Book Review: Gathering Blue

I first came across this book when I was teaching at a school in Saskatchewan. I was subbing and it

wikipedia

was time for quiet reading, so I took up the book lying on the teacher's desk and got lost in Lois Lowry's riveting novel. I later learned that Gathering Blue fits into Lowry's Giver series, but while there are overlapping circumstances and characters, each book can be read and enjoyed on its own.

Gathering Blue begins with the death of Kira's mother, Katrina. Kira sits for four days in the Field of Leaving until her mother's spirit departs. Then she must return to her noisy, crowded village where the small cott she and her mother shared has been burned to the ground to fight the spread of illness. Not only that, but Vandara, a cruel and rough neighbour, demands Kira forfeit her land and leave the village.  Kira was born with a twisted leg, which usually leads to abandonment, but Kira's mother fought for her life. Kira uses her wit to survive a near-stoning and demands Vandara bring her petition before the Council of Guardians.

I loved the way this dystopian novel feels like it could be set in the past.  Rather than focusing on amazing technologies that replace humans, Lowry imagines a reversion to a hunting and gathering existence.  Kira and the other characters described in this novel are simple, yet fully developed.  I also adored the detail Lowry used to describe Kira's special gift in sewing, weaving and dying fabric.  Lowry writes a satisfying ending which ties the novel to The Giver, Messenger and Son.

I reread this book with the intent on studying Lowry's use of language and description, but was soon too wrapped up in the story. I think this is an incredible feat, especially when I already knew the ending. Twice this week, reviewers of my writing said I write for in a Young Adult style. At first, this was disheartening.  Then, I remembered Gathering Blue and decided writing for young adults is an honour.  Books I read at this time of life are the ones I remember most and had the most impact on the rest of my life. I highly recommend Gathering Blue to any reader, Young Adult or otherwise.  

"Something that will amaze the whole room"

``Both,'' replied Elizabeth archly; ``for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. -- We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb.''  Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Vol. 1 Chapter XVIII

This is one of my favourite quotes from Pride and Prejudice.  It's one of those precisely-worded descriptions that make me say "Yup, that's me."  So maybe that's why, 15 years later, the following still bothers me. 

In order to get into the College of Education, I had to pass an interview.  The three experienced teachers tasked with letting me into the college asked me the following perplexing question:  

"If you had a teacher friend tell you she didn't want to continue teaching because it is too difficult nowadays, what would you tell them?"

I wonder how Subgirl would have
answered the question?

My answer was something like this.  "Firstly, I would tell them they should probably talk to their principal because I'm not even a teacher yet, so I'm probably not the best person to give advice.  Secondly, I might tell them teaching has always been difficult.  While families today may struggle more with divorce and remarriage than in the past, I know my grandfather went to a one-room school house where one teacher taught 50 students in all grades.  Most of her students spoke only German while she only spoke English."

Their blank stares and puzzled expressions told me this was not the answer they were looking for.  I failed to "amaze the whole room."  

I still think I gave a fine answer.  I would love to know the answer they were actually looking for.  

I made it into the College of Education and have had many wonderful years of teaching, but it's just something that pops up once in a while and makes me wonder. 

Avoiding Volunteer-Fatigue: The Yes-Woman becomes the No-Woman

When we first moved here, I decided to try to say yes to opportunities as much I could.  I was no longer working full time and I had free time to spare.  This is very unlike me.  My natural go-to answer is no, so I think it was a stretching exercise and a great way to meet people in our new community.  However, once January hit, I was faced with the feeling that things are getting a bit too busy.  I was wishing someone would make me one of those lists that help you prioritize where to spend your free time, but instead of looking for one, I thought I'd make one for myself.  I kind of love making lists and I thought it would be more meaningful and valuable to create my own.

I know, I know.  I really need to fit some drawing lessons into my schedule.  I'm supposed to be sticking my tongue out as a sign of deep concentration while I try to figure out how to squeeze something else into the calendar.  Sideways faces are hard.  Also, why are my arms always so long?  

Keep in mind, I don't currently work outside of the home.  When I was a full-time teacher, all I did, volunteer-wise, was to occasionally help with Sunday School at our church and lead a Writer's group.  The Writer's group was really one of my favourite things to do and Sunday School was honestly the bare-minimum way to be involved in my children's education.

For this time in my life, here is my attempt at a priority list of where to spend my volunteer time while still providing enough time to go for walks, meet with friends, read, and write:

1.  Do something you love.  Make sure you have at least one way to volunteer that doesn't feel like work or volunteering.  You should always have something to look forward to.  For me right now, it is volunteering to read with some of the students in my son's class.  Helping kids learn to read and write was my favourite thing about teaching.  I've collected a good set of strategies over the years and I don't want to lose them.  Meeting with kids one-on-one is the best.  You have time to listen to their stories and still get work done.  I always found it frustrating that, even with a small class, there wasn't nearly enough time to listen to all the things kids wanted to tell me.

