Fire!

I have to admit, I’m pretty relieved to see this story arc come to an end. Sometimes I’m proud of my work and sometimes I’m not. This chunk falls under the “not” category, and if I was a professional cartoonist I would never have published it. When you’re a full time teacher and part time writer who does cartooning on th side, though, you don’t really have the luxury of scrapping full storylines because you’re not satisfied with them.

So I guess the moral of the story is, if anyone really enjoys Halos and wants to see it improve a lot, you should get in touch with me and offer me, oh, a hundred grand to quit my job. I take paypal. ;)

I have decided that it’s absolutely essential that I learn to fire dance. Fortunately, I have decided this with a plastic staff and not something with fire at each end, because each time I schwaked myself in the back of the head learning a forward weave, I realized it was probably better that the staff wasn’t in flames. Otherwise I would be in the hospital, not on my computer. All I have to show for my efforts so far is a bruised hand, though (don’t ask).

At any rate, school has been a lot of fun so far this year. We’re having a big bake sale next week to raise money for Operation Christmas Child,and then I get to take 23 eight year olds shopping at the Dollar Store. Actually, I’ve done it before and it’s really a lot of fun. Plus, I get to knock out a pile of our curriculum in one blow: religion, social, language, math, and health. One activity, about twenty objectives, and the kids think they’re having fun, not learning.

This year Operation Christmas Child developed some really cool curriculum resources, too. They’ve always had little things — stickers, certificates of achievement, so on. But this year they sent us a curriculum guide and a CD-ROM with a bunch of slide shows on it aimed at the kids. They’re basically pre-made power point lessons, including some mini videos of places that the shoeboxes will end up. The kids love it, and I love it because I don’t have to do any work.

If you teach, I HIGHLY recommend it as a service project. It’s fun, worthwhile, and related to most curriculums — what more can you ask for??

Raunch Culture and Comics

Once again, this is an article I’ve shared with the good folks over at Tomorrow’s Trust. And you get a comic, too, just because I like you. :)

The Rise of Raunch Culture

It’s a strange fact of teaching that you wind up reading magazines that are three, four, or even five years old. It’s no longer safe to give your students a magazine to leaf through and look for pictures to use in collages or art –- even the most benign are apt to have some pretty strange things going on in the advertisements –- so we wind up flipping through ourselves and yanking anything that looks appropriate. And in the process, we spot articles that catch our interest.

That’s how I wound up reading a three-year-old issue of Maclean’s magazine – an issue from September 26, 2005. Lots of references to Hurricane Katrina. Some out-of-date political commentary. And an article referencing a book by Ariel Levy called Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture.
Or, as the magazine cover so succinctly puts it, “how it became cool to treat yourself like a piece of meat.”

The most frightening aspect of the article, which analyzes the increasingly exhibitionist behavior of modern women (including the intriguing observation that it’s no longer enough to be “beautiful,” you have to be “hot”), involved high school students. We’ve all seen high school girls dressing in, shall we say, less than appropriate ways. Maybe as teachers and parents, as responsible adults, we’d like to turn a blind eye to it – make excuses: it’s just fashion, and they don’t really know what they’re doing.

But Levy’s interviews with young women seem to indicate otherwise. Teenage girls freely admit to giving lap dances at parties and making out with other girls solely to attract boys, all competing to look the sleaziest they possibly can. So why are they doing it? Is it a form of sexual liberation?

One girl’s response to Levy answers that question loud and clear. When told that not so long ago, such extreme exhibitionism would have gotten you ostracized, not idolized, a teenage girl retorted, “How did you get the guy? Charm?”

How did you get the guy? Well, there’s the issue in a nutshell, isn’t it? As a Catholic teacher, it terrifies me to see ten, nine, eight year old girls coming to school in tube tops, stiletto heels, and worse. As any teacher, that should be kind of scary. I really don’t think we need to be sexualizing small children. This isn’t a matter of some sort of Catholic repressionism, it’s common sense.

This puts us in a unique place as teachers. How on earth do you teach your girls to respect themselves and their bodies in the midst of a culture where success seems to be measured by how many boys you attract and how many pounds you lose? I’m not even talking about sexual choices here. I’m talking about maintaining some sort of dignity and respect, not only for yourself, but for other women.

That puts teachers in a very awkward position. At the age of eight, some of our students are already mimicking older sisters in how they dress, speak, and think. Sometimes they’re even mimicking parents, aunts, or cousins. So what to do?

Well, there are three things we can at least try:

1.     We can set a good example ourselves. I’m not trying to mandate a maximum skirt length here or anything like that. I just mean that if we’re female teachers, we need to display respect for our bodies and those of other women, and if we’re male, we need to make sure we’re treating women with respect.

