Monday Musings...

College and the love of learning...

      I have to admit and without any shame that I didn't finish college. (please hold the gasping) I didn't decide to be a lawyer or a judge like my mother in law wanted and I didn't choose to be a doctor like my Dad was hoping. Sorry Dad. 

     I decided to raise children. Hopefully happy and well adjusted children, or at least as close as I can get considering we are all humans and prone to our own set of quirks, problems, and outlooks right from the moment we exit the womb. Word of warning, a stubborn baby is going to be an equally stubborn child and I suspect an equally stubborn adult. But aren't we all just a bit bullheaded? (grin) 

      But with that being said I did attend college for a couple of years and the college was even paying all my tuition for attending their school. They thought I was smart. At the time I thought I was too, now I know I'm just really good at passing tests. It's inside the box thinking and I was pretty darn good at it. What a fool I was. 

      Being older now, I realize that being inside the box is stifling, restricting, and will drain your soul dry. Scoring great on a test isn't the all end meaning of life. 

     Does anyone remember the joys of learning? Like when we were five and splashing in a rain puddle was a science experiment? When did we lose that love? I think college failed me. I was expecting to learn, to grow, to experience wonder. Instead I had more tests to take, more facts to memorize, which I promptly forgot after the test, and professors that would actually read me their dissertations for our class assignments. Is that a lack of teaching skill, laziness or ego? I even had a Spanish teacher that gave me an A and I couldn't pronounce a single Spanish word correctly. I understood the material, passed the written assignments but I couldn't speak the language we were supposed to be learning. And I received a 'A.'

      I didn't know what I wanted after two years of classes. I wanted to write but most college writing courses don't teach you how to write novels. And I was told by the school that the program I was enrolled in was a stupid program and I wouldn't find any sort of job with that degree. Great, why am I here then? 

      According to a book that recently came out, "Academically Adrift: Limited Learning on College Campuses," 45 percent of U.S. college students show little gains in learning after two years of college. Two years. They have little progress in areas, important areas, like critical thinking, complex reasoning and written communications. 

     Now I'm always wary of studies and statistics, most I feel are funded by corporations that want to obtain certain results. But I think we need to delve further into this study. I know college professors, they complain how classes and students are 'dumbed down'. I talk to students and they're frustrated because they have class after class of useless subjects and learn nothing that has to do with having a career, with strengthening vital cognitive skills, with functioning and contributing to a better society. 

     I know I've learned more on my own, just reading, studying, challenging myself than I ever did from most of my college classes. I certainty haven't used any of the classes to make money or raise a family. And I'm not the only one. So where does that leave us? Reform. Whose reform? 

     A great writer, artist, scientist is not a student that was forced inside a box and told what to think. They are the people that realized there wasn't a box to begin with. 

     And so with all that being said, I'm not saying college isn't useful or necessary. I love learning and would hope that people would realize that it doesn't stop when the school bell rings. But I think college needs a tune up or heck, even a complete engine overhaul. We shouldn't fail our children when the love of learning is one of the most important things we can give them.

Weekly Writing Tip

Back to our Characters...

   It's important to develop your ability to 'paint' interesting characters. The last two articles covered naming your character and figuring out your character's personality. 

    This week lets work on describing characters without sounding like you're filling out a questionnaire and marking off a checklist. 

    She had blue eyes. Check. 

    And long, brown hair. Check.  

    Two hands. Check.

    And a head. Check. 

    I can see a woman in my imagination with the above listed traits but I don't feel this character. She's bland. A blank canvas. 

    Who did she inherit the eye color from? Can you see them behind glasses? Are they sad? Has her brown hair ever blew wild in the wind or has it been confined to a strict regime of hair gel and rigid bun? 

    Are her hands rough from a much beloved hobby? Or tired and worn with the ravages of her life? Has anyone ever slipped a ring of love around her finger? Or has she stripped her fingers bare of any mention of love? 

    Use your imagination for the head. I'm still stuck, very unfortunately, on zombies and all I can come up with are wherever she has brains or not. (grin)

    Add feeling and history to your descriptions. Don't pull out a book of adjectives and go crazy like a kid who has been given free access to a candy store. Pace yourself. More is not always better. (Especially when drinking coffee. Caffeine buzz.)

    This week challenge yourself. Pick someone, either in real life or from fiction and write a description on them. Feel it. 

    Example: She had to be rigid. Her students expected it, the parents demanded it and she would fail if she didn't. A ballerina was perfection from the bun tightly binding her hair to the clothes that fit snugly over her smooth stomach and curve less form. Her smile was tight, given when earned but never reaching her cold blue eyes. And it would be unsightly to slouch, sit or relax. She must always hold her shoulders back, her hands gracefully folded in front of her and her head tilted lightly in elegant form. She was demanding but fair. Not overly critically with her words and her praise given quietly without fanfare.

