Tag Archives: inspiration

Late Night Ramblings

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It’s bittersweet to read through the comments left the other day by former students.  On the positive side, it’s good to know that I’ve reached so many people on an efficacious level.  On the negative, it breaks my heart to know that the system is breaking the spirit of so many like me.  I’ve given everything I have to this profession, and it feels like all I’ve gotten in return is a demand for more.  For someone like me, who has endured my share of hardships, it’s hard to feel defeated.  I’m simply not accustomed to it, but for now, the bureaucrats have won.  I’ve fought the good fight for as long as I can.

My focus and energy have to turn to something else.  Right now, the frustrations of fighting against the business model are wearing me to a nub.  I’m hoping against hope that this momentum I’m seeing on Amazon is real.  I’m hoping against hope that the dam is about to burst, and The Brotherhood of Dwarves series is finally reaching a broad audience, but it’s still too early to tell.  All I know is that something has to give.  I can’t continue to live on substandard wages at executive hours, battling students and administration for respect.  I can’t continue feeling like a second-class citizen, devoid of any say in my day-to-day life, devoid of any voice in the process.

At heart, I’ve always considered myself a writer first, teacher second.  I’ve always believed that eventually the books would find their audience, and maybe that day is close, but even if it isn’t, my time in education is near an end.  I won’t be part of the business model, the entertain-them-over-educate-them paradigm that seems so en vogue of late.  I won’t make students happy for the sake of keeping them paying tuition.  I won’t pass students along; I won’t give them video games and coloring books as assignments.  If I can’t teach the proper way, I’ll do something else, anything else, with my life, but I will not perpetrate a fraud on my students or the public by pretending to teach them writing while shoving nonsense down their throats.

Saturday Morning Ramblings

Swing

Some highlights from the trip with the boys:

While I was applying anti-itch to his bug bite, Collin was reading the warning label on the box and asked, “Dad, do I have vaginal itch?”

Finn somehow got the notion to create a pee bottle, for convenience I guess.  For two days, he and Collin peed in an old cleaner bottle.  Luckily no spillage occurred.

Listening to Finn sing a nearly perfect rendition of Honky Tonk Heroes.

Body slams and power slams.

Two rafting trips.

Tubing with Heath.

Pool time with my best friend, Dagan, followed by Collin’s first tennis lessons.  He picked it up fairly well and fairly quickly.

On the ride home, singing with the boys each Johnny Cash and Waylon Jennings song that came on Outlaw Country.  I’ve done something right since they knew every word of every one.

And though nothing can top vaginal itch, Collin asked me where babies come from.  I wasn’t prepared.

boys

Raftingpark 2013

Saturday Evening Ramblings

My apologies for the extended hiatus, but the last couple of months have been quite the adventure. Due to circumstances, in mid-May I found myself suddenly single and without a place to live. The plan for this summer had been to renovate the old building into a living space and move to the farm permanently, but that plan got moved to the front burner instantly. For about seven weeks, I slept in my old Blazer out on the property and worked ten to twelve hours every day on the construction.

I started basically with a skeleton: a tin roof, rafters, a block wall along the back, a concrete floor, and part of a frame. I finished out the framing, fixed the outer walls, added onto the block wall, plumbed it, wired it, hung drywall, hung the ceiling, installed windows and doors, and sealed the place. Dad showed me how to do the things I had never done before, and two guys helped me hang the boards for the ceiling, but the bulk of the labor was me and me alone.

It’s not perfect and far from finished, but it’s mine. I built this place with my own two hands. The satisfaction of that is priceless. Pushing through weeks of fatigue and discomfort helped me rediscover a part of myself I thought was gone. There is still a little fight left in these old bones.

Twice now since my divorce, I’ve given up a comfortable place of my own to move in with women who begged me, literally begged, to move in with them, only to later be accused of using them. Well, the people who really know me know I’m not a user. I’m perfectly capable of fending for myself, thank you. So there will never be a third instance of me giving up my own place to live under someone else’s roof. End of that discussion.

My children love my new place. I truly don’t care what anyone else thinks. You don’t like it, there’s the door. You want to criticize it, go build something better in seven weeks or shut your mouth. As for me, I’m D.A. Adams, and I’ve just begun kicking ass.