There's a Monster Under The Couch/Bed/Deck/Anything With a Clearance

I'm walking down the hall at school and I hear a toilet flush...immediately followed by a first grader who is (how shall I say it politely?) not all the way zipped and put back together.

We have automatic toilets in our new school (you know; like the ones at the airport--where you're not entirely done with everything and the bottom all of a sudden whooshes and literally drops out from beneath you). That's scary enough for me, but it can be just plain terrifying for a six-year-old. (The automatic sinks are a different story--HOURS could go by and there would still be fun to be had with the automatic sinks in the first grade bathrooms.)

I was afraid of PLENTY when I was six. In fact, without even trying, I came up with a pretty good list:

1) sea kelp: It really doesn't need much explanation. Especially the sea kelp from the Pacific Ocean--it has sea monster tentacles written all over it.

2) the dark: duh. My dad tried taking me outside during the night to show me all of the items in the yard. "See," he said. "It's the same maple tree that's there in the daytime." I wasn't buying any of that. Everyone knows the Wizard of Oz tree comes out at night. The poky sharp parts don't reveal themselves in the daytime. Again: duh.

3) And speaking of the Wizard of Oz...no, I'm not going to say the flying monkeys--they were nothing compared to the witch flying through the air on the bicycle (you can hear the music playing in your head when I just mention her, can't you?). My parents had to hang a special sheet on my window, because my frilly white curtains didn't hide her flying by.

4) Outhouses when we were camping--it's in the monster-under-my-bed category. Best to go in the woods. Setting foot in one of those places is just asking for something to reach up for you.

5) Clowns--really, why would anyone think they would make children happy? These creatures are something the horror screenwriters claim as their own, and rightly so. If you need anymore convincing of these terror-inducing entities, just talk to my brother. He'll talk you right out of having one at your next party.

6) The monsters/snakes/(fill in the blank) under my bed. I had really well-developed leg muscles for six. And I'm pretty sure I was close to an Olympic qualifying time in the triple jump. I could take a leap from back by my bedroom door and never even skim the lower part of my mattress when I was getting in bed at night.

As I look out my window, I can see it'll be dark soon...all I can say is, I'm PLENTY happy that someone threw water on the mean lady with the flying bicycle...

Cool Things I Wish I Could Do (Part 1)

Whether people are willing to admit it or not, everyone has a desire to be cool. My teenager spends entire days convincing me of how uncool I am. So I felt the need to devise the following "I would be really cool if I could do this" list. Please feel free to add to it in the comment section.

1) Surf--not body surf or boogie board, but the stand-up-jump-the-waves Hawaii Five-O kind.

2) Write a fantasy novel--the way out there, super secret language, larger than life, world building kind.

3) Play the guitar so well, that when they played my songs on the radio, Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton would think they were listening to themselves on a good day. (Yes, Tim, I know Jimi's six feet under, but my game, my rules.)

4) Sing so well, that people will turn around at church, not because I'm slightly off key, but because they think Aretha's in the house.

5) Have the Saturday Night Live crew call me up and beg me to join their writing team.

6) Pole Vault just shy of an Olympic qualifying height. Frankly, I just don't want to put in the training time, and I'm not willing to forgo the Hostess products.

7) Have Harper Lee call me up and ask to be pen pals,

or show up in my kitchen and eat a toasted cheese sandwich with me,

or (also quite acceptable) invite me over for a leisurely game of dominoes.

8) Sit around watching TV and eating Cheetos with Steve Martin and Ellen DeGeneres.

9) Have Oprah and Gail show up in my driveway to pick me up for Girls Night Out.

10) Sing Hey Jude with Paul McCartney

Stay tuned for Part 2!

It's a Parallel Universe

Who doesn't love a nice long plane trip in cozily intimate quarters with strangers intent on exhibiting all of their nasty habits? I do admit to enjoying a loud talker or two on a plane or train, and I have been happily entertained by subway performers. It's all grist for the mill. Right?

Saturday, I returned from a day-long plane trip from California, and I realized how much those passengers on the airplane mirrored the behavior of my first grade class.

