Tag: novels

Escapism—The Enabler

February 21st, 2023

Escapism—a dirty word for some, but really it’s just the act of seeking distraction and relief from the pressures of real life by engaging in a form of fantasy or imaginative activity. It can be both healthy and unhealthy depending on the level and method of engagement. While some forms of escapism can help to relieve stress and anxiety enabling an individual to take on their world, other forms can have a negative impact on mental and physical health.

A lasting and popular escapist pursuit is reading. J.R.R. Tolkien, the author of The Lord of the Rings, once said, “Why should a man be scorned, if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home? Or if, when he cannot do so, he thinks and talks about other topics than jailers and prison-walls?” This quote illustrates the idea that escapism can be a means of coping with difficult situations. Tolkien himself used his own writing as a form of escapism during World War I.

One form of escapism that has become increasingly popular in recent years is binge-watching TV shows. The comfort of familiar characters and settings can be a welcome distraction from the stresses of daily life. Shows like The Office, with their relatable and humorous characters, can provide a sense of camaraderie and escape from reality. For me, I love watching Michael Scott’s ridiculous antics and off-color jokes. It helps me recharge—but then again, it also distracts me from using my time wisely. There’s a level to which it’s self-care, but on another, it enables me to easily shirk things that are far more fulfilling.

Tabletop RPGs, like Pathfinder and Dungeons & Dragons, offer a form of group escapism. They allow players to assume roles in a fantasy world, engaging in quests and battles. This type of escapism can foster social connections and creativity, though it had a long history of suspicion from outside (anyone who’s played it knows these criticisms and suspicions were largely undeserved.)

Live-action role-playing (LARP) takes group escapism to a higher level. Participants create intricate costumes and immerse themselves in a fantasy world for a brief period of time. While this type of escapism can be fun and creative, it can also be seen as strange or uncomfortable by those who do not participate. But that in itself doesn’t necessitate this sort of escapism to be harmful. For in the words of my little brother, “You know I don’t give a shit about what other people think, and neither should you.”

I’d be remiss if I failed to mention Mardi Gras. Mardi Gras and Carnival season also offer a form of escapism. Not just with the vibrant colors, music, and festivities that provide a break from the monotony of everyday life. In the early Christian calendar, the period leading up to Lent was a time of fasting and abstinence. However, people wanted to enjoy themselves before the Lenten season began, and so they developed the tradition of Carnival. The word “carnival” comes from the Latin phrase “carne vale,” which means “farewell to meat.” This reflects the Christian tradition of abstaining from meat during Lent. Carnival season became a time for people to indulge in food, drink, and other pleasures before the period of fasting began. Mardi Gras is widely understood to have devolved considerably into quite a bit of what we can uncontroversially call debauchery. Nevertheless, the idea is to escape the reality of what’s coming in Lent or what exists in non-Catholic’s daily lives. This type of escapism is widely accepted and embraced by society.

However, as we’ve already seen, not all forms of escapism are socially acceptable, but some are simply inherently unhealthy. Illicit drug use and extramarital affairs, for example. It might not seem so, but these are forms of escapism, whether escapes from a bad situation or relationship, or just a perpetuation of self-destructive behavior.

Nevertheless, any escapist pursuit can be detrimental. Even novel reading was at one point widely considered to be an activity detrimental to mental health. I imagine if one read novels to the point they neglected too many real responsibilities, what would for most be a benign escapism, would be detrimental. (I’m reminded of a marriage ruined by a husband’s obsession with video games.)

I suppose it comes to that—the balance of responsibilities and escape. Some forms of escapism can provide a much-needed break from the stresses of real life enabling an individual to better face their responsibilities. Some escapist pursuits enable some to shirk their responsibilities. It’s important to find that healthy balance between engaging in escapism and living in the real world. Too much in one direction, we have effectively grown children—ill-equipped to take on even the most basic responsibilities which will be detrimental to our society and culture at large.
The Book that Got Me Fired: Part II

February 19th, 2023

After

Yesterday, we talked about the lead up to my being fired over assigning Looking for Alaska to my 11^th grade honors English class. If you missed that post, you’ll want to read it first.