2.  Be part of a committee.  I have spent a lot of my time doing solitary things.  Writing is largely solitary, playing the piano was solitary, figure skating had some opportunities to work in a group, but was mainly a lone sport, in my experience.  Even teaching has a large element of independent work; although, fortunately, I learned early-on the importance of leaning on colleagues for ideas and support.  Being part of a committee has it's frustrations and even drama, but working through problems and brainstorming new ideas can be very rewarding and good for the brain.  I am the secretary for our school's P.A.C.  Sort of a sweet spot for a writer!

3.  Do something challenging.  (AKA Do something you don't entirely like).  I'm not absolutely convinced of this one and I certainly don't want to advertise that I don't enjoy any of the volunteer work I do.  However, I think there is something to be gained in sacrifice.  Even the volunteer areas you do enjoy likely have some aspect that is annoying or yucky.  Hopefully this will stretch you in a way that you can actually see the good in what you're doing. This does not mean doing something you don't agree with.  There must be merit in what you have volunteered for.  Perhaps you can help to work out the kinks to make the job a better one.  If nothing else, it may inspire some interesting writing!

That's all.  I only wanted three things.  I think I'm now ready to read someone else's list.  How do you prioritize where you spend your time?  Also, do you disagree with any part of my list?  Thanks!

Subgirl: Chapter One with Critical Thinking Questions

Time for another instalment of a chapter from one of my books.  I have previously posted the first chapter of Subgirl, which is written for middle grade readers.  However, this time, it comes with a new drawing as well as some critical thinking questions to be used by teachers, parents or young readers who want more interaction with the book.  I'm working on creating questions and projects for each chapter as a novel study.  Thanks to my colleague Kelli for the idea!  Here's the first chapter:

Chapter One:  Introductions

            There are so many reasons why I, Jordana Simkins, am an odd twelve-year-old, it’s hard to know where to begin.  My appearance would be the first thing you would notice, so perhaps I’ll start there. 

            I’m taller than most girls my age.  In fact, I’m taller than many grown women, including my mother.  While I was at school, this was often an embarrassing fact, especially when I had to dance the polka with short Marty Henderson in gym class.  You’ll notice I used the past tense when I referred to my school days.  I’ll get to that in a minute.  But soon after my twelfth birthday, my height began to be an asset – which is something that is good and helpful.

            I also have impossible fine brown hair which refuses to do anything but lie flat against my skull.  I generally wear it in two long braids down my back, but my mother is forever trying to curl and style my hair in the most outrageous ways.  This too would prove to be an asset in my twelfth year. 

            Another oddity is my thick, thick glasses.  Even after the lenses are shaved down to make them as thin as possible they are over a centimeter in width.  All the other girls my age with glasses are allowed to wear contact lenses and often experiment with various colors; including violet which makes them look rather peculiar, but I have an astigmatism, which means my eyes are shaped more like footballs than soccer balls, which for some reason makes wearing contact lenses impossible.

            Finally, while I have many other abnormal features, I don’t really enjoy talking about them, so I will just briefly mention that I have size 11 feet.  I know, you’re probably rolling on the floor laughing hysterically right now.  It will only make you laugh harder to know that having such large feet often causes me to be clumsy, but is it really fair to laugh at people for things over which they have absolutely no control?  I’m sure you have some part of your anatomy which is a bit strange too. 

            Anyway, it turns out that it is not very common for girls to have size 11 feet.  It’s a better size for a 17-year-old boy or maybe a clown, but the shoe companies interested in twelve-year-old girls do not even consider size 11 as a possibility.  Instead, I have to buy shoes for teenaged boys or shop in specialty shoe stores for woman with large feet.  Apparently, these women don’t care what their shoes look like because all the shoes in these stores are horrible.  Needless to say, I don’t enjoy shoe shopping.

            In all fairness, my peculiarities should stop here.  The rest of me should be normal, normal, normal.  But as my father has taught me since I could talk, which was rather earlier than other children (but I’ll get to that later), life isn’t fair and my differences go beyond my looks.

            Speaking of my father, my parents are both rather unique themselves.  Dad is a rocket scientist and if I could tell you how many times I’ve been told “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist” to figure something out or to do something or to turn on a light bulb, you wouldn’t believe me.  It’s Dad’s favourite joke. 

            “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to raise a baby girl, Jordana, but it sure helps!” 

