Literacy, Literacy Everywhere - Characters

Literacy, Literacy Everywhere - Characters

Left to right: Me, Elisa Pupko, Peter Mercurio (school principal),
  Honi Wasserman (school media specialist)

For years, since I was a child really, I've written. Since the early 1990s, in fact, when I was getting paid for articles I'd written as a freelance journalist, I've called myself a 'writer.' Since the mid-1990s, when I started writing screenplays, going into the 2000s, when I started earnestly writing fiction, and today, with one indie-published book under my belt and on the verge of finishing my second novel, I've been working on becoming a full-time writer. In addition to, hopefully, being able to support my family that way, I've also tried to establish, within myself and those with whom I interact - inside and outside of the writing community - a writing identity. By that, I mean for people to see me, first and foremost (outside of being a husband, father and martial artist), as a writer. I often describe myself as a "writer trapped inside a teacher's body." I'm a teacher by trade, as the saying goes, but in the land of Hard Work And Perseverance and it's close neighbor, Where Dreams Come True, one day, what I do and who I am will become one.

Well, my writing identity took a major boost last month when I spoke at my son's school. My son is in kindergarten and I was asked by one of the class moms, who's a writer herself, to be one of three speakers at the school's launch event for its annual Academic Fair. The theme this year was 'Literacy, Literacy Everywhere - Characters.' The other two speakers were Elisa Pupko, a New York-based actor and founder of Treasure Trunk Theatre in Brooklyn, and the school's media specialist, Honi Wasserman.

Each of us presented for about fifteen minutes during which we shared our own take on the theme. Honi read from Dr. Seuss and Gary Paulsen, extolling the virtue of books. Elisa shared pictures from several of her acting experiences and discussed how she uses elements like a play's setting (location, era), costumes, her characters' age, their physical appearances, limitations and their social statuses to inform her interpretation of a role she's playing.

Me, I discussed how literacy is a skill but more than that, to borrow from the rock group Queen, how literacy is a kind of magic. And, I truly, mean that. I didn't simply use such a 'ruse' to get the K-2 and 3-5 audiences to buy into what I was saying. Literacy - reading and writing - is magic. Words take you places, let you be other people, do superhuman things. And that's when you read a book. When you write something and create worlds and people and put them together in interesting, educating and entertaining ways, you become the magician. 

Discussing creativity and imagination
with an excerpt from my favourite book,
The Little Prince

I explained to them that my creativity came from many places and how I expressed that creativity with poorly written short stories and unfulfilled story ideas when I was as young as nine or ten. I recalled to my listeners that my brother and I grew up playing with action figures. (I'm a guy so I have to say 'action figures' but, really, they were dolls.) We had eight inch dolls of superheroes and movie characters from The Planet of the Apes (the original) and the original Star Trek series. They were made by Mego. I also had a GI Joe and my brother had dolls of Steve Austin and Jamie Summers. For those of who too young, that would be the main characters from The Six Million Dollar Man and The Bionic Woman. 

Anyway, at first, my brother and I played with them as they were. Captain Kirk was Captain Kirk, Supergirl was Supergirl and so on. Eventually, however, we started creating different characters for them and we would rearrange our bedroom so it would become another world. One time, we folded our mattresses and turned them into mountain ranges. One of our Klingon figures was the town's mayor. We wrote newspapers for the dolls to hold and 'read' and we even cut out tiny monetary notes. What I didn't realize at the time was that I, with my brother, was being creativity. I was even more clueless that my creativity would get me to writing screenplays and novels and speaking in front of impressionable young people. So, basically, I told them that anything and anyone can spark their creativity and imagination. 

I also emphasized that they must do everything they can to prevent from losing their imagination; to remain a child when reading and writing. To illustrate this, I read from my all-time favourite book, The Little Prince. I read from the opening section. To prevent a spoiler - and if you haven't read this wonderful book or you haven't read it in ages, make sure you do so now - I'll just say I read the part about the boa constrictor and the hat. 

Finally, I offered a bit of writing advice with a more practical bend. Since the theme was characters, I told them that character is action. I told them it's better to show their character being good - or bad - instead of merely writing or saying so.

Funnily, as things work out, as I was sharing my pearls of wisdom, I found myself feeling that I was talking more to myself than to my son and his schoolmates. Grown ups, you see, like myself can be such fuddy-duddies. We say "Stop!" and "No!" too often and we want things to be just so and exactly what and how they were intended to be. And, ironically, I think we become more fuddy-duddyish when we become parents, albeit without realizing it or intending to be. So, whether you're five, like my son, or forty-five, like me, remember these things - literacy is magic, don't lose your imagination, character is action, don't be a stick in the mud - and live by them. As writers, remembering these things is invaluable to our process and what we do. As readers, they make the book's enjoyment that much more meaningful. And, if you can enjoy reading and writing with a refreshed childlike innocence, you'll participate fully and enjoy another crazy thing: life. 