My principal, Knock-off John Malcovich decided that I was no longer welcomed to teach classes at their school. I took a moment and cried to myself as the implications set in. Shame washed over me. My therapist says I appear to have an overactive sense of shame—but I wasn’t working through those issues back then. I was thinking about telling my parents, my fiancée, our pastor—with whom we were meeting that evening to have a pre-marital counseling session. How could I explain that I got fired? Fired for a book, who would even believe me? My whole teaching career might be completely finished! I had come to love teaching, love my students. Take this “error” away and I’d done quite well by pretty much all accounts—at least for a first-year teacher. I brought this up once I regained my composure. Ultimately, they agreed to keep me on payroll, declare this a “leave of absence.” I’d write their final, but a sub would administer and grade it. But what was galling was that I was forbidden to tell any students why I was fired… excuse me, “taking a leave of absence.”

I went back into the classroom where… I don’t know five or six students were waiting for me. I told them I was fired. They all of course knew why. They cried, I cried. They said that since I wasn’t their teacher anymore, that they could hug me, so they did. I needed it. One of my students took my flags down from the classroom wall and carefully folded them. They helped me load my car with most of my personal belongings while the administration made themselves scarce.

Then I called my fiancée. I was now calm enough to tell her what had happened. She couldn’t believe it. I was meeting her and our pastor straight from school at a local po’boy restaurant. I told them everything that had happened. My pastor looked down at the table for a second and said, “Well, this is a great opportunity for you two to experience hardship together. Let me buy you a beer.” So I drank a Shiner Bock while we discussed the matter and how my fiancée felt about it and how we intended to move forward together. Honestly, it was exactly what I needed. My pastor commiserated with me, thought I’d been treated rather unfairly—even if the content in question might be objectionable for the classroom. And this wasn’t from some Leftist-minded sort of clergyman, but a hard academic, conservative, Calvinist type. The shame that I felt I’d rightly heaped on myself began to slough off. This wasn’t some great moral failing on my part, though maybe not the most wise pedagogical decision for a Pentacostal school. I found that the others with whom I shared my story were all to varying degrees outraged on my behalf.

Of course, disallowing me to talk to the students about my “leave of absence” in an effort to not have Looking for Alaska proliferate across the school had the complete opposite effect. While I wasn’t there, I had many students and one teacher messaging me on Facebook and through email with some details about what was happening at the school. Apparently, the book was now probably the most widely read novel in the middle and high schools. (You’re welcome, John Green.) One student even reached out to Mr. Green (the author), letting him know what happened. He in turn reached out to me, which still to this day greatly moves me. I still have the messages from Facebook. I’ll include them here. I don’t think Mr. Green wrote anything here that he wouldn’t want made known.

—————————————————

5/11/09, 9:18 PM

John Green sent:

Hey,

If you aren’t the James Mungall in question, ignore this. 🙂

Several of your students have gotten in touch with me about your making Looking for Alaska available for them to read and what happened afterward.

I’m gutted about it, honestly. I always thought of the novel as Christian fiction to be perfectly honest (I’m a religious guy, and I wanted to write an honest novel about radical hope–about how and whether radical hope can stand up to the injustice of suffering in the world), and I’m sick at the thought that you standing up for my little book would cost you your job.

All of which is to say: Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.

Usually, when people say that, the phrase has a kind of absolute impotence about it. (e.g., “I’m sorry your sister died. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”) But in this particular case, there may actually be things I can do, including but not limited to:

1. Listening to the hideous story and not interrupting except periodically to say, “Unbelievable.”

2. Marshaling the not-insignificant resources available to me to make the school regret their decision.

I’d also be happy to try to get you a job somewhere else, if I can assist that process in any way.

Of course it’s possible that you completely regret having made the book available and hadn’t read it when you did so and are duly horrified and feel that you were justly relieved of your position, in which case we can happily go our philosophically separate ways. But if not: I’m really sorry. And I’m really moved by how passionately your kids feel about this.

