Month: July 2015

Books, College, Things I Said, Writing

Summer Reading: Tips for High School Students

You might remember that once upon a time I was a high school English teacher. And a damn good one at that.

I just ran across something I posted to Facebook five years ago (also the final year I was paid to stand in front of a classroom). It was a note to my students of my thoughts on the list their school (not me) sent for summer reading choices.

Look at me, still using the public library like it's my job.
Look at me, still using the public library like it’s my job.

I got a chuckle out of it today and I think it is worth reposting here. Feel free to pass this nugget along to any high school student you know who still hasn’t thought about that summer reading assignment due August 24th, especially if that assignment came with a list of classics to choose from.

* * * * *

Ok. Enough of you have written looking for my summer reading suggestions – so here are my PERSONAL thoughts. These are by no means endorsed by anyone but me. My final word is read whatever you want, but read the actual book. Don’t just read a Google summary.

I have not read (or even heard of) all the authors on your list, but it should be noted these are not ALL classics (yay) and many of these authors are still alive (hooray). Not that I don’t support the classics (hell-o, I’m an English teacher.) However, I believe classics are best studied in a group, not read independently – as it is difficult to know exactly what is so great about them without the aid of someone smarter than you telling you what to look for. If you wish to tackle the classics, you are awesome but I encourage you to read one with a friend and discuss together. Just don’t get burned-out and cease to love reading because classics are dense and difficult.

Anyway, I’ll do my best to comment on those I know personally, those I recognize, and those which are popular enough that I should probably get to know them.

Three lists:

#1: Probably worth your time:
– Sandra Cisneros (House on Mango Street is pretty good. Short, easy read and good.)
– Toni Morrison (One of Oprah’s heroes, hah – she writes “out of oppression” type stuff, but she’s generally considered good.)
– Alice Walker (The Color Purple is fabulous and also easy to read. Deals with some tough subjects ie: rape and black oppression, but I think I read it in 8th grade so you can handle it. There’s a copy in my old classroom.)
– Willa Cather (I love O Pioneers, if you are into Little House on the Prairie her stuff is is similar.)
– Cormac McCarthy (The Road is currently on my to-read list. We’ll see. His stuff is often made into movies. I think he’s a little dark and somewhat heavy. Probably a good one for guys. But he has several books published that have all been fairly popular – and I figure, if the general public is reading it and liking it, it can’t be too hard to understand. Come on. Not everyone went to private school.)
– Ian McEwan (similar popularity to McCarthy – also lots of books made into movies – though I’ve never read him my sister loved Atonement and she and I might as well be intellectual twins.)
– Jane Austen (She isn’t as obvious as Nicholas Sparks, but her romance is as endearing, if you can get through the Elizabethan Language. You might try her now, and come back to her in college, because you’ll love her more with experience. Trust me.)
– Flannery O’Connor (I loved Moll Flanders the movie. The book is probably good.)

#2: LONG and DIFFICULT (and worth considering in college because) I loved them anyway:
– Dostoevsky (on a HS reading list this is nuts… he’s Russian and the translation of his books makes all the difference in the world on readability, but even then he’s a toughy. Crime and Punishment GOOD; The Brothers Karamazov. GOOD. The Idiot. GOOD. He is fabulous when you are ready to tackle him.)
– Richard Wright (well, Black Boy is easy to read, and good. The rest of his stuff is a little racy and again, probably better in college. I will say this – Native Son involves a man killing a woman and cutting her up and putting her in a furnace and I had to read it for three different college classes, if that entices anyone.)
– Dickens (better studied with others, but again, I love him)
– Melville (Moby Dick is LONG and much of it takes place at sea, which, ulgh… not for me, but I really liked Billy Budd in college.)

#3: Shorter does not necessarily equal better (in short, snoozes) (no pun intended but don’t I rule?):
– Joseph Conrad (Heart of Darkness. Painfully short.)
– Hemingway (he’s a hit or miss with me, and usually a miss – personally. Old Man and the Sea? 100 pages? You might never finish it. No I’m serious. It’s another fishing book. Shoot me.)

Anyway, feel free to let me know what you pick. I’m always interested to hear what you are reading.

