"Fun" Reading and the Other Kind

Mama Audley and I have had this conversation many times. I tell her what I'm reading (Victorian novels, theory, philosophy, history), and she asks, "but what are you reading for fun?"

Then I irritate her by deliberately misinterpreting the question and saying, "this stuff is fun!"

But I know what she means: what am I reading simply for pleasure, deliberately resting my critical eye (insofar as it's possible) to just enjoying a book? Not for what I get out of it or what it says about its time or how I can teach/write about it, but just for its own sake. And when life gets busy and I feel like I'm constantly reading something for a reason or a goal, the answer is, too often, "not much," or "nothing."

So, earlier this week, in the middle of five projects that felt like fifteen, in the middle of constant and severe multi-tasking (the kind where you feel guilty for not working on three things at once), in the middle of citations and theory and archives and periodicals (all of which I love and enjoy, by the way), I turned off my computer one night, made myself a cup of tea, and read for fun.

My go-to book that evening (which is actually not mine, but was "borrowed" before I moved from Mama Audley's friend {and drinking buddy} Military Mom) was The Standard Book of British and American Verse, 1952, because it contains this poem:


When You Are Old and Grey, W B Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.


On nights like that one I read it to myself, sometimes out loud and sometimes in my head, and the more I read it the more it sounds like music, and the more peaceful my mind becomes. Soon I'm not thinking about my to-do list or my what's-due list. I'm thinking about how beautiful those words are. Sometimes I read some of my other favorites, or I recite one of the handful I've memorized and so always have with me, but I always come back to this one. I could probably articulate why, but the point is, I don't have to. Because this, Mama Audley, is what I'm reading for fun.

So, my crazy, busy, book-loving friends. What are you reading for fun?

Happy, Happy, Disconnect: see subtitles

Button Up Your Geek!
As I left the Education Building and danced my way over to the English Building the thought crossed my mind that most people, if they knew the reason for my elation, would yell, "button up your geek!" But that didn't stop me. I took the stairs two at a time and knocked on Mrs. Awesome Assistant's door with a huge smile on my face. I opened with, "Guess what I found out today? My student teaching placements!"

Her eyes widened and she humored me, "Ooh. Where are you going to be?" That's one of the things I love about her, she isn't just humoring you. She cares. And, of course, I told her and she was happy for me. Then I went straight for Dr. Rhetorical Action's office. I had to tell him! I was, after all, in his office when he got the phone call that his book was finally and completely ready for print. He would understand, is what I'm saying. So I said, "I know my placements! They don't tell you until December but yadda yadda yadda and I had to talk to the Field Experience office about it so blah blah and they told me where I'll be placed!"

Now you have to understand something here. Dr. Rhetorical Action's blood is made of, well, Life or something. When he laughs, it carries down the entire hall. And when you hear his laughter, you can't help but smile and walk with more spring in your step. Yeah, he's awesome. (And, shoot, he's probably reading this but I don't care. It be a true account.)

So I totally gushed and told him, "I'm placed at Cream of the Crop Middle School! And, it gets better: Small Town High School!!! Ahh, this is totally what I want! This is... Well, this is exactly the sort of placements I've been talking to [my mentor] about wanting to have all along! My mentor rocks! The practicum teacher rocks! Yay!"

Bag of Books
Then I got to have a nice chat with Dr. Rhetorical Action. Such dialogs always prove
1) refreshing
2) engaging
3) inspiring
He also showed me the books he's going to send to Rhetorical Twist. His hot-off-the-press book is included in the stash. I looked over the titles and none of them are already on Rhetorical Twist's bookshelf. She will be very happy when she receives them, let me tell you! It'll be a kid at the candy store sort of reaction. Oh, man, it was a great day.

Parental Units
When I told my dad about my placements he was, of course, very happy that I was happy. I love my dad to pieces. (I also love my mom to pieces, in case you were wondering.) But sometimes... there is a disconnect.

I explained to him how I'm glad I'm placed at Cream of the Crop MS because it should be a good experience. However, I would never apply to Cream of the Crop School District because, well, I dunno, the students' allowances happen to be more than my salary would be! The price tag on their cars, too. Something tells me that I'd be dealing a little too much with concerned parents. By concerned I mean, in this instance, parents who make so much money they think they can bully a teacher into changing grades because they earn too much salary for their child to get a [insert B, C, D, F] on the paper/test/report card. Yea, thanks but no thanks. My father, on the other hand, did not hear what I said. Okay, let me rephrase that. He heard, all right, but he didn't understand what I said. His response? "A job is a job." So I said, "Right. But why would I apply to a district that I had no desire to teach in?" Teach, that is. I have plenty desire to student teach there. It's different, don't ask.

Then there's the part about how everyone seems to apply to that school district. In other words, Cream of the Crop also has its pick of the cream staff. "You don't have a 4.0? Sorry." I don't, by the way, have a 4.0. What does my dad say? Well, there's what they want to hire and what they will hire." Um, hello? Did you just hear what I said? Green teachers flock to apply at Cream of the Crop. Teachers teaching in other districts repeatedly apply to Cream of the Crop. FOUR POINT OH. This isn't the sort of situation where they say, "we want 4.0 graduates" and then hire someone with less than that because they already have a kazillion 4.0 applicants for one position. But, whatever. It was just a small disconnect. He was very happy that I was so stoked, and probably rather proud that I'm so excited about my vocation. At any rate, unless I had an absolute ball while student teaching at CCMS and was offered a job before I left student teaching, I can tell you this: I won't be applying.

My eye finds Small Town High School (and its ilk) much more pleasing. That's just how I am.

Oh, yes. It didn't take long before I text messaged the love of my life about the good news, either. That's right. You get your own photo!