Tag Archives: writing

Arming Teachers: A Controversial Solution

One of my many roles/jobs has been as a teacher in secondary education. For many years I taught theater classes and film appreciation courses for U of H-Downtown and various campuses of Lone Star College system. I was happiest in a classroom but became a more than competent distance-learning instructor.

A few years ago, I was teaching one section as an instructor-led class, and at least one section online each semester. School shootings escalated and touched communities in Texas. My campus, which had always been a gun-free zone, was suddenly unable to enforce that status when Texas changed its gun-carry laws and began encouraging teachers to arm themselves. I did not purchase a gun. But I did begin each new semester by going over an active-shooter plan for our classroom. I assigned students who chose to sit at the back of the classroom tasks related to securing the doors and overturning furniture. We went through the steps we would execute to impede the shooter and their bullets, and the safest behavior for that situation. It took up the majority of my first class-period, in a semester already jam-packed. After a couple of semesters, I opted to teach only online classes.

About that time, (2019) Boston Review published this article, “Teachers with Guns” by an Ohio school principal, Thomas Baxter (a pseudonym). It recounts his experience with the school board’s decision to arm select staff members, the training he went through, and the first time he had to use his training. It is an educational and somewhat disturbing article.

Reading Louise Penney’s ‘A Great Reckoning’

As you know, when not writing you need to be reading. I try to read the spectrum of mystery fiction. But I have my favorites. This weekend I got to read the much anticipated twelfth book in Louise Penney’s series about former Chief Inspector Gamache.  It did not disappoint.

On back-order for several months, it arrived as I left for Bouchercon, where I picked up three bags of books to read.  But this one stayed at the top of my pile.

Fans will know that Armand Gamache is the former Chief Inspector of the Homicide division for the Sûreté du Québec.  Having almost died cleaning up the corruption in the famed police force, he has retired to the sleepy village of Three Pines, which figures greatly in most of the books. Seemingly recovered but bearing the scars, both mental and physical, he passes up grandiose positions to become the new Commander of the Sûreté Academy. It is the last bastion of the evil and decay that almost overwhelmed the division. In what seems an act of insanity, he brings two of his fiercest enemies onto the faculty. The struggle for hearts and minds inevitably leads to a murder and the investigation that targets him as a suspect gradually peels away layers of scandal that shock even Gamache.

Penney skillfully intertwines the central story with a historical thread, following a mysterious map through twists and turns worthy of Dan Brown. But, as always, it is the finely, almost poetically-drawn characters and the rich heritage of Québec that holds us riveted, not the tightly structured plot.

If you are a novice to this fabulous Canadian author, sprint to your nearest used bookstore to find the first book of the series, Still Life.  It is not always available at your local box store.  Begin at the beginning and follow the twists and turns of the progressive relationships between the varied and wonderful cast of her books. No one stands still;  they all grow and evolve, and make terribly human mistakes. My only small disappointment in this book was that Clara, the resident artist of Three Pines played so small a role.

Fans of Louise Penney will know that the release of the last two books were somewhat delayed by the onset and increasingly devastating dementia of her husband, Michael.  That she can still write such beautiful prose while coping with this is extraordinary. It is especially poignant since many of Gamache’s most endearing qualities are those she based on her beloved husband.

 

 

 

Cue the Murder

The door slapped shut in my face. The bus lumbered forward, belching its obnoxious toxic diesel fumes.  Picking up the pace, I banged on the door, but the driver flogged the bus through the first three gears.  I caught a glimpse of his slight smile in the rear view mirror as it picked up speed.  My vintage Samsonite case chose that moment to break at the hinge.

Public transportation really sucked! I worked five jobs and had a schedule like a stack of Mah Jong tiles—pull one out and the whole pile crashes.  Being dependent on Metro left no margin for error in my life. Especially, when I’d just learned I was being laid off of job number three.

I teetered on the edge of tears, but I was too furious and too out of breath. Bent over double, a projection of the Milky Way danced across the back of my eyelids. I thought I might throw up.

A compact sedan turned off Kirby and pulled up to the curb beside me. The electric window glided down with a mechanical whisper.  I looked into grey-blue eyes and the concerned face of a blondish man in his late thirties or early forties.  “Are you OK?  Do you need a lift?”

I’m not the naïve kid that moved to Houston from the sticks. I know better than to get into a strange car.  But his was a nice face.  Not beautiful, not rugged, but really nice.

And I was really pissed. Continue reading