First of all, there's the lining up thing. We're all going to the same place. The front of the plane is going to get there at the same time as the back of the airplane, so why do we have to push and shove each other with our giant, should-have-been-checked carry-on? Next time someone pushes me while they're frantically trying to get ahead, I'm going to get out out my teacher voice and say, "We keep our hands and feet to ourselves."

The following directions thing is almost identical on the plane and in first grade. As soon as the flight attendant starts giving the emergency directions, the passengers start talking. Next time, I might have to speak up with my teacher voice and say, "can anyone repeat what she just said?".

Then there's the snack thing. My first graders live for snack time. Have you ever seen the frantic eyes of the airplane crowd when the flight attendant is going down the aisle with the cracker box? People are practically standing on their seats, thinking he will run out or (gasp) skip them. And when he does arrive at their row, they desperately forget their first grade manners and grab as many as they possible can, as if they'll never eat again. (Okay, I'll give them that one. Who knows if you will get to eat at all on the airplane?)

And, of course, there's the bathroom thing...Just like in first grade, as soon as one person gets up to go, everyone gets the idea in their head.

And then, we have the Diva. If she's going to complain, why not just fly first class or a private jet?

My final observation has more to do with the staff room at school which, as I've pointed out before, people will eat a two month old tuna casserole brought from the back of someone's refrigerator and placed up for grabs on the staff room table. On the first leg of my flight, the plane already had passengers on it from a previous stop. The flight attendant held up a half a sandwich left by someone. A man (with absolutely no shame on his face) raised his hand and placed dibs on it. True story. I couldn't bring myself to turn around and actually watch him take a bite.

Maybe when I retire from teaching, I can start offering training at the gate.

Top Ten Foods(?) I Probably Shouldn't Admit that I Like/Love

I am kind of hijacking REFLECTION OF A SHALLOW POND's blog--okay, STEALING HIS IDEA--It's okay; I can do that--I'm a professional, aka, his sister. I have a long, practiced history of stealing/harming him and generally bossing him around. My brother, Tim, definitely rivals David Letterman in his Top Ten list skills. He has issued a challenge on his Facebook page for his blog readers to come up with their own top ten lists. My list was actually inspired by another of his blog entries--the competitive eating one from a couple days ago. So my list will be:

The Top Ten Foods(?) I Probably Shouldn't Admit that I Like/Love:

10) Hostess Ding-Dongs

9) Hostess Ho-Hos

8) Hostess Twinkies--okay, pretty much ANY Hostess product. Someone put a box of Shrek Twinkies in the staff room at work--the cream filling was GREEN, so I couldn't bring myself to publicly/casually take one--way too many witnesses at lunch time. I think I even pointed at them and said, "Ew, gross," for all to hear; sadly, when I secretly went back to get one later, they were all gone. (It's a well-known fact that you can leave back-of-the-refrigerator food in a teacher's room in the morning, and it will be consumed by 2:00 p.m.)

7) Funions--not sure if I spelled that right--it rhymes with bunions, which is pretty disgusting, in itself.

6) Hamburger Helper--ESPECIALLY the cheeseburger macaroni kind.

5) The fake cheese that they put on cheese fries and those 15 dollar nachos that you can buy at ball games--on occasion, I have considered paying double for extra fake cheese. It would be worth the thirty dollars of cheesy wonderfulness.

4) Street cart meat in New York--gyros, etc.--a few days ago, I saw a vendor flipping the "meat" on his grill, his cigarette dangling over his spatula, and I quickly put that in the things-I'll-pretend-I-never-saw category. (As my friend, Brian, always says, "Denial--it ain't just a river in Egypt...")

3) Swanson's fried chicken TV dinners. I do, however tend to skip over the mixed peas and carrots, unless enough cherry cobbler goo has flowed over into that compartment to sufficiently mask the carroty taste.

2) Pixie stix--but only if you pour the whole thing on your tongue at once--otherwise, it's just not the same effect.

1) A hot fudge sundae, with no ice cream--think about it--it's the ultimate in chocolatey delight.

