Thursday, January 28, 2021

Pea Coats, Flannel Shirts and Turtleneck Sweaters

A few weekends ago, my wife and I were watching television. Instead of catching up on WEST WING or OZARK, we stumbled upon the movie THE BROTHER'S MCMULLEN, a movie made in the 90s that reeks of the 90s. So naturally we watched it and I found myself falling into the warm embrace of nostalgia. 

It's not a bad movie. There were thematic elements that spoke to the twenty-two year old me. 1995 wasn't a good year for me. I was listless, alone and miserable. I dreamed of being a writer without putting in the work. I connected to the characters. Barry's longing for the right woman, his younger brother's struggles with his Catholicism and the lasting affect their abusive father left on them. All that kept me tuned in and I certainly could write a long piece about that, but as you can guess by the title of this, that's not what I want to do. I want to write about pea coats, flannel shirts and turtleneck sweaters. 

Now, these three items are timeless but they reached their fashion peak in the 90s, a decade's fashion that was muted when compared to the 70s or 80s. I defy you to name a better look than a turtleneck sweater and a pea coat. You know those memes where the compare the way Millennial dress to Cary Grant or Sean Connery? You notice they don't try that with a pea coat and turtleneck. 


 See, I told you. 

I always liked turtlenecks. I was a skier in high school, so I always wore turtlenecks under my sweaters. The first time I saw them combined, it was a revelation. I felt like a World War 2 British commando when I wore them.I'm sure if I looked now I could find one but I'm more of a Henley man now. 

If you know me at all, you know I love flannel. Flannel will never go away. It may wane and wax in stylishness, but it will always exist. 

Pea coats were my jam. I loved them. Still love them. I was obsessed with them before it was cool. 

The high collar. The double-breasted, wide lapels. The buttons. They are just cool. They make a statement. I've included a variation of them in every fantasy story that I write because they are that book. I've owned a pea coat. I'm a different person when I wear one. They look good on me. I can be anything when I'm wearing them. A magic-wielding warrior. A secret agent. That cool teacher that still wears his scarf after he's taken his coat off. (Okay, okay, I've been that guy.) There's power in that coat. 

Now, if I could just find a pair of Levi's Silver Tab Button-fly jeans.

Saturday, January 23, 2021

Bad Input

 Growing up there was a movie called SHORT CIRCUIT. It was a classic story. A military robot is struck by lightning and it erases his programming. He escapes from the military and goes on a quest for "input." In many ways, like the robot in the movie, writers are seeking input. People are a lot like Johnny Five (the name the robot gives himself). We need input. 



I've been having trouble writing lately. I just can't seem to get traction on anything. It happens periodically. I'll take something for a test drive then scrap it. I'd love to give some big, writerly reason, but truthfully it's that the project just isn't working for me. I was discussing my troubles with my friend Brian and I mentioned that 2020 wasn't a great reading for me. Brian agreed and it got me thinking about a connection between the two. And there is. 

For you to have good output, you need good input. 

It's not rocket science. Stephen King says that you can't be a good writer without being a good reader and he's right. Unlike previous years, nothing in 2020 grabbed me in a way to move me. I can't remember the last book that did that. But it's not just reading, it's everything. I didn't even write a year in review post, because who wants to review this year?

The pandemic shut EVERYTHING down, drastically reducing our input. Movies and televisions shows screeched to a halt. Even sports for the most part were gone. There was nothing new coming in. I mean you can only watch The Mystery of the Abandoned and make sourdough so many times. With that in mind, it's not hard to see why I'm struggling with good output. My input has kind of sucked. 

So how do I fix this? 

I don't know. I mean I have ideas. Do I revisit what inspired me before or do I keep trying to find things to inspire me? I don't know if there's a good answer. I keep saying to myself that I want to write something that the thirteen-year-old me would've liked. I'm still hunting for the input to inspire that. 

For now, I just have to keep grinding and maybe I'll find it. 

Friday, January 15, 2021

Stop Arguing. No Seriously, Can We Stop Arguing?

 I'm so tired of arguments...more accurately argument writing. As a "writing teacher" (or a teacher that writes) I am frustrated by the absurd focus on argument writing in our present writing curriculum. I'm fucking tired of it. All the writing we seem to do in school now is argument writing and then we wonder why kids hate writing. 