Best,

John Green

————————————————————————–

5/11/09, 11:52 PM

James sent:

Mr. Green,

I’m the right James Mungall. No, I assigned the book because I knew it was an honest portrayal of young adult life and “the search.” It had been some years since I read it and had misplaced the sexual scenes in my mind. Nevertheless, for my former administration to say that it “lacked any literary value whatsoever” and it “was just as if you screened a pornographic film in class” really insulted my intelligence, and that of my students, who read, loved, and really pulled life-lessons from your novel.

I wouldn’t have minded being reprimanded for not having had the book pre-approved by the administration, and not informing the parents and offering an optional reading assignment. However, I don’t think I warranted dismissal.

The administration is working with me in my certification process, and are calling this a “leave of absence” rather than a termination. They are also keeping me on salary into the summer. In turn, I have agreed to finish any outstanding grades and write final exams. So, at this point, I’d not like to “stick it to the school.” I don’t want to be vindictive, but I think they’ve greatly overreacted and worse, they’re not informing students as to WHY I’ve been dismissed. Which is causing speculation from parents–“it must be something else, not just a book.” (I know that’s in part because they don’t want them going out and buying the book, but it’s a small school, so word gets around.)

I don’t know what else my kids told you. I’d like to give you a more detailed description… but it’s late, and I’m supposed to write their final. I owe them that.

I am in awe of my kids–some of whom I didn’t even officially teach. They just liked hanging out in my room after school. They are amazing… and they are looking to raise hell. I’ve never felt so loved.

That you emailed me means a lot. It says a lot about your character. I will give you more details as time allows. So I’ll take you up on #1… and shoot, if you can help anyway in finding me another job–although I don’t know how–I’d be happy to accept your aid.

In His Peace,

James Mungall

—————————————————————————

5/12/09, 11:10 AM

John Green sent:

Hey, James,

Well, this is devastating for you and for your family, and I’m sorry to have had a role in it. My policy when these things happen is to let you guide me about what if any response should come from me and my readers; it seems like for now you’ve made peace with their decision, and I absolutely respect that. If you want me to talk about this publicly, I’m happy to do so.

I did send an email at the behest of your students–I’ve pasted it below. I’ve also emailed a few teacher and librarian friends in LA to find out if they know of any h.s. English teaching jobs in Baton Rouge. That’s a long shot, of course, but it can’t hurt.

Anyway, don’t hesitate to let me know if I can be useful to you in any way–and again, I am so so so sorry that this has happened.

Best,

John

——————————————————————————————-

Dear Mr. ——- and Ms. ——–,

I worked hard to write a novel in the tradition of the great Christian fiction written by Flannery O’Connor and Walker Percy. After I graduated from college with a degree in religious studies, I spent several months working as a chaplain at a children’s hospital, and it was during that time of confronting the theological complexities of illness and suffering that I decided to write Looking for Alaska. When I sat down to write the novel, I wanted desperately to write a book about the Gospel: a book about the brokenness and sinfulness of human beings and the universality of forgiveness available to us–what theologians call radical hope.

I have heard now from several of your students that a teacher was fired for allowing young men and women to read my novel in your school. I am of course gutted to hear the news that someone was fired on account of my book. Alaska is taught in hundreds of high schools (including Christian schools) on three continents, and I have never heard of someone losing a job over it.

Please, please, please tell me that you read my whole novel–every word of it–before you chose to fire this person. That’s my only question, really: Have you read the book?

I look forward to hearing from you. If you’d rather call, my phone number is —————.

Sincerely,

John Green

————————————————————————–

I don’t think they ever actually read the book. But like I said, the students at the school sure did. They took some of the “stick-it-to-the-man” elements to heart, though I don’t know the full of it. I understand that they staged a walk-out, circulated a scathing petition to students and parents, obviously wrote John Green (who in turn wrote them), and I’m sure a few other things—though I either don’t remember them, or they weren’t told to me in full. I know quite a few private conversations were held—one in which a teacher likened me to Hitler. How she arrived at that analogy, I have no idea. The man she made the comparison to, was the only real friend I had in the entire school and took her to task for it.

