No More Neverland, Time to Return to Normalcy.

I've felt like Peter Pan the last year and half. The rules of society did not apply to me. If I didn't want to work on a given day, I could ignore the phone calls, and stay home in my comfy clothes and live in Neverland and tell these whimsical tales online. I have to admit, I liked it.

Like any good fairy tale, though, it had to end.  The real world came calling, and I have to heed her call. So it's time to leave the land of fairies and daydreams, and fighting shadows of myself, for the daily grind of being a classroom teacher once again. And it's a little bittersweet.

Don't get me wrong. I want to work. I've never been unemployed in my life for longer than a few weeks. And even though I technically wasn't unemployed, as being a substitute teacher is a real job, it just felt like more of an adventure. Every day a new job. Every morning a potentially rude awakening. Everyday new kids, new classrooms, new subjects to pretend to be an expert in.

Being a substitute is a lot like being a leader of the Lost Boys. You can have fun with the kids, and tell funny stories, and make the lesson plan as entertaining as you can, because if you don't those same Lost Boys might turn their swords on you. Remember every substitute you had growing up? Did you respect him or her? Most likely not. So much of substitute teaching is improvising on the run, which can tap-out one's creativity.

How I've always hoped my classes would look (Better Off Dead). 

You can take the Sriracha quiz, buy merchandise, and
enjoy an enteresting and hilarious cartoon
website by visiting theoatmeal.com 

Being a sub isn't easy, but I thought it was.  Perhaps that's because I pride myself on being able to make even the driest, most unexciting lesson plan (like diagraming Finnish sentences, Canadian Parliamentary history, or memorizing the Latin names of Indian Ocean microbes) interesting by adding my personality into the mix.  I like to think of myself as Sriracha sauce in the classroom.

But too much Sriracha sauce will burn your mouth out or give you an ulcer. So having a classroom with the same kids for 18 weeks forces me to go back to a different style of teaching.  I'm fine with that. Large doses of humor, sarcasm, going off on bizarre tangents, pop culture mentions, and pseudo-psychaitry, will have to be stored away for that perfect "teachable moment." They will not be on the everyday menu.

It's fine, I know how to be serious when necessary, so the lessons that the class needs to learn, will be taught the right (effective) way.  I don't want to burn my kids out on fantastical lessons everyday. It's fun to be Pan sometimes, but the real world looks a whole lot more like Wendy's father, George Darling, the crotchety old man.

George tries to make the kids in the nursery grow up faster, by squashing their fairy tale-ish dreams, and make them more practical. It's okay for kids to dream, but it isn't reality, right? Much of George's misgivings about dreaming are derived from the fact that (in the Disney version) he is worried about losing his job...Yes, even in 1940s England, there was a shortage of jobs. Only practical, stern men, whom "children fear, and adults respect" will be successful in the real world. Hard work beats out idealism every time, right?

As an educator, it's a weird position to be in. The dreamer kids are fun to have in class, they often say the right things, and discover new ideas in books and history, and yet when it's time to formulate their thoughts on paper or assignment, they show up missing. They've used up all their pixie dust on ideas, and never got around to putting those ideas into action.

The practical kids never talk. They don't offer anything to the classroom discussions and rarely seem interested in anything happening. But when it comes time to produce, they turn in amazing work. Their essays are organized and well thought out, their projects are well crafted, their time-well spent.  In contrast, the dreamer kid is throwing it all together on the last day.

For me, the goal has always been to merge the dreamer and the rational into one coherent being.  To force my brain to add more synapses between my right and left hemispheres.  To be exciting and creative and thought provoking and funny while at the same time organized and on-time and logical and linear.

We all need a little George Darling
and a little Peter Pan in our lives. 

I fear that this is sadly lacking in youth. The ability to merge these conflicting ideas. Either I'm a math brain, or I'm an art brain, but I'm not both.  To quote Mr. Darling, "poppycock." It just takes a little hope, trust, pixie-dust, and hard work. When push comes to shove, even Peter Pan, one of the most lackadaisical characters in literary history, was able to formulate a plan to defeat Captain Hook.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------


Going back to work is a good thing.  But it will slow my blogging, writing, and social mediatizing dramatically.  I've enjoyed the last six months of building a loyal audience. I appreciate you immensely. But I haven't earned any money doing this, either. So, like Mr. Darling, its time to put my dreams of writing slightly off to the side, while I take care of my family.

Do not take this as an admission of giving up. I will forge through this tough market and find an agent/publisher and get my writing out there. Nobody ever forgets about Neverland, nobody ever forgets their dreams. And come hell, high water, or Hook, I will rescue Wendy. (Wendy in this metaphor would be my dream of being an author, although I wouldn't mind rescuing a Wendy's hamburger right now).