On With the Plan

     One of my directives was to create a list of critical lenses with which I'll examine how fear plays a role in our lives. Each lens will be paired with an experience of my own. These are still tentatively titled, but it looks like the lenses will be: the thin divide between fear and pleasure, the social aspects of fear/role of the media, the body's role in how we experience fear, the catharsis we feel in being scared, the uncanny, and the visualization of fear versus the narrative of fear. These were all developed by Dr. Zamora and seem to cover all of the major areas I would like to address. Some may be excised depending on whether or not I'm happy with how that section turns out.

     I wanted to try to develop an idea I had. I'm thinking I'll combine the uncanny with the catharsis of being scared. An experience I'll attempt to pair this with is when my best friend Anthony and I would sneak out of his house and one o'clock in the morning. I would sleep over his house every weekend, normally going to bed extremely late if at all. One night we got the idea to sneak out and explore the town.

     The first step in beginning our journey was getting past the gatekeeper, which took the form of a large cowbell that hung from the breezeway door. This was easily remedied by placing a piece of tape inside the bell to prevent it from waking up the whole house. Eventually our early morning jaunts were ended when we forgot to remove the tape one time. Anthony's grandmother wondered why her bell wasn't working and quickly discovered the cause. To save his own skin, Anthony ratted me out as the culprit who liked to sneak out after he had fallen asleep to meet up with my girlfriend. Some best friend.

     The reason our excursions felt uncanny was because of how still everything was. Normally busy roads were deserted. Sidewalks were devoid of people. What normally bustled with life was now completely still. It seemed odd that traffic lights still worked, even though there wasn't anyone there to wait. The world was carrying on even though no one (but us) was there to see it. It isn't often that you find yourself the only person around, witness to the world moving on.

     Every once in a while we'd see headlights. Eventually we turned it into a game of running from the car for as long as possible, diving for cover at the last minute. We'd try to outdo each other with the method with which we hid; one time I almost jumped over the railing of a small bridge, chickening out at the last second. In our minds, any car we saw out belonged to an authority figure who could get us trouble. It never occurred to us that only weirdos were out that late.

     We ventured into the woods, completely unaware of how pitch black it would be, the moonlight unable to pierce the canopy of trees. On one of these trips I saw a chair in the pathway. It still bothers me to this day. The best way I can describe it to people is that a chair is for people to sit in, so someone must have been there to sit in it. Someone in the woods at the same time as us. I know that isn't logically sound, but it fits the definition of uncanny. Something normal (a chair) in an abnormal setting (the woods at 1 AM).

     This was all done to create excitement for us. Maybe we were in danger, maybe we weren't. The thrill of potentially having something bad happen was appealing to us. It's what made us sneak out time after time. Until that damn piece of tape.

This Masters Program is Showing Up at Work

     As I continue trucking on towards November 3rd and my next meeting with my group, I keep plugging away at my lit review. As many of you know, it isn't glamorous work. I've been trying to imagine an appropriate soundtrack that could play in the background like an 80's movie where the hero trains for a boxing match. Unfortunately, reading off a computer screen isn't too exciting.
Instead of trying to find clever ways to describe scrolling on a trackpad, I wanted to take a moment to discuss how this masters program has impacted me professionally.

     When I started the program last September, I immediately put a lot of what we were learning into practice. How I commented on student papers, how I approached individuals students, even my expectations of myself; all of it was changed.

     I started challenging the ideas in the paper, not just the grammar. I stopped trying to shoehorn every student into the same expectations and started setting realistic goals that I thought each student could achieve. I started to view myself as a writer who was helping younger writers find themselves.

     I was concerned when I found out that I would have another teacher in the room to provide support for struggling students this year. I've never been too confident with my peers, often following what they plan and defaulting to them. Now I'm much more confident and my co-teacher has extremely positive feedback about how I run the class.

     The biggest indication that the masters program has had a positive impact on my teaching came today at a workshop. My district has adopted Lucy Calkins' Writer's Workshop. Even though it only goes up through grade 8, my administrators feel that it can be adapted for my 9th graders who perform at lower levels. As we started getting in depth with the program and examining how we will implement each unit, my co-teacher turned to me and said, "You already do all this."

     This is the start of my thirteenth year teaching. I honestly don't know what I was doing for the first ten years or so. This program is definitely helping me become a better teacher and it ranks right up there among one of best decisions.

Sallying Forth

     This journey, still in it's infancy, is quickly becoming one of self-discovery. My organizational skills are being pushed to the limit. I thought that taking two grad school classes while working with two small children was an impossibility last year. I quickly found that I adapted to that situation. Surely taking one class this semester would be much easier. But, much like in any science class I've ever had to take, I'm wrong again.

     I'm entering into my third year teaching freshmen, so I thought I'd be comfortable with the material. Wrong. A brand new curriculum with new textbooks, new remedial software, and a new writing program were bundled together with a new building, new principal, and two new vice principals. Everything has been going well so far, but it's a lot to have to adjust to at once. I also just found out yesterday that a class was created to accommodate ten extra kids. Guess who was asked to teach it? I'll be compensated (and compensated well) to take it over, and it's a good group of kids, so it shouldn't be too much stress (fingers crossed).

     I also underestimated the amount of work that would be going into my thesis. It's definitely not too difficult or boring, but it does command a lot of time. Time I haven't quite figured out how to carve out. Once we get a few more weeks into the year and the new normal is established it should fall into place, but until then I have to make due. The few couple of weeks of lesson plans took three to four hours, but now they only take one.

     I've gathered almost all of the sources I'll need for my lit review, as well as writing how I plan to use them. I just need to organize them together in the groupings in which they will be used. There is so much cool stuff about the eerie and unsettling things that scare us. I'm making a conscious effort to stay away from the jump scares and fears of bodily harm. Instead I'm focusing on the deeply troubling things that strike at our primal fears and leave us with a creepy feeling.

     I've found a lot of material that delves into why we force ourselves into such situations. Especially during this time of year, people go out of their way to be terrified. Haunted hayrides and houses have popped up all over. Adventurous types even explore abandoned locations, which can unfortunately lead to injury.

     Debbie dropped me a note to check in and it sounds like things are going really well for her. I look forward to meeting with everyone in a few weeks and reading what they have while (hopefully) sharing what I've got.

After Some Feedback

     Meeting with Debbie, Omar, and Dr. Zamora really helped me to see how this project is going to unfold. I have this feeling that I know exactly what it is I want the project to be, but whenever I have to explain it, there's confusion. My wife still wasn't aware of what I was doing until after Thursday's class, when everything started to take shape.

     I think if I were left on my own, it would have taken me ages (if ever) to get to the point I am right now. My wife has an understanding of what I'm doing and I have a lot of work. Dr. Zamora's advice has been invaluable. Step one- read. Read about anything I think I can use in my paper.

     I didn't think I'd be studying Freud as part of this project, but I am and it fits in perfectly with what I want to discuss. I've found a half dozen sources that can be useful, so I still need ten or so more. Then I need to arrange them into a structured lit review that will help direct the rest of this project.

     I'm excited to experience my group's projects as well. These creative pieces promise to show the imagination and invention we're capable of. I just have to keep repeating to myself something I've been saying since the beginning of the program: time management. It's easy to let things slip when we aren't meeting face to face on a weekly basis.

     Tiny rant to wrap up: what are all of these kids doing in Starbucks? We commented on how loud they are, but I watched baffling uses of time. One girl opened her school book, only to take out her phone and not glance at the book again. Is this studying? Others hang out in large packs and just laugh loudly, trying to let the rest of us know how great it must be to hang out with them. Sorry, my old man is showing.