to have discovered the anecdote in order to help the mutants, many are militant about enforcing its use and have a secret agenda that involves putting mutants in their place.  

Magneto’s army is made up of folks who never saw their gift as a disability in the first place.  There’s a really short blink-and-you’ll-miss-it scene where a mutant is holding onto the underside of the bridge when he gets shot with the “cure” and falls to his death.  I couldn’t help but think he was just trying to defend himself.  Then, of course, *spoiler alert* the scene where the X-Men have a brief, moral dilemma about whether to use some of the syringes against their own kind.  The movie brilliantly provokes ethical questions about prejudice including comparing one type of prejudice to another (i.e. “Easy for you to say; you don’t shed on the furniture.”)  It begs the question, “What lengths would you go to in order to fit in, be accepted, and be loved?”  Rogue justifies getting the cure because she wants to be able to touch people and, after all, who wouldn’t want that?  I couldn’t help but consider Hollywood stars who have had so many facelifts they barely look human.  I thought of a documentary on eating disorders that horrified me as a kid.  Most of the subjects were pre-teens and many died before the documentary was finished being filmed because they truly believed that a size 2 was fat.  It’s tragic how often societal prejudice can cause us to do the unthinkable.  How often do we stand up for what we believe in and protect “our kind” from prejudice?  Worse yet, how often does that inevitably make us the bad guy?  

On baldness and other things out of our control...

While staring at the back of a bald man’s head in line at Albertson’s, I couldn’t help but contemplate how we handle things that are entirely out of our own control. My grandmother swore that her late husband had gone completely bald until she started massaging his head every night, which ultimately led to the return of a full head of hair. I have no way of confirming or denying her story, but always questioned its validity, especially after discovering two years later that she had early stages of dementia. Some men embrace their baldness or hardly notice. Others shave their head, which is a look I particularly prefer to the bald spot and, if I were a balding man, would also opt for. Bald men everywhere should thank their lucky stars, in my opinion, that it’s in style. When I was a kid, my mom had a friend who suffered from a combination of baldness and vanity and could talk about nothing else for months. He finally asked her for advice on the subject and she suggested “painting” himself some hair using liquid eyeliner. It seemed to solve the problem for a few days. Did I mention that I grew up in Seattle where it rains A LOT? Needless to say, there are reasons why that trend never caught on. Personally, my favorite look is the “sweepover.” It’s as if nobody will ever guess that a man is balding if he parts his hair just above his ear and brushes it all the way over to the other side.

All this to say we all experience things out of our control and the different ways we handle them is a psychology all its own. When I decided to dissect mine, it led to how I deal with the business of getting published. Surely anyone else would have given up by now if they had spent all of their free time writing and still had nothing they could call their own to place in the hands of the readers who would love their stories. In all honesty, my first inclination is to gripe about it to anyone who will listen. I do have to give myself some credit for hanging on this long, though. Fortunately, in my case, my determination outweighs my discouragement and I will continue to see this publication thing through. I guess now would be a good time to sign off, write something of significance, and perhaps also find someone to massage my head just in case.

The Pout-Pout Fish in the Big, Big Dark

The Pout-Pout Fish takes a journey to the dark ocean floor in search of the pearl that Ms. Clam dropped when she sneezed. He promises to bring it back and is determined to keep that promise. As he ventures further into the deep, though, he finds that he must face his fear of the dark in order to do so.

This sweet, honest tale of a fish with a fear is written in rhyme with a bouncy, fun rhythm that kids will enjoy. The pictures are bright and beautiful, with a hint of whimsical humor, like the worms that are sitting and talking in the sand. Adult humor is hidden in some of the pictures, like the angler fish holding a lit-up sucker sign that says, ?Suckers here.? The fish is loveable and relatable and teaches children that it is possible to overcome their fears with the help of a good friend. Fear of the dark is a huge stumbling block for children and the story is geared toward the age group where finding friends can be difficult. It's very empowering and has already become one of my son's favorites.

Kids' Opinions

I can understand why editors don't want a query that says, "I read it to my kids and they loved it."  Their reasoning, however, is a little misled.  I get that they don't want to hear the same thing from every Tom, Dick, and Harry who feels the need to send in a manuscript.  I acknowledge that there's no way of confirming that the writer has really gotten the thumbs up from their kids.  Also, just because their kids like it doesn't mean that children everywhere will go for it.  The reasoning I don't understand is this:  "Of course your kids will tell you they like it.  What else are they going to do?  Tell you it stinks?"  Obviously this person doesn't have children.  My kids are my greatest critics.  I'm not saying I don't appreciate the people who encourage me and say that they like my writing.  There are certainly times I feel like giving up writing altogether and it helps to know that people actually like it.  When I'm ready to hear someone tell me they hate it, though, I ask my kids.  I wrote a pirate story a little while back and gave it to my nine-year-old.  He couldn't read or understand all the piratey language.  He was stumbling on the words so badly that he dropped it on the table and said, "Whatever," then ran off to play with his Legos.  A few weeks later, I revised and printed off "The Paper Airplane King," which has been sitting in my computer for about three years.  I read it out loud at the table and both of my kids asked me to read it again.  My oldest actually wanted to read it himself.  Guess which manuscript I sent in?  I've never found a shortage of honesty, truth, and downright harshness in children.  I get a lot of opinions and value all of them, but when I'm floundering, trying to get a strong, even insensitive critique, kids are a great way to go.