Happy creating everyone!

Knock, Knock! Who's There?

On the way to mass last Sunday, my son told me a joke. When he asked me if I wanted to hear a joke, I replied with an enthusiastic "Yes!" I was curious to see at his age - he's five - what kind of joke he was going to tell and it also made me think of how old I was when I started to understand what a joke is and tell them to those who'd indulge me. I couldn't recall when I told me first joke but I'm sure they weren't very good or well delivered. 

Anyway, my son began.

"Knock, knock," he said.

On cue, I replied, "Who's there?"

"Banana," he answered.

"Banana who?"

"Knock, knock."

"Wait! Huh?"

"Just play along, Daddy," my wife interjected.

"Okay," I said. "Who's there?"

Smiling, our son said, "Banana."

Dutifully, I said, "Banana who?"

"Knock, knock," he said one more time.

"Who's there?" I asked.

"Banana."

"Banana who?"

"Knock, knock."

And so it went on for a full minute or so and I really didn't know where it was going. You, however, reading this post, surely knows. Eventually, it did end and the final round went like this:

"Knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"Orange."

I smiled, taken aback slightly. "Orange who?" I said.

Then, with the biggest smile I've seen on a five year old boy and in between giggles, my son said, "Orange you glad I didn't say banana?"

I was very impressed with his timing and delivery and in his complete understanding of the pun. But, once we'd gotten to church, had mass and over the next few days I hadn't thought about it at all. Until today, during the tour of my son's kindergarten.

When the three of us - my son, wife and I - arrived we were greeted by our son's  teacher. She showed us her classroom and his cubby. Then she directed us to the cafeteria where all the kindergarteners and their parents were going to congregate. From there, the kindergarten teachers  gathered us according to our students' assigned teacher and took us around the school.

Naturally, not knowing the lay of the land, I paid attention to where my son's classroom is and it's relation to the exits, stairways, main office, gym and cafeteria. I looked up when the teacher pointed out the fourth and fifth grade rooms but I didn't make any kind of special note of them. Additionally, as a public school teacher myself, I felt a certain kinship and comfort in the school. Even though I didn't know the exact locations of things, I felt like I knew my way around. It's like that saying that goes something like, "he (or she) knows his way around a (fill in the blank)." Someone who's a great cook, it might be said of that person that he or she knows his or her way around a kitchen. That's how I felt. 

Anyway, as we toured the halls, I noticed that each classroom had its own bulletin board just outside its door. Each board was nicely decorated. On one, there were cutouts of fish and on each fish was each student's name who belongs in that classroom. The heading of the bulletin board was You're O-Fish-Ally In Fourth Grade. When we got back to our son's teacher's classroom, I noticed her bulletin board. It had a yellow background and spread out on it were cutout illustrations of halved oranges. On each half was a student's name. I found my son's in the bottom right area. Seeing his name like that - the way I'd seen so many other parents' children's names on bulletin boards in schools I've taught - naturally give me a chill and a feeling of warmth. My son's heading into a brand new phase of his life and, just like the end of the summer and the start of a new school year, it's one full of opportunities in which he - and his mother and I - can grow, laugh, cry, marvel, learn.

We were then directed to the playground outside, where the PTO was sharing some refreshment. As I turned to enter the stairway, I noticed the title of my son's classroom's bulletin board - Orange You Glad You're In Kindergarten. Instantly, I recalled my son's joke. To most people, it's just a coincidence. Perhaps I'm too much of a dreamer because I took it as something else. There was something prophetic about it. My son's apparent understanding of a pun - and not just simply saying something because it sounds funny - coupled with an identically themed tongue-in-cheek greeting by his teacher has to be more than a chance occurrence. To me, it's a reminder that my son is growing older and smarter everyday and that his world - via his own imagination and via the lessons he's going to learn and the friends he's going to make - is getting even bigger. I hope, too, it means the next year is going to finally be our year; a year in which dreams come true.

Whatever you think it might mean, just remember that there is change around us. Graduated students are - and have been since last May and June - beginning to forge their own way. Younger people are entering new and challenging arena of their academic lives. Parents whose children have graduated and moved on are experiencing their own changes - 'empty nest syndrome,' perhaps - and others, like my wife and I, are seeing their children embark on entirely new endeavours. Whatever situation you're in - and it's easier said than done but it behooves us to try - remember that change is what you make it out to be. It can be everything you've ever wanted or it can be a chimera. Regardless, change is an opportunity. What you do with it, now, that's up to you. Just don't waste it.

Finally, for those young people entering another school year, especially the older ones of you who may be so focused on what's ahead - a final year of college, high school seniors filling out college applications, a stressed twenty-something studying for the bar exam - don't forget to let go sometimes and let your imagination take you to far away places. It is, after all, your imagination that got you thinking about what and who you want to become and how you want to become him or her. Never turn your back on your imagination and  it will never cease to be there when you need it the most.

Good luck everyone and have a great year.