The focus on argument writing isn't our decision, I assure you. If given the choice, any writing teacher worth their salt wouldn't use it as the entire basis for an entire writing curriculum but because some expert that likely hasn't been in a classroom in at least a decade declared it the end all, be all of writing the misguided, short-sighted people that run our state education system have decided that it should be the focus for not only English classes, but ALL classes. 


It's especially relevant to me as an English teacher since most years we give the NYS ELA Regents three times a year where the "argumentative essay" counts as 40% of the exam's grade and therefore 40% of one of their English graduation requirements. It's a major concern to many of my colleagues that teach grades 9-11 where much of the focus is preparing them for that state test. They need to focus on it or many of our students won't pass, therefore preventing their graduation and dinging us not just once but twice with the state of New York, as we are judged on graduation rate and ELA scores. It's reduced writing instruction to teaching formulas for meeting the rubric requirements and little else.

I loathe formulaic writing. (To me the words "five paragraph essay" are the equivalent of the f word and the c word having a baby raised by every racial epithet.) It binds and constricts. It also does the exact job it intends to do: create generations of rubber stamps. Everyone writes the same because that is the expectation. There is no deviation. No voice. No audience. Just the form and function. And that's killing me. Slowly. Every day. 

I don't blame my colleagues. They are doing what they need to do so we can stay on the up and up with the state. (And they do an amazing job of doing it.) Our school has so many chips stacked against it we look like poor Mike McDermott facing Teddy KGB in ROUNDERS (the first time). The thought is that we HAVE to teach formula because we have kids that are four or five grade levels behind in reading or ENL students required to achieve an impossible level of proficiency in a language they are just starting to learn. (Along with occasional learned helplessness.) It's worked to get many kids through the test but I can't help but wonder if we're doing more damage than good by doing this. I think the answer is an obvious yes. 

For kicks, I went back and pulled out the Regents I took when I was in 11th grade. (For official purposes, it was the June 1990 exam.) I can't tell you right now what I got on it and I'm not going to go to my old school to get my transcript to see. We can assume that I passed (I only took it once) and for now we can leave it at that. (Seventeen-year-old John was a different creature than forty-seven year old John, so I may not have been as successful as I think I was.) The test was vastly different and I would say that while it was more vigorous, it wasn't as constricting. I also remember that English 11 wasn't Argumentative Test Prep 11. 

There was a listening part and three reading comprehension passages....not too different from the present test.  There was a spelling section and a vocabulary section. (I would imagine that vocab was an integral part of our 11th grade material.) But it was the writing where things diverged. You were given choice in what you wrote. A respectable 55% of your grade came from writing. You had to essentially write two "essays" of about 250 words. The first writing part was a straight up literary analysis, but you were given two choices of how to frame your analysis of something you read, presumably during the school year. (I don't remember what I wrote about.) This was worth 25%. A whopping 30% was dedicated to what was basically a free composition of your choice. You were given eight options...EIGHT! They ranged from a position piece (close to an argumentative essay but not quite) to an assortment of personal narratives. (Again, I'm not sure what I wrote about, but I have a notion it was something out of the ordinary.) Not to sound like the "get off my lawn" guy, but there was an emphasis on writing that the student chose. Writing that the student wanted to do. I don't know what our students would do with that much freedom. I don't know, maybe pass?

Why did we move away from choice? Why did we hem students in with just two essays to write with absolutely no choice in what they are writing about? It's about conformity to a system. 

Last year I read a phenomenal book called WHY CAN'T THEY WRITE and it's a mind altering (if not life changing) book. One of the suggestions the author makes is  letting student write what they want. That's not to say we can't assign specific types of writing, but freedom of choice is paramount to a student's success in writing. We pontificate about differentiation and culturally responsive teaching yet when it comes to writing we will square peg-round hole our students for the sake of a stupid test meant to shape everyone into a round hole. It's beyond frustrating. Teachers are handcuffed by the belief of whichever member of the Board of Regents decided this was the most efficient way to measure student success in writing. Again, it's no wonder our kids hate to write. 

Most of my colleagues think I'm nuts. I can HEAR their eyes rolling when I open my mouth during online meetings. Maybe I should just follow the advice I've been given most of my life and just shut my mouth. 

Yeah, I doubt that too.