2. We can try to instill a sense of self-worth in students. Do what you can to convince them that they’re valuable for reasons outside their bodies, and make sure male AND female students see themselves as individuals with souls, not just creatures of flesh and blood.

3. We can be aware of the issues facing young people, especially women, these days, and address them – maybe not in grade three, but certainly as they grow older.

Beyond that, we’re at the mercy of a society that tells these kids to value themselves solely on what they look like. In the face of that, all you can really do is pray.

I’m a day early :)

This weekend is Canadian Thanksgiving (well, not the weekend, technically), so I’m off to Saskatoon tomorrow, which is why I’m posting a bit early. I think, somehow, that life will go on.

I can HIGHLY recommend a book I just finished, Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book. It was classic Neil Gaiman and gave me a good feeling inside: I really loved it, the way I loved Gaiman’s earlier works. Definitely read it, especially with Halloween approaching!

Anyway, I’m reposting a bit I did for Tomorrow’s Trust below — enjoy!

At our school’s recent opening mass, the priest told a familiar story: that of a master carpenter on the verge of retirement. The man’s boss asked him to build one last house as a personal favor. With ill grace, the carpenter agreed. But as time went on, it became apparent that the carpenter wasn’t giving the job his all – or anything like it. In fact, the carpenter used shoddy materials and did a generally haphazard job in his construction, his only goal to finish this last job and get on with his retirement.

Many people already know the moral to that story: when the man finishes the house and hands the key to his boss, he’s told that the house is the boss’ gift to the carpenter, a final present for a job well done. And of course, the man is forced to face the fact that he has built his own house without the talent and ability he could have put into it.

I think teaching is a lot like building that house. It’s easy, especially at difficult times, to wash your hands of a certain student: to say that if they don’t want to learn, let them slip by. But the question arises: would you say the same thing about your own child? Or would you do everything you could to make sure they gathered the full benefit of their education?

If children are houses (and you have to admit, sometimes talking to them does bear some resemblance to chatting with a brick wall), we have the same choice as the carpenter. We can do a shoddy job and let them slip by, secure in the knowledge that they aren’t ours. But what happens at the end of our journey? Do we face the fact that our students were the houses we built, the houses we have to live in?

At the beginning of the year it’s easy to say something like that. In six months time, though, it gets a lot harder. The kid who sits at the back of the room shooting you dirty looks and refusing to pay attention, the one who throws erasers at other kids the second your back is turned, the ones who never do homework… yeah, it’s tempting to let them slide.

But whose house are we building? And whose work are we doing?

From a Catholic perspective, God isn’t willing that any of his children be lost. That refers to us, and it refers also to them. To paraphrase C. S. Lewis, if God hasn’t given up on us, then I guess we can’t give up on our students… no matter how tempting they might make it.

So when the year becomes difficult, remember that you might be constructing your own children, your own future. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and keep on plugging. Teaching is a frustrating job, no doubt about it.

But the potential rewards are beyond imagination.

You Know You’re a Teacher When…

I’ve written a post like this before, but I did one up for Tomorrow’s Trust so I thought I’d reproduce it here, along with your weekly comic, of course!
Enjoy!

You know you’re a teacher when…

In all of my “spare” time (which, as a teacher, consists mainly of the five minutes between the afternoon dismissal bell and the time when the phone starts ringing), I often think about the ups and downs of the teaching profession, especially in a Catholic school. And because making lists is far more interesting than actually, you know, working, the other day I sat down and made up a list of some subtle hints that mean you might be a teacher.

You know you’re a teacher when…

- you have the irresistible urge to tell other people’s children to behave themselves, even if you’ve never seen them before in your life;

- you find yourself slowly and carefully explaining things to your pets as though, maybe, this time, they might understand – and even if they don’t, you’re not giving up;

- you celebrate New Year’s Day on September 1st;

- you consume most meals while standing and using your other hand to write or mark (or, alternatively, while typing on the computer);

- you catch yourself converting fractions to decimals when you cook;

- the phrase “must be nice to have all those holidays” makes your stomach churn;

- you’re rapidly running out of names to give your children that don’t carry negative associations;

- you firmly believe that phases of the moon affect the children’s behaviour;

- you’ve realized you had to go to the washroom at 9:00 a.m. and not made it there until 3:30;

- the above is a daily occurrence;

- you’ve ever prayed for just a little more snow/rain/flooding so you can get out of teaching for a day;

- you discover that it doesn’t really bother you that much anymore when you see someone picking their nose;

- you can recite every episode of SpongeBob Squarepants, Veggie Tales, or another innocuous kids’ show;

- you find yourself humming the theme songs to the same;

- you call the day a success if you only have to repeat an instruction twelve times instead of fifteen;

- you’ve ever come back from a field trip celebrating the fact that you still have the same number of kids you had when you left.