**I reserve the right to change the order of preference, depending on hour and availability. Substitutions are allowed, but not recommended.

So...let's see more top tens. You can post them on my brother's blog, or, since I've got seventeen months more life experience than him...you can post them right here in my comment section.

Seth Baumgartner's Love Manifesto

If that title doesn't grab you, you will be completely hooked by the first page of Eric Luper's newest novel, just released by Balzer + Bray/HarperCollins.

Rachel Cohn, the bestselling author of NICK AND NORAH'S INFINITE PLAYLIST, think so, too. She says, "Delightful, funny, and true, Seth and his manifesto will win your heart."

Eric's story tugged at my heart strings and brought back memories of my own teen years that made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. I rooted for his main character, Seth, from the moment he was getting dumped by his girlfriend at Applebees. That was only the beginning of life's complications for Seth. He had me wanting to run right out and find him a new girlfriend. The story, told from a delightfully fresh boy's perspective, had me shirking my own writing obligations so I could follow Seth through to the end.

I knew people would want to know more about the man behind the book, so Eric Luper has so graciously agreed to answer a few questions on The Backstory...

ANN: You have recently delved into rules for writing fiction on your blog. What is your favorite writing rule to break?

ERIC: I break them all when they need to be broken. I look at writing rules less as laws and more as suggestions to nudge you in the right direction. I think it's important to know the rules, though, so you can make an informed decision when it comes time to break them.

ANN: If you could collaborate on a novel with anyone, dead or living, who would it be?

ERIC: Hands down Kurt Vonnegut. That guy was funny and smart and wrote awesome books. Need I explain this?

ANN: You have had some interesting and unusual jobs in your non-writing life. If you could go back to one of those jobs for just one week, which one would it be and why?

ERIC: Interesting question. I would love to go back and work at the Raptor's Trust, a facility in northern New Jersey that rescued and rehabilitated birds of prey. Those birds were so awesome...except for the turkey vultures that would throw up this disgusting, stinky, vomit-slime.

ANN: I know I'll never get you to admit to the Clark Kent thing, but I do know you are a chiropractor in all of that free time that you have. Tell us a little about your work as a Red Cross Disaster Relief volunteer and what led up to it.

ERIC: After the attacks of 9/11, I felt a compelling need to get to New York City and do what I could. There wasn't a huge call for children's writers down there, but I could help out in my capacity as a chiropractor. So, I called the Red Cross, got my credentials, and went to the Red Cross Respite Center at St. John's University. I treated rescue workers as long as I could, morning, noon, and night. Closed my office here and everything. It was a moving experience, but I was doing nothing compared to those rescue workers. Those guys were awe-inspiring.

ANN: I absolutely loved SETH BAUMGARTNER'S LOVE MANIFESTO. If Seth were to appear on Oprah, what would his top break-up advice be?

ERIC: What...? Huh...? What was the question? I was paying attention to that first part of your question. Oh, break-up advice... Okay... If Seth was on Oprah, he'd likely tell people not to listen to clichés. Things like, "there are other fish in the sea", and "She was never the one for you" do no good. It's okay to be sad.

ANN: Is there a medical thriller in your future?

ERIC: Never. I like to write about things I'm learning about as I write. That way, I can put what is fascinating to me about the subject in my story, assuming it will be fascinating to others. If I were to write a medical thriller, I would include things so esoteric that they would be boring to laypeople. Does that make sense?

ANN: I know the St. Anne Institute is near and dear to your heart. (I am convinced that you don't sleep--wait... are you a ---???) Sorry. I got distracted... can you tell us a little about your latest project involving piles of books?

ERIC: Recently, I was asked to sit on the advisory board for St. Anne Institute, a not-for-profit residential/therapeutic school for at-risk teen girls. Of course, the first thing I wanted to see was the library and I was saddened to see that recent budget cuts led to a very small and very dated teen library. There were huge gaps in the selection, particularly urban fiction, fantasy and sci-fi... and that was exactly what the girls of St. Anne want to read! This was not acceptable to me, so I reached out to author-friends, editors and agents and within weeks, I had boxes of books on my doorstep read for St. Anne's. But's it's not nearly enough.

