Welp, it’s been a minute or two since I posted a blog or published a podcast episode, and there’s a really good reason for that. You’re looking at the new middle school language and humanities teacher of Oak Farm Montessori School. I’ve been back in the classroom and finishing out my contract with Purdue and doing coursework to become secondary Montessori certified, so needless to say life has been a bit busy.
I thought for sure that after I finished my PhD that academia was the place for me. I tried and tried and tried to get a tenure track job, and it just never worked out. Seems like the universe was conspiring against me in the best way. I finally got to move closer to my family farm, which has been really amazing. But it’s far enough away that I still kinda missed it. And I also really missed getting to work with young folks. Don’t get me wrong, I love working with preservice teachers too, but my heart was really still in the classroom.
My “Wants” list was the following:
- To get to spend time in a barn again
- To get to work with young people again
- To be in a place where I can be a workshop teacher
So, I was touring Oak Farm Montessori School because I really wanted my own kids to be able to go there. (Full confession: I had no idea there were even secondary Montessori programs in existence, so if you were like, “What? A Montessori high school?? You’re not alone.) The guide was telling us about how the high school was under construction because it was doubling in size. I may have offhandedly (and very nonchalantly…probably) suggested that I was interested in teaching here, if they needed more English teachers. Imagine my surprise when I got an email asking if I was interested in a middle school position. Was I ever!
And so, I found my unicorn. I start every morning with students in a barn with sheep, cattle, alpacas, Nigerian Dwarf goats, Nubian goats, mini donkeys, and a pony. I have bottle fed lambs and goat kids. I’ve extracted lamb’s heads from fences. I’ve cleaned stalls, run a petting zoo for toddlers, and swept so many times I’ve lost count. I’ve also been reminded of the really tough parts of farm life – burying the animals who don’t make it. The babies are especially hard.
Then I spend time with students in community. I get to teach reading and writing in a workshop style. I get to teach a creative writing class. I have twinkle lights in my room and a budget for beautifying our space. My kids get to come to the barn on weekends and help with chores.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not perfect. But it’s perfect for me.
Part of that perfect is working with young writers to craft their lives as writers. We’re wrapping up our creative writing class, and two of my 8th graders asked if there would be an opportunity to publish. I thought this would be a perfect place for their work. The settings may not be rural, but the writers work in a barn, so I felt like they deserved a place here to share their voices.
With their encouragement, I’ve also agreed to share part of a piece I wrote as they were writing their pieces. Cheerleading comments are welcome! Let them know all of the gems present in their work!
Autumn has been working on a speculative novel for a little while and used the creative writing class to make some serious progress. She has included the prologue here because it’s the most developed part of the longer piece.
Prologue- 7 Billion Years Ago
He had to awaken to blinding lights in his eyes, like always. He tried to bury his head against the wall to stop the light from getting to his eyes but it didn’t work he tried that trick every day but it never worked. He’d even tried asking the outside people to turn the light down but they never did. Clearly, they didn’t care about him, why should they?
He rolled onto his back, his bare skin stinging as it made contact with the cold stone beneath him. His eyes stung under the blazing light, making them start to water. The light grew so bright in the past that his skin had burned. Luckily, whoever was on duty today was nice and only turned the lights half on. He tried to close his burning eyes and go back to sleep, his arm under his head.
“Wake up kid” A voice blasted from above, Used to this treatment the boy kept his eyes closed. “Wake up you have” The voice took a breath “You have a visitor, believe it or not,” The voice of the outsider repeated. “Oh and Happy birthday, kid,” This made the boy open his eyes, “A visitor” he repeated to himself smiling. Finally, he shot up ”A visitor?” clearly confused as he never got visitors. Was this some kind of joke? Was one of the outside people going to come and do something to him and they were trying to do something to him?
He tried to remember the last time he’d had an actual visitor and he remembered how many years it had been what 3,4 maybe 5 years ago, that his dad had last visited him, though he never came in, he just had heard his voice over the speaker.