      She was a ballerina. 

Happy Writing.  

Monday Musings...

Change...

    Like the characters in stories, the ones we read or the ones we write, it's always about change. We are introduced to the character in the moment of their great change, when their entire world has fallen apart and they are vulnerable, broken, shattered in the inside. And throughout the story we travel with them as they find strength and possibly faith to carry forth from the depths of their despair and find a level of happiness suitable to the type of story we are reading. Obviously fairy tales having the 'they lived happily ever after' and a tragedy ending with death but with meaning. 

     I am writing in generalizations, obviously every story is different but the main concept is the same. We don't want to read a story about Bob who eats oatmeal everyday and then dies. What did he learn? Where was his growth? What was the change? 

      And so life is like our stories. Or more like our stories are like life. We are always changing, growing, learning. At least we should be. If we stop, then our minds turn to mush and not even zombies want to eat them. (Just kidding, I'm sure zombies eat even mushy brains.) 

       I think people avoid change though because it's painful. It hurts. What change in your life ever happened without making your heart hurt, or your eyes threaten to ruin your makeup or (gasp) make you face yourself in the mirror. That one hurts. The old can you handle what you actually see in the mirror trick. Stories have used this technique to show their characters their flaws, their weaknesses, themselves. Painful process. 

      Charles Dickens' used ghosts to force change in his character. I think that technique might frighten a person into an early grave. (grin) 

      People like to wait until the New Year to start changing but it's just another excuse to put it off. I think if we really wanted to change shouldn't we do on the first day of spring, a time of renewal, growth, nice weather? Not start in the dead of winter when our own doom and gloomy winter blues make it hard to accomplish change? 

      Realizing change is going to happen to us even if we fight it should make us more inclined to control our own destinies, our own fates. At least to a certain degree, I couldn't control the dryer dying neither can I save my old Buddy dog from his own fate of dying from cancer. I rather have a dead dryer than watching my wonderful canine friend suffer but some change we can't control. 

      But some change can be controlled, or at least directed. I may never be a well known author but I won't even have a chance to reach that point until I make an effort to change and accomplish things that put me on that path. One day I might actually grow broccoli that doesn't go right from stalk to yellow flowers without producing florets but I won't know that if I stop trying. Someday I might finish learning a foreign language but short of being plucked from my home and dropped in a foreign country that's not going to happen unless I make an effort.

      So if you were a character in a story, what change might you see? What change would you direct in yourself, your neighborhood, your community, your country? Many good things in history did not happen until a person came along and wrestled change to the floor by the horns. Painful, sometimes gory, but much better than just watching from the sidelines. 
      And it certainty beats having mushy brains.

Just a Musing...

Taking things for granted...Or do we remember to experience gratitude?

       During childhood most of us are taught to say 'thank you.' And typically we meant it, even if we had to work on getting the words right. To remember our manners. I certainty loved receiving a cookie or a special toy. At Christmas my siblings and I were taught to pay attention to the person giving us the gift so that we may show our gratitude and respect towards the giver. Perhaps it made for a more orderly 'opening of the presents' but we learned to appreciate what we were given. And in turn when a gift we gave was appreciated, we felt warm and fuzzy inside because we knew they enjoyed it and were full of gratitude.

      Now, gifts given by a 'giver' who wants our gratitude in such a way as to be controlling is an entirety different manner, left for another article. Because those are gifts we open with a hesitant heart and a wary soul. 

      Gratitude is important, otherwise we fall into the trap of taking things for granted. And unfortunately we don't even realize we take things for granted until suddenly something terrible happens. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all. But shouldn't we take a bit of time, before we leave the bed in the morning, or before we shut our eyes at night, to take a deep breath and remember what is important? To say 'thank you'. To remember our manners? 

       And not only for things such as clothes, food and toys but for the soil that our food is grown in? The rain that falls on our Earth and supplies us with life? For the sun that warms our planet? Should we remember to be grateful for the cycles of life and the joyful times of development our children grow through? Perhaps we could take a moment to be grateful for dogs because they are loyal and treat us like royalty when we do nothing more than give them pats on the head and puppy treats when they wag their tails?

        It's like writing. I grow frustrated because I haven't achieved my goals, I haven't found an agent or signed with a publisher even though I finished my book and edited until I could edit no more. But perhaps I should feel a bit of gratitude. Why? Because I could write. My brain could form words and sentences and ideas. Because I could embrace my creativity. Because my fingers obey the commands of my brain and type the keys on the computer that I want them to. Journeys of any sort can be difficult, taking our manners with us can help. A bit Pollyanna, I know, (the people that dwell in the world of negative are cringing) but gratitude is a spark of light which is always important otherwise we grow soul weary. And that just sounds like a tired state of being to me.