It’s Saturday! And, what does any normal person do on a Saturday morning? Probably not get up at 6:17 in the morning to work on a novel. I haven’t even had coffee yet, can you believe it? Believe me, I’ll be crafting a fine espresso beverage as soon as I hit publish on this post.
After hours of focus and diligent typing, I’ve managed to almost catch up to where I need to be. Yesterday, when I posted last, I was at 7,385 words. I’m pleased to say I’ve written 3,686 words since then. Whee!
As fellow writers (and fellow humans), I think you will appreciate this little random story I’m about to tell. My sister teaches 6th grade creative writing – how fun, right? Um, apparently not. This is her first year to teach the subject, after two dreadful years of teaching 7th grade math. In the small town where she teaches, they require her to test the kids using those Scantron formats — multiple choice tests where kids have to fill in the bubbles to show their answers.
I was pretty much appalled that for CREATIVE WRITING she had to give multiple choice tests. What?! Whatever happened to, say, writing creatively and getting a grade based on your work? What’s even more appalling are some of the answers to the questions the kids had to answer. The test was kind of dumbed down, because it was an assessment for my sister to see where she should start teaching them. Even so: wow. Listen to this.
You tell me — when asked what part of speech the word “person” is, how is it freaking possible that more than half the class answered ‘verb?’ And, when asked what the plural of “foot” is, and given the choices A) foots, B) feet, C) feets, or D) footsies, what moron parents and/or teachers taught these children that “footsies” is the right answer? Fifty-three percent said “footsies,” I tell you! I’m astonished and perplexed and all those other words that sound so much better when coming out of Tim Gunn’s mouth.
Poor sister. Poor kids! She certainly has her work cut out for her. I’m encouraging her to write Jen Lancaster-style books about all her crazy experiences. She could probably turn out six different memoirs about her life, and they’d all be captivating and hilarious. I’m serious. The first one, which she’s already started, will be called I Make the Peppy Girls Cry, about being a tough (stuck-there-against-her-will) cheerleading sponsor for some catty-bratty junior high girls.
On that note, in the midst of stressing about word counts or the right way to pace a novel, let’s just be thankful we know what verbs are and that those things with toes (or is it “toesies?”) at the end of them are called feet.
NaNoMeter: 11,071 down | 38,929 to go