Then, he thought back on what the voice also said, was it really his birthday, already, he honestly could have sworn it was last month and forever ago at the same time,’ wow’ he thought ‘he was 10 now’.
Suddenly he heard the distinct sound of the door unlatching and the wooshing of air as the door came undone. The boy instinctively started backing up pushing himself into the very back corner of the room. ‘NO’ the strange voice in his head protested ‘YOU CAN ESCAPE OR BETTER YET HURT THE PEOPLE WHO TORTURE US BOTH ’ No, his normal head voice said we both know that there’s zero chance of me escaping here there’s too much security and I don’t want to hurt anyone he thought, I’ve done though of that already. Just then a girl walked into the room. Making the boy stare in shock.
She was clearly older than him but a lot younger than the old people who usually came in. But that’s not what shocked the boy, what shocked him was her skin. It was the same dark gray as his, which he’d never seen before. All the outside people he’d ever seen had bright white skin. She also had the same charcoal-black hair. She was wearing cloth all over her body like the outside people though hers was darker and more tattered than a lot of theirs. She wore a huge smile, a perfect smile. However, her expression seemed to change when she saw the boy. He hadn’t realized until now but he had taken a couple of steps closer to the girl. He stepped back into the corner again. ‘YOU COWARD, YOU’RE SCARED OF SOME HARMLESS GIRL HA’
“Hello” The girl spoke, the boy looked up at her “May I sit?” He nodded, and the girl sat down her legs over one another. “Would you like to sit with me?” He looked at her and she repeated herself. Finally, the boy answered quietly, “Would you like me to?”
“Only if you would like?” It was silent. The girl remained seated while the boy still stood. “Can I ask you some questions?” He nodded yes again.
“Um,” She was nervous, he knew why, he was dangerous. ‘SHE SHOULD BE SCARED OF ME, BOY. YOU SHOULD BE TOO.’ He gripped his head, in pain. “What’s your name?” He looked up at the girl, confused. She noticed “What’s your name?” She repeated. A name the boy thought, what is my name? He thought but he couldn’t come up with anything until he decided he didn’t have when he was about to the girl when suddenly a memory popped into his head, it was of his dad or at least his voice, over the speaker into his room, “I’ve got to go, Ray. I promise I’ll come visit you, again soon.” That was his last visit.
“I think” The girl stared at the boy expecting him to answer, “I think my name is Ray.”
“Well Ray, nice to meet you. My name is Hailey.” Haley said smiling,
“Nice to meet you too, Hailey”
Autumn is an 8th year at Oak Farm Montessori School. She likes cats, to read, and cheese.
Blake loves revising ancient battles to consider what would have happened if one or two decisions were made differently. This excerpt comes from a story he’s been working on about the Battle of Marathon.
Come children of Greece and hear a story of daring, of victory and defeat and of military brilliance and cunning.
My tale begins with the rule of the Athenian governor Hippias who as he sat in his court of gold was unaware that only a mile away in the temple of Athena a group of the aristocrats were planning to overthrow his reign. Pericles, a Greek statesman takes the staff of Elders as he prepares to speak, saying As Hippias sits upon his throne of gold he starves his people, we can not allow him to hold this dictatorship, we must form a coup and send him out of Athens. But Pericles, how do we do such a thing? The Athenian military is on his side. Trust me Themistocles, we will call upon the Spartans of the north to help us. This they did and sent Lysias on a sacred mission of state to Sparta. He returned a month later with the spartan general Lysander and his men.
They quickly overthrew Hippias but Lysander and his men required gold and refused to leave until it was paid. This infuriated the court and they quickly called for another meeting. We can not allow the Spartans to stay here, they came willingly without the promise of gold and we can not bend to their will. I agree Lysias we must revolt, we have the military now and we will drive the Spartans out. And so they drove Lysander and his men out of their city by force.