For fun, my Dad builds canoes and rocking chairs in our basement with his fellow rocket scientist friend, Mr. Leopold.  My Dad and Mr. Leopold also enjoy puns, which are terrible jokes involving playing with words that are just barely funny, and if I have the misfortune of going downstairs to bring my Dad a phone message or a snack, I am inundated with puns, meaning I have to stand there for a really long time pretending I think my Dad and Mr. Leopold are funny.  Dad will say something like this:

            “Hey Leo, can you give me a hand with this rocking chair?”

            And Mr. Leopold will reply, “But that would leave me with only one!”

            “Ho, Ho, Ho,” they will chuckle while I stand there waiting for them to take the cups of coffee I am trying to give them.

            My mother is equally eccentric.  Although I’m not at liberty to tell you exactly what she does, I can tell you she is heavily involved in the political world and that she often travels and spends many hours at her computer writing letters in foreign languages and encrypting emails to numerous people in similar positions.

            When she isn’t working hard or traveling, my mother loves baking extravagant desserts.  The only problem is that she always gets distracted by a long distance phone call or a triple-encrypted urgent email so that her baking is disgustingly ruined.  But no matter how badly she ruins a dessert, she always freezes her creations in our giant walk-in freezer which takes up the other half of our basement.

So, between my father and mother, we have a house filled with half-baked goodies, canoes and rocking chairs.  I often suggest we try selling some of my parents’ creations, but they just smile at one another, give me a hug and say “We don’t do it for money, darling.  We love what we create, just like we love you and would never sell you no matter what.” 

They’re so weird.  How can I help being a little strange?

            My mother also strives to share her knowledge of foreign languages and so at any given time of the day or night, she will call out a word from among the fourteen languages she reads and writes fluently and ask me to translate:

            “Filaki!” she will say when she comes to my room to say goodnight.

            “Greek for kiss.”  I will reply and she’ll give me an approving kiss goodnight.

            And if you haven’t put down this book yet in fear of my freaky family, I’ll now add the final nail to my coffin, proving how very bizarre I am so that you would never, ever wish to be my friend.  I’m incredibly smart.  Embarrassingly so.  I learned to say the alphabet by my first birthday.  I could add double digits at the age of two and multiply at three.  By the time I started Kindergarten, which was at age four, they made an exception for me, I could read chapter books, do long division and write in paragraph form.

            Kindergarten was a bit of a snap for me, so they bumped me into grade one halfway through the year.  I was still miles ahead of the other children so my parents suggested I tutor children when it was appropriate.  I did – not only grade one students, but grade two and three as well.  When I was five, I completed grades two, three and four and when I was six, I finished elementary school.

            This is when my height became an asset.  At the age of seven, I was already five feet tall and not even the shortest kid in grade seven.  I finished grades seven and eight that year and edited the junior high newspaper. 

By the time I was ten, I had written and aced my grade twelve diploma exams.  The university registrars scratched their heads at my application to attend first year classes.  They decided it would upset the morale of the other students to have a ten-year-old in their classes.  Instead, they agreed to have me take classes by correspondence. 

Within two years, I graduated with a four year degree in education.  I had always helped other students during my school years and so education seemed like a natural step for me.  I even fit in a four-month teaching internship where I learned how to work with a full class of students rather than just a small group.

            During my internship, I learned a lot about classroom management, which is the way teachers get kids to sit down and listen when they would rather be running around the room.  I had a wonderful classroom teacher to work with in a grade one classroom.  Four months was the amount of time I spent in grade one my first time around, so it was good to have a refresher course.

            At the age of twelve, I had a decision to make – study towards a masters and PhD or take up teaching.  I enjoyed my internship so much that I chose to teach.  I’ve always loved helping others learn and I was tired of taking my classes alone in my room.  I was ready to be in a classroom again.

            Again, I puzzled administrators with my request.  A twelve-year-old had never been on the payroll before – in fact it is illegal, where I live, to work for pay until a person is fourteen-years old.  My parents made an arrangement where I would substitute teach towards a scholarship fund.  I would only teach grades one to four so that I would not be too close in age to my students.  All of the administrators but one agreed to this arrangement. 

            Ms. Luella Trites is the vice-superintendent of our school division.  It is fitting that her name, Luella, means “renowned in battle”.  She is a fearsome-looking woman with perfectly manicured nails, hair that never moves, and ramrod straight posture.  She tried everything to keep me from teaching in the school system, but in the end, she was outvoted by the superintendent who thought the schools would benefit from a role model like me. 

My parents have always been with me when I have to see Ms. Trites, but I’m afraid that one day I may run into her on my own.  I’m dreading that day.

