Weird Moments in Teaching

A quick post before I go and start vacuuming up my flooded basement:

Teaching college creative writing has been a frustrating experience for a variety of reasons, but we'll focus on one now, since there was just an interesting moment that happened.

One thing I find frustrating is students who fuck around and, as cheesy at it sounds, don't live up to their potential. I had a student this semester who did that. And he is a great writer. For his young age (these are sophomores, mostly), he's got major potential. His writing is always interesting, always well done and complex and researched.

But he barely participated, just doodled in his journal. Sometimes didn't hand in stuff. And when he did participate, it was often with a quiet, but challenging tone. I quickly got the impression that he wasn't impressed with the class, or me for that matter, that he might have felt "above" the introductory subject matter.

Now I told these kids from the start: being a good writer does not mean an automatic A. I'm more interested in the effort put into it, the genuine effort to try and get better. You can be a great writer, I told them, but if you don't put in the work, you're not going to get a good grade.

So today. The kids came in to hand in their final portfolios, no actual class. I said I would be in the classroom from 10:45 - 11:15 to receive portfolios, and if they were late, it was their own fault, and I wouldn't accept it after that time. They trickle in slowly, unless it's down to one last student to come in, our buddy here.

11:10 - nothing.

11:15 - nothing.

I'm having this internal monologue at this point - I'm asking why do you do this? You're so talented, but you keep fucking around, and now I'm going to have to drop your grade by 15% because you're not here on time to hand in your portfolio, blah, blah.

11:16 - pack up my stuff.

11:17 - he walks in.

I say "oh, you are lucky! I was just about to leave!" He says "yeah, I guess I am" with this offbeat, kind of light tone (very ususual).

He hands in his portfolio, then sticks out his hand.

"Good class," he says pleasantly.

Shakes my hand. Then leaves.

WTF.

But weirdly enough, I find that one sentence to be a big compliment.


I might post more later, after this flooding thing is dealt with.

Moving Sloowww.....

Finishing up page 5 of AE#2, did a thumbnail sketch of page 6 and will probably pencil it tonight. It's kinda slow going, but it's happening. Don't know if I can get it all done by January like I hoped- will have to see if I can get some extra work done when I go home to Canada for Christmas.

Am thinking that I need to step up with a strip or regular short comic on this blog, rather than just lame-duck entries updating on the second mini-comic. Maybe take the focus off of my life and get creative again. I have a bunch of stories I've put aside in the past few months - maybe I should do something with them. Or do something completely different.

It's hard - I think the winter is slowing down both my brain. I don't want to do fucking anything when I get home from work.

Too bad, because I like winter, and when we got a dusting of snow last weekend, it not only made me happy, but also homesick. Isn't that weird - the most stereotypical aspect of Canadian life is the thing that makes me all gushy? But for whatever reason, that cold, crisp smell does take me right back to Ontario, to Sauble, and the way the beach is in the dead of winter.

I actually love going back to Sauble in the winter. Sure, it's known as the ultimate summer beach location, but I love how much it's like a ghost town in the winter: pillars of snow, trees covered in white, and the sound of the water rolling in slowly. It's really beautiful. But an acquired taste, I think. Not for most people. Probably because you need to wear layers upon layers to do anything. But I like layers. So there you go.

Pages, Inking Gods, and Waiting for my Turn to Kill

The much-cursed Page 2 and 3 of AE #2. Yes, it's taken me a long time to get this done. Bad, bad Canook. Back to the grind. Trying to average 1 finished page every 2-3 days. Trying to juggle the jobs and errands.


Something I notice as I look at the above picture (again, no scanner, so digital photo it is) is that my bodies are stilted. That is, there's a stiffness I know I have to work on. I know it'll come with more practice - I should probably go back to AS220 for more figure drawing classes. And take some time and just go sketch people in a public place. I think it'll also come with the increased comfort I get with inking with a brush.


I am in awe of those comic artists who are doing what I do with an inkwell and brush, but are so masterful and smooth and confident with their lines. Again, I'm sure that it comes with years and years of practice, but when you're hunched over your art desk, brush in hand, that inadvertant quiver causing a slightly wiggly line as you stroke down, well, I can't even image inking like Terry Moore of Strangers in Paradise, for example.