Yet another meeting is called by Pericles. How were we so blind, the Spartans will most certainly attack us now and we are not as strong as we once were. I propose we go to the Persian governor King Darius and seal an alliance with Persia, an army that can surely protect us from the crushing Spartan phalanxes of Lysander, What say thee fellow senators. The court agrees and allows a small envoy to travel to the persian court and there they speak with Darius saying, Lord king of Persia, Darius, we come seeking an alliance with you. We come asking for military help against the Spartans who seek to attack our city. Darius agrees saying We will gladly help you vanquish your enemies on one condition, you must sacrifice earth and water to the Persians then and only then will the alliance be complete. The envoy returned with the sacrifice and closed the deal.
Darius used this right away and sent an envoy to gather the customary taxes. But the Athenians threw them into a pit to die. A member of the Persian envoy returned and told Darius the news. Darius was furious. How dare the Athenian Generals kill my messengers and not pay the taxes that they rightfully owe us. They will pay for their treachery and I will see to this by burning Athens to the ground.
But first I must capture Ionia and expand my mighty empire. Datis take my fleet and sail forth to the Athenian region of Ionia to capture their city for the Persians. Datis calls forth his men and sails with 300 ships to Ionia and takes the city. But he notices ships sailing towards him, so he calls for his army. Soldiers of Persia I see the Athenian and the Euboean ships have come to take back the city, ready your weapons and fight, with a shout the Persian immortals leaped forth into battle but are pushed back by the phalanxes of fresh soldiers.
Datis returns defeated but King Darius vows vengeance against the rebellious Athenians and calls upon his gods to deliver Athens into his hands, 10 years later he sends his entire fleet of persian warships and attacks Ionoa again only to find that the Athenians had left and recaptures the city. But even after this decisive victory he decides to continue his campaign. Datis go forth this time we take all of Greece. The fleet arrives first is Eritrea and the city falls. But it is time, he calls for his helmsman Forward, onto Marathon and to Athens now is the time to finish what we have started. With a shout for victory his men go faster than they ever have before and beach their ships in Marathon Bay. Datis, deciding whether or not to attack by land or by sea, chooses the land campaign against Athens and gathers his men to march; Today men we march to Athens and take all of Greece for Persia, we will march through the Verana Valley straight to Athens.
This they do without hindrance only stopping once they stood in front of the mighty wooden gates of Athens where he shouts an order. Archers prepare to fire upon the gates of Athens and show no mercy. We will destroy those that dare insult the mighty Persian empire, prepare fire for the glory of Persia. With this the Persian archers send a volley of arrows at the gate and kill the Athenian guards while they retreat back into the city. The Athenian general Miltiades is called out by the council. Miltiadis as we speak the Persians are outside our gates, do what must be done. Miltiades orders 10,000 Athenian hoplites to form a phalanx in front of the city as well as ordering archers to the walls for cover.
Miltiadies counter attacks and calls to the city walls from the phalanx. Archers, this is the day we show the Persians what it is when you fire upon our city, set your arrows ablaze and set your sights upon the persian fleet where the cavalry awaits Hades, fire at will. The archers send forth a powerful volley, flaming arrows rain down blocking out the sun and the first wave of immortals flee in terror and the ships burn. Datis is furious and calls his archers to fire upon the Athenian flanks once more. They begin to fire, inflicting heavy losses to the Athenian center. Datis calls forth another 10,000 infantry and charge the bronze phalanx but they impale themselves on a wall of spears and get slaughtered, Datis then calls to his ships to bring forth his cavalry hoping that the support can rally his infantry but as he prepares to call the order he sees his ships burning and prepares to retreat with only 15,000 men.
Miltiades seeing this calls upon his now only 3000 remaining Hoplites. Now Athenians under Athena’s blade charge and show the Persians that Athens will not bow before a tyrant. The Athenians run down the hill and rout the remaining Persians only letting a few hundred get to their ships. Datis wasted no time in returning to Persia and the court of the king. As he entered the palace with the news of defeat Darius called out to him, Datis my most trusted general, I see you have returned to me, now tell of how you routed and burned Athens. Datis told of his defeat and King Darius was furious saying, Datis you dare to suffer a defeat against a city state, Executioner ready your axe, Guards hold this man to the block. And with that Datis was executed and a few years later King Darius died handing the throne to his son who once again traveled to Greece to fulfill his fathers wish for revenge. This campaign ultimately led to the stand of the 300 spartans at the pass of Thermopylae.