            Despite Ms. Trites’ best efforts, I will now enter the life of a substitute teacher before most girls start baby-sitting.  So, that brings me to today – my first day of teaching.

Critical Thinking Questions:

I'd love to know if you or one of your kids used these questions.  You can post your responses in the comment section and I will reply!  You can also let me know if you have better questions or ways to ask these questions.

Why does Jordana think she is odd?
Write about why you think Jordana is or isn’t strange.
Find three interesting words in this chapter.  Draw a picture or use words to explain what they mean.
Draw a picture of what you think Jordana and/ or one of her parents look like.  Make sure you use the descriptions in Chapter One.
What adult job do you think you would be good at right now?  What skills do you have that would make you good at that job?

Reader's Theatre for Volunteer Tea

I made good use of teaching blogs while teaching grade two this year.  In an effort to give back, I thought I'd post the Reader's Theatre I wrote for my class to perform at our annual Volunteer Tea.  The students made tissue paper flowers which I researched on Google.  I wanted a Reader's Theatre to go with this beautiful flowers, but had no luck finding any on the internet.  "Wait a minute!" I said to myself.  "I'm a writer.  Why not write my own?"  You can find the entire script below.  It ends by saying the children begin to sing.  We sang "All In The Golden Afternoon" from the Disney version of Alice in Wonderland.  I downloaded the sheet music from musicnotes.com

Volunteer Tea Reader’s Theatre

Grade 2

Roses: Oh my, what a glorious day, but we’re so thirsty.

Tulips: We are too.  If only someone would water us.

Violets: We heard a group of volunteers were coming to our garden today.

Roses:  What are volunteers?

Violets:  Volunteers are wonderful!

Tulips:  They do whatever it takes to help us grow.

Roses:  Like what?

Violets:  They water us when we’re thirsty.

Roses:  Ahhh.  That would be nice.

Tulips:  And they read to us to help us learn.

Violets:  They even feed us when we’re hungry.

Roses:  That sounds fantastic.  Where do these volunteers grow?

Tulips:  They grow all over the place.

Violets:  But they have special hearts.

Roses:  What kind of hearts?

Tulips:  Hearts filled with kindness.

Violets:  Hearts that are caring.

Tulips:  Hearts that are patient.

Violets: And hearts that are daring!

(Volunteers Enter)

Roses:  We think we hear them! 

Tulips:  We can’t wait!

Volunteers enter carrying watering cans, plant food and books.  The flowers sway with happiness and sing.

Shaping Characters: A comparison of teaching and writing

After a month of nearly full-time teaching, I had a small epiphany.  I have been feeling quite fulfilled by my teaching job.  I had thought I would be pining to write as I worked on lesson plans and assessment.  I have had my moments -- when I finished a short story one weekend and all I wanted to do was to write ten more.  When I heard an author interviewed on the radio and wanted to get straight to work on my next novel.  However, I've found several similarities in my two careers which enable me to be content in either line of work.

In teaching, I get to create lessons.  I write them out, daydream about them and anticipate sharing them with my students.  This is very much like outlining a plot and dreaming about what is to come. 

Secondly, I am working with children, having a small hand in shaping their characters.  I get to interact with them and celebrate their learning and empathize with their frustrations.  While my fictional characters are fictional, I often feel like they are real.  I have even more say about how their characters will develop and I certainly feel their highs and lows.

Lastly, in both writing and teaching I get to share some of myself with others.  Although I write fiction, it is heavily laced with my own experiences.  Now that I have been publishing my writing, others are able to read about this and often respond to me about their own experiences in similar situations.  This is very satisfying.  In the classroom, I often share my own stories of learning and growing up.  My students share their own stories and we have another thread of connection.

And so, to those who say "Those who can not do, teach", I say "You are so wrong!"  Teaching is reciprocal and fulfilling if the teacher is willing to put his or her heart into the job.  It should be said that "Those who do, should teach!" 

My other career

After seven years of subbing, applications and interviews, I have acquired a teaching job!  This is great and I'm thrilled, but I'm worried my writing will now move to the back burner.  I know it will. 

While I was typing out long range goals and lesson plans during the summer, I was also writing at a maddening pace.  I had begun a novel in April and was determined to have the first draft finished before school started. Goal acheived!  I did one read through with edits and have now passed it on to family members to read while I get to know my class and get on top of my planning. 

I hope to have my next book ready by spring.  I believe I mentioned that it has ties to Jane Austen's book Emma.  I can't wait to have it out and to get started on something new.  In the mean time, I'll be learning right along with my students and trying to fit in a little writing here and there.  Happy New School Year everyone!