Now he's a guy that I study as an inker. The way he has extreme detail, varied lines thick and thin to create three-dimensional, realistic characters (realism being the key and drawing real women what he's known for) His use of shadows and full on black to achieve a fully balanced page, the way he illustrates hair and cloth - total inspiration. I doubt I'll ever get to that level, but it's worth trying to learn.


Beyond the pages, planning my trip home to Canada to see my family and friends, preparing to sing with my chorus in a Christmas concert (with lots of singing about Jesus - very strange for a non-religious person like me - I just try to enjoy the singing) getting into playing Scrabble and Scramble, and right now, enviously waiting for my turn to play Ninja Gaiden II (so gross, so hard, but so fun) and making a cup of fresh Red Rose black tea, the stuff I grew up on and one thing I am truly thankful for finding here in Rhode Island.

Mistakes and Mosques

I've had a ton of trouble with page 2 of AE#2, so much so it's taken me a bloody *week* to finish it. I don't know what happened, but I made so many mistakes half of the page is covered in white-out. You never hear about comic artists making tons of mistakes like this. Makes me feel inadequate, really, even though it's only human. And I'm still learning. I just tossed the page aside for now, and I'll go back to it later. Onto page 3, and hopefully some more steady work so I can finish this in January.

Why? Well, Jodi of Julie Light and Rottin Rotti here on Blogspot and I are looking to join forces in 2009. She's still up in Canada, I'm here in the States, and we're going to cross-promote each other under the same business name. There's a con she's going to in February, and I really want to have both American, Eh #1 and #2 done so I can give her both to sell. Plus, it's a good goal to have - have a new book ready for each season.

Random stuff. Ever think of how popular culture affects what you say and how you say it? Example: was watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding last night. Realized that not only do I call a bundt cake a "bu-bonk cake", but refer to boring people as "toast people." It's like a code between M and I when we meet someone who's just as dry and crusty as the term suggests.

Am currently at work, eating some really delicious rice and wraps and baklava from the Muslim club here at the college. They had a guest speaker, an imam I think (head of mosque), and food for donations. They have brochures and stuff they're trying to get people to read - I don't know how receptive people here will be. I told the girls to put them on the cafeteria tables, that way it's there if people are curious.

I know it's a bit of an off topic, but I always thought Islam was a lovely religion. I studied it in college, and went on a class trip to the local mosque. Wore the headscarf, long sleeves, long shirt, and participated in the Friday prayers. I gotta say, I am not a religious person, though I love to study religion, but I can't deny that there wasn't something uplifting to that ceremony. Can't quite describe what. Maybe I'll do a comic about it sometime.

I Thought Boys Didn't Like To Talk on the Phone

Just got off the phone with my little brother Jon, who turns 19 today. I'm quite proud of him. He's the fifth of the six kids, has been living on his own for a while with his girlfriend, and is doing really well. Sounding very rational and grown up lately - was excited that he got a new toaster for his birthday!

Anyways, I just got his new number from my mum, and don't you know he just yapped my ear off for 40 minutes. Told me all about work, his apartment, his girlfriend, some family drama, and how he was planning to surprise me for Thanksgiving this weekend, but probably can't do to work (what a sweetie - I would die if he showed up). I didn't say much - I just listened and let him go. Then he asks for my number and says he's going to start calling me every week.

Is this normal for a 19-year-old guy, to want to talk to his 29-year-old sister like this??

Funny stuff. I don't necessarily believe he'll actually call weekly, but just the fact that he said that made me a little mushy.

Actually, makes me think about doing a mini-comic with stories about my brothers and sister. I have a good one about Jon as a baby throwing up on me.....

So there's Jon. Last time I talked to my youngest brother Tom (17) he kept me on the phone for a good hour, same dynamic - he did most of the talking, I listened. Then a few weeks ago, I talk to my oldest brother Mac (32) and *he* gushes forth for a good hour about his upcoming wedding and job!

It's only something I've noticed recently, but what's with the boys lately? Everyone wants to spill their guts, it seems.

(All okay by me though. My brothers are cute.)