The most damning private conversation I heard tale of was one of the seniors I didn’t even officially teach confronted the AP and asked her how I could be fired over a book, but a coach had slept with a student and still have his job. She allegedly responded that that was between the coach and the head pastor of the church and school. I had no clue about any such impropriety at the time, but years later that student did come forward and told her story that so many of her classmates already knew. It was the kind of story I had originally feared my reputation would be smeared with. Popular male teacher suddenly fired without any explanation… looks bad without any details. I’m thankful the book thing blew up like it did. I’d learn that there was even more impropriety going on at that school with other coaches—things students had reported to administration. But it was easier to fire the new English teacher because of a novel assignment.

I went on and got married the next month after school let out for summer, went on my honeymoon, and came back on the same day my grandfather succumbed to cancer. However, in my inbox was an email from the principal who was again furious with me.

He’d accused me of leaving my classroom in utter chaos, that the AP and my replacement had spent hours going through my paperwork—student paperwork really. I realized with a little bit of frustration and a healthy dose of amusement that they’d spent hours trying to make sense of mounds of old paperwork I’d put in a box meant for the recycling bin. I was terrible about handing back student work that was taken up as participation points. I put the grades directly in the system and let the stacks accumulate on my desk, in filing cabinets, and other nearby surfaces.

Further, he was furious I’d offered students a “study session” at a local coffee shop where we did a review of their final. Most of the kids who’d attended hadn’t seen or spoken to me since all the hullaballoo had gone down. I did go over their final exam in just as much detail as I would have in the classroom. But of course, they’d all aced it. So he assumed (I assume) I just gave them the answers. I didn’t. But it wasn’t a hard final. Of course, he never noticed my actual attempt to thumb my nose at him. I placed on the final a poem I wrote about my experience with my students that year. They were to write an essay analyzing it. Would have loved to have read some of the responses.

We are bolts of lightning—
Our lives flash into existence
and out again without seconds to ponder.
Thundering, we are heralds of the tempest!
We are potential in kinetic expression—
We burn hotter than suns.
We are beautiful,
We are fear mongers,
We are firestarters,
We are wayward with the clouds,
Guided and contained within our own chaos—
We are bolts of lightning.

I was still reeling from my grandfather’s death. I’d known it was coming, and he and I were very close. I was done being dictated to by this Knock-off John Malcovich. I stood up for myself, and ultimately told him to fulfill his word to me and sign the stupid paper. He did. I found a new job the next month teaching literacy. I’ve been teaching ever since.

What became of Knock-off John Malcovich? The next year, he fired my friend over even more specious grounds than mine. “Not showing the love of Christ,” he said. Though it more likely had to do with my friend’s refusal to modify athlete grades. That friend is now a full-fledged clergyman bytheway, so I have always found that “not showing the love of Christ” thing utterly laughable. Anyway, Knock-off John Malcovich would years later end up resigning in the wake of a widely publicized student-teacher sex scandal that happened under his watch. He’s still administrating elsewhere in another state, and I do wish him the best—which is why I have refused to name him here.

The school transferred ownership to a new organization some years later and then shuttered its doors altogether because of low enrollment. I learned a lot in that place. It made me largely into the teacher I am today.

I never spoke corresponded with John Green again, though I still enjoy his writing–particularly Looking for Alaska. I feel like his style of dialogue and interplay between characters has some significant influences on some of my writing–particularly Awyn, Fiona, Beorn, and Alfrich in Antiphon.

My students? Well they’re all grown now of course. I keep up with some of them still. Some are in ministry, engineers, doctors, industrial entrepreneurs, journalists, and countless other professions. But all in all, from what I can tell, they’ve grown into successful adults–parents some of them. They’ve been great to get to know more as adults. They’re older now than I was when I was teaching them–so I guess that dates me a bit. Despite any hardship, I found my first year teaching to be my most rewarding.
The Book that Got Me Fired: Part I

February 18th, 2023

Before

From the very start of my teaching career, I have always been passionate about encouraging my students to read, explore new ideas, and think critically. But one day, that passion mixed with youthful indiscretion and ended up costing me my job.