Unfortunately that is not a story I can tell now but most certainly will tell another time.
Blake is a 7th year at Oak Farm Montessori School. He likes history and learning about ancient battles, and working with the Alpacas.
And, last and least, here’s an excerpt from a short story that was inspired by a bathroom cabinet in one of the middle school bathrooms. It’s a cross between “The Yellow Wallpaper” and Indian in the Cupboard. I told my students that I’m not really a fiction writer and definitely shy away from speculative elements, but I decided to give it a try. Because it’s best to be brave. So without further preamble, here’s an excerpt of “Monday Morning”
I’m so tied up in my thoughts about the ridiculousness of being followed by bathroom furniture that I smack my knee against the steering wheel while flopping onto the driver’s seat of my car. I long for the day that I have a truck and don’t have to endure the cramped space of my sedan’s driver’s seat any more. I roll up to the flashing light and hang a right onto the county road that will lead me home.
The trip is only about five minutes if you don’t get stuck behind farm equipment. And, as it happens, it’s planting season, so I’m following some slow-moving anhydrous. I don’t mind. I take in the fields around me. I know it’s kind of morbid and weird, but I sometimes glance in the ditch, and I wonder if the garbage bags in there contain dead and decomposing body parts. According to the true crime podcasts I listen to, this isn’t an unwarranted question.
I’m doing this when, hand to god, I see the cabinet in the ditch. I slam on my brakes, hearing squealing tires behind me. I realize that I have nearly caused a country pile-up because there was a line of cars behind me, patiently following the anhydrous and chomping at the bit for an opportunity to pass.
I take several deep breaths in rapid succession, reminding myself not to hyperventilate, while staring at knuckles that don’t quite feel like mine anymore, white, straining under the force I’m using to grip the wheel. I press the gas before anyone honks and set off again, shaking each hand out, one at a time.
The dead and gnarled oak tree at the north end of my drive signals to me that it’s time to turn, and I make my way down the winding gravel drive to my apartment. I notice something sitting on the porch. At first, I think it’s an Amazon box, a package of some kind intended for another tenant of my building, but as I get closer, I realize it’s the cabinet again.
I live in a late Victorian style farmhouse that has been carved into individual apartments, so it doesn’t look that out of place there. From the outside, you can kind of imagine the house in its original glory, but my landlords had the bright idea to carve the rooms into studio apartments with ultra-modern furnishings. I shake my head with the thought of it. Opening the door always feels like whiplash. Like I’ve been throttled through space and time. Why didn’t they go with country chic? How could they not Joanna-Gaines the whole thing up, I mean really?
As I have this thought, I’m working my way out of the car, trying not to drop my computer bag. I take my eyes off the cabinet for the most miniscule of minutes and when I look back up – you guessed it – it’s gone. Am I seriously hallucinating?
I make my way up the stairs to my attic apartment. I put the modern house key in a door that definitely should require one of those big cast iron keys. I open the door and wait for the restaurant kitchen grade stainless steel countertop to make sense. I toss my bag in the emerald velvet wingback chair I managed to score at an estate sale, and get a glass of water from the dispenser in the door of my fridge. Cheers to modern conveniences.
I change out of my work clothes, shedding my boho chic advertising exec skin and opt for a basketball t-shirt from middle school that has so many holes in the back there’s hardly any cohesive shirt left. I go into the bathroom to wash my face in my much-hated pedestal sink (I need vanity space!), glance briefly in the mirror to find that the cabinet is behind me, wedged in between the toilet and the shower.
It’s a perfect fit. Like it was made to go there.
Dr. Parton's Literacy In Place 