You can check the news story out at:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o2F7LLqyOLQ

And if you are interested in donating a book, feel free to contact me via my website (www.ericluper.com) or to phone in a donation call The Book House of Stuyvesant Plaza (www.bhny.com), an independent book store here in Albany. They have a wish list from the girls and are offering a discount on books. Their number is (518) 489-4761.

Flaming Piccolo Petes

We woke up in the morning of July 4, looking for things to do, biding our time until it got dark. We'd be eyeing the box of Sparklers well before noon. What my brother, Tim, and I usually resorted to in the daylight hours was caps--those rolls of paper strips meant for a cap gun, but way more fun to pound out on the curb. We'd sit in front of the house, the caps stretched out on the curb between us. Then we'd search out a perfectly-shaped rock and pound on the little bumps of gun powder, hoping for a bang, or at least a small spark, usually smashing a finger or two in the process.

This quite often brought our older brother, Tom, out. He'd scoff at us, not even bothering to hide his disgust with our small-time explosives. He'd inevitably coerce us into giving up our entire supply so he could rig up something loud and dangerous.

I remember that feeling when they were gone. The acrid smell of gun powder was in the air and all we were left with was a mess in the gutter.

Sometimes we'd hop on our Stingrays and ride up to Piggly Wiggly where our mom was working in the PTA fireworks stand and beg for some money to buy more. Usually, if we were annoying enough, she'd send us home with a couple of smoke bombs or something small and we'd hop back on our banana seats and ride home.

Then after what seemed like an eternity after sunset, we'd gather on opposite curbs of sixteenth street with all the neighbors. The dads clustered in the middle of the road with the boxes of Red Devil fireworks emptied and lined up in order of spectacular danger. The small fountains were usually first. The bargains boxes were full of these, and when they lost their luster for the crowd, a couple of the dads would start grouping them together for more special effects.

And of course there was the Piccolo Pete. It was usually saved for last, because our big brother would pinch it with pliers to give it more whistle and bang.

But my absolute favorites were the sparklers. My mom would hold the burning punk to continuously light our sparklers. I still like to trace my name in the night air. Luckily, I had a short name and could sky write the whole thing before the sparkler burned my hand. My brother would try to get me to write other things, like the inevitable f-dash-dash-t word. There was nothing like a little fart in smoking sparkles to get the festivities going.

It was a little sad on the morning of July 5, as we went outside, pushing up our kickstands and gripping our high handlebars down the driveway. We pedaled past the last night's detritus, knowing we had to wait an entire year for it all to happen again.

But there were always unpounded caps to be found. And if we did a thorough search of Tom's bedroom, we might be back in business...

A safe and sparkling Fourth to everyone.

How can they leave me?

I used to say that I would teach any grade except first grade. My mom taught first grade for years, and I saw how hard she worked. She'd be up late every night and up before dawn, preparing, planning, getting ready to do it all over again the next day.

Eleven years ago, my youngest was in preschool and I was working part time in the resource room. My principal came to me. "There's a full-time opening," she said, "and I think you should interview for it."

Thoughts of my old fifth grade class traveled through my head and I started to get excited. "What grade is it?" I asked.

"First grade." She smiled, encouragingly.

It is the hardest grade I've ever taught. But I wouldn't take back my decision for anything. Where else can you see someone go from reading bits and pieces of words to reading a chapter book, and progress from writing just a handful of words to a two page story in just nine months time?

I love that sudden grasp of story that some of them get when the letters and words start to make sense. A few of them may have been struggling in the fall, trying desperately to crack the code. I love it when it finally starts to fall into place for them and they start to devour the books in the classroom.

It's almost the last day of school, and as usual, I'm not ready to let all of them go just yet. We've got more stories to write and many more books to read first.

(By the way, if you are reading this and your name rhymes with "Mack", I'm not letting another teacher have you. We'll just keep bringing in bigger desks...I was hoping we could collaborate on a monster book one of these days...)