When I first started teaching, my brother told me that I’d never want for a story to tell at parties. This is one story I don’t particularly love telling, but it’s time I shared it more publicly. It’s about what can happen when you think you can do it all and end up pushing the boundaries of what is considered acceptable in a school setting. In this blog post, I’ll share the story of when I got fired for assigning a novel that my school administration found objectionable.

My first teaching job was at a private religious school where I filled a vacancy while I finished my alternative certification requirements to teach. I had just finished college with a degree in English and did my student teaching for their summer school. They hired me on, and I began teaching freshman and junior English classes. When I asked the AP of Instruction if there was any curriculum they wanted followed, I was handed a new text book for each course, and told to do a novel study or two.

I had no idea what I was doing, but with that youthful stupidity and arrogance of one fresh out of college, I pretended I knew exactly what I was doing. I showed up early and stayed late. (I wasn’t married yet, so I had little in the way of home responsibilities). It wasn’t long before I had a consistent group of students hanging out in my room at the end of the day while they waited for their rides or just delayed driving home for the day. We talked about all sorts of things, whether it was a continuation of the class discussion, religion and philosophy, or music and poetry. They started calling themselves “5^th Period,” but the AP of Instruction called it “Mr. Mungall’s Fan Club.” I never liked the latter name, because it wasn’t all about me. I was just the facilitator.

The school year continued, and I had a few minor run-ins with the administration, but nothing that required a reprimand, just explanations. Then for my eleven juniors in English III Honors, I told them I was going to assign them Moby-Dick. I’d already assigned them Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle, which wasn’t an easy read. They groaned… they moaned… they begged and pleaded to read something else, ANYthing else. I thought about it. They were my best performing students. For our novel studies, I conducted the class much like a college literature course: assigned the readings, and we’d sit in a circle and discuss the works as a class. It was great fun, everyone got to share, everyone found it rewarding. I mean, I genuinely liked the kids, and I figured there was something else we could read that would be fun. I thought about some different books I read in college and remembered only vaguely having sped through John Green’s award-winning Looking for Alaska. I didn’t remember all the details of the book at the time, but I remembered it being a great thought-provoking read with fun unique characters and really engaging dialogue. So the next class, I relented and told them we’d be reading the much more enjoyable Looking for Alaska, and that they should pick up their copies soon. (I should probably add that this was in 2009, well-before the story had been adapted for the television screen.)

The novel tells the story of Miles Halter, a high school student who transfers to Culver Creek, a boarding school in Alabama, where he meets his roommate, Chip “The Colonel” Martin, and Alaska Young, a beautiful and enigmatic girl who quickly becomes the object of Miles’ affection.

The book is divided into two parts, “Before” and “After,” with the latter section dealing with the aftermath of a tragic event that occurs in the middle of the book. The story explores themes of friendship, love, loss, and the search for meaning and understanding in life.

It also deals with some heavy topics such as mental health, suicide, and substance abuse, and Green handles these topics with sensitivity and honesty. He does not shy away from the difficult questions and does not offer easy or explicit answers, which I personally appreciated as it really lends a lot to the open discussion model I used in the classroom.

One of the criticisms of the book is that it romanticizes self-destructive behavior, particularly in the character of Alaska. Some readers argue that her actions are glamorized, and that the book fails to adequately address the consequences of her behavior. I don’t personally agree with that criticism, but again, it’s worth discussing!

The criticisms wouldn’t stop there, of course. As I reread the novel just barely ahead of my students, my then fiancée and now ex-wife said on the phone: “Um… weren’t there some pretty racy scenes in that book?” That evening, I came to a few of those troublesome sections—particularly a really awkward oral sex scene. The scene itself wasn’t written to titillate, actually seemed particularly crafted to emphasize the awkwardness and the foolishness of loveless intimacy. I flushed red, angry with myself. The kids would be reading this part soon enough. It wasn’t anything these juniors hadn’t heard before, but not in my classroom. We talked about all manner of things, but there are some things that should not be discussed in the classroom.