LOVE YOU ALL,

Mrs. Wait

Confessions

Mommy’s Losing It

It is 9:19am. I’ve now reheated the same mug of coffee three times. I have forty minutes before the baby wakes up and I begin the 45 minute process of getting all four children into the car so I can make it to yoga at the Y and only be 5 minutes late. Nevermind that everyone is currently fed and dressed. Nevermind that I am, for once, fed and dressed.

Pause.

Someone is crying.

Ain’t happening today folks.

“I need thirty minutes of you people playing outside. Then I can love you today.”

Didn’t happen on Tuesday either, when, despite starting at 8 o’clock, we didn’t manage to make it out of the house before 10:35 and in all that time, I didn’t have a single sip of coffee or a bite of breakfast. Pulling out of my driveway for the second time that morning I decided I’d rather eat a Dunkin Donuts breakfast sandwich in the lobby with my book than make it to yoga anyway.

Of course the lobby was overflowing with Silver Sneakers who like to arrive an hour and a half before their class begins to catch up on gossip and share senior citizen discount trade secrets.

I ducked into the empty-looking game room off the main hallway and in my surprise to see three older ladies playing bridge in the corner I blurted, “I hope there isn’t an age limit on this room. I just need a place to escape my kids and the party in the lobby so I can eat my damn breakfast in peace.”

If I offended them with the beginning of my sentence they had more than forgiven me with the eventual recognition of raw mommy desperation.

Needless to say, I didn’t read my book that morning, and I was more than just full of egg and cheese croissant when I left. I guess it’s true what they say. Though slow, and somewhat dangerous behind the wheel, senior citizens can serve a purpose in society.

Last week was no different, I’m sure of it. But somehow last week I was coping. Maybe more than coping, in fact. I was downright pleasant last week. I feel certain that it isn’t possible for my children to be more or less needy from one week to another.

And before you say, “You’re the one who wanted four kids,” I am going to take the liberty (because this is my blog) to say that four kids is really freaking difficult. In fact, remove just one kid from the equation and it is a completely different and more pleasant experience. And honestly, it doesn’t even matter which kid goes. When Eliott is gone, Carter steps up and pretends to be more responsible. When Carter is gone, nobody is fighting with Eliott or Isaiah.

When Isaiah is gone, the older girls’ mess is contained to one area (and they quietly hide it believing if I can’t hear them I’ll never know what kind of a mess they are making) and if Avery is out of the picture, well, shoot, I’m just plain happier. For all her beauty and for all my experience, that baby is a force to be reckoned with and generally speaking, a bit of a life-sucker right now. (Yes, she sleeps well. Finally. But God help us all when the woman needs anything because though she has no vocabulary, she’s more than makes up for it in sheer volume and inability to grow weary in asking.)

I have coping mechanisms. I do. And every once in a while I have a big picture perspective. I do get glimpses of the sweetness of each kid, usually once a day, and while these do not have the power of say, a Xanax washed down with Bud Light Platinum, they do make it mostly worth it as my eyelids close each night (that sweet moment of silence where I can almost pretend like tomorrow will be different and somehow better).

And certainly things could actually be worse. They have been worse. I need to remember that. I also need to, again, keep tally of the little things:

  1. Neighborhood pool not five minutes away.
  2. Access to trampoline in neighbor’s back yard, not fifty feet away.
  3. A finished basement playroom and children who both can, and will, entertain themselves, even if their only game is what I like to call “Tornado: the Aftermath.”
  4. A cleaning lady. (I’m embarrassed to admit I would be drowning without her.)
  5. The YMCA and one hundred and fifty minutes a day (times 4) of childcare should I choose to use it.
  6. Neighbors who enjoy my children more than I do.
  7. A two-year old who is quickly showing that he is as type A as his father, and manifesting this genetic curse in the form of picking up after his sisters.
  8. An 8 year old and a 6 year old who have been trained (in less than a month) to fully clean up the kitchen after every meal.
  9. Avery’s eyelashes. (I had to find something.)
  10. Discovering that the source of John’s anxiety for the last 6 months had absolutely nothing to do with circumstantial stress but was completely caused by his asthma medication (Singulair). When his prescription lapsed for three days he was halfway back to his normal self, and now, in just one month of being off the stuff, he’s functioning at 100% of his normal emotional level. This is huge people, when every other week I might be operating at a solid 30%.

It’s 9:57am. I’m going to go wake the baby, put on my shoes, top off my mostly empty mug, and perhaps be early to yoga this morning.