The day came to discuss the reading section that contained the passage. “We’re not going to discuss that part,” I said. “I’d forgotten that was even in the book.” And we just moved past it. I was proud of the maturity of my students, and happy to have moved past my blunder.

I think it was the next week while I was covering for the Chemistry teacher that I got called to the principal’s office. Always having been a pretty decent kid in school (if a bit lazy), being called in to the office wasn’t something I was ever comfortable with. The principal had always been a nice-enough man, though I didn’t much care for how he expressed matters of faith. He kind of struck me as having a time-bombesque quality. I thought he mildly resembled a paunchy John Malcovich, whose roles have occasioned to have an intensity I find both enthralling and terrifying. Well, it seems that my impressions were truer than an uncanny celebrity resemblance. He was pissed and wasn’t afraid to show it at that point. He demanded an explanation as to why I’d assigned Looking for Alaska as it was a book “against everything we stand for.” That it “lacked any literary value whatsoever,” and “It was just as if you screened a pornographic film in your class.” I did what I had learned to do since childhood—plead mea culpa. Don’t make excuses, just own it. I explained what had happened, feeling every bit like a child in front of an angry principal. That I’d read the book in college had enjoyed it then, had forgotten about the scene. “Enjoyed it?” Knock-off John Malkovich was incredulous. It was then I realized that it wasn’t just the one sexually explicit scene that was the issue. It was the dialogue, the coarse language, the pranks, the students vs. teachers tropes, the references to other faiths alongside Christianity—literally everything. He didn’t fire me. He told me I would write an apology to every parent and reimburse them the cost of the novels, which they’d be collecting from the students. He said, “This is your job on the line.”

I was, unsurprisingly, reeling. “This is your job on the line,” meant I wasn’t fired—at least not yet. I had hope. I was getting married in about two months’ time. And while in retrospect, the $28k I was pulling in as a full-time teacher in 2009 wasn’t any great shakes, it was the only job I had. Further, I needed to complete the year and get my principal’s signature to finish out my certification process. I didn’t know I had an anxiety problem at the time, but I spent the rest of the day in a bit of an anxious haze. In my off-period, I wrote the apology letter I would be sending to the eleven sets of parents. I began packing all my books from my personal classroom library. I assumed the worst, and I wanted to get a jump on things. I couldn’t speak with my other students about the matter of course, but they knew something was up. I honestly don’t remember what we did in class that day. Then the final class period came—English III Honors. The knock-off John Malcovich and the AP of Instruction came in… They collected those copies of Looking for Alaska from those students who’d brought them that day. I remember one of my favorite students looked in horror after they took her note-ridden copy, because when they started in on me, she knew she wasn’t getting it back. I don’t remember exactly what they said anymore. I have long used the phrase: “They reamed me in front of my class.” They denounced the book, they denounced me and my lack of judgment for assigning the book. They said some of the same things that had been said in the private meeting, but I can’t remember exactly how they were phrased. They promised that I’d be reimbursing them for the cost of the books that they were going to destroy. They asked if I had anything to say to my class. All I could manage was, “I’m really sorry, guys,” while I held back tears.

Class was silent until they left. Then there was various outpourings of support for me, outrage at them, pretty much the gamut, save for one student who was strangely quiet. I thought nothing of it at the time, but that was the student, I’d later learn, who snitched. I don’t bear the student any ill-will, of course. This isn’t just long over, it’s also that I don’t do things in my classroom that can’t be told to parents. This experience helped me better formulate that policy in my own teaching philosophy. I barely remember that class period though. I do remember tears from some students—them asking if I was getting fired (seeing how I’d packed my books already). I told them I wasn’t sure but I’d be finding out in about an hour, after class was over. Some of them stayed behind and waited as I went, again, to the principal’s office.

Tomorrow… we discuss After.

Tag: novels

Escapism—The Enabler

The Book that Got Me Fired: Part II

The Book that Got Me Fired: Part I