I had a very interesting week in early November, and I’m happy that I had so many other stories on my writing plate at the time that I’ve waited until now to tell you about it.
My excellent adventure actually started last summer when June Dunbar, who is the Youth Services Coordinator at the Vigo County Public Library, asked me if I’d be interested in speaking to Vigo County schoolchildren about writing. You see, besides handling her job at the library, and filling the tall order of keeping an eye on her husband, Jim, June is on the steering committee of PALS, otherwise known as Partners Advancing Literacy.
PALS formed nearly four years ago, and in its own words, its goal is to “celebrate literacy and lower the relationship, skill and resource barriers that inhibit high levels of literacy.” In my mind, that simply means that these good folks want to make it easier to help local kids learn how to read and write better, and perhaps enjoy it more, too. How could I say no?
So, despite some serious doubts as to whether I was qualified to tackle the job, I said, “OK.” I mean, it’s wasn’t like I hadn’t been in front of students before, and I have done a fair share of writing. Besides, speaking to a few small groups of kids couldn’t be that tough.
By early fall, the plan had changed a little. Instead of speaking at 16 elementary schools, would I be interested in going to the six middle schools in the county and meeting with sixth-graders? By then, June had handed the difficult task of dealing with my temperament to Gail Artis, the Vigo County School Corp.’s curriculum coordinator. Gail told me that some of the groups I’d be speaking to would be more than 250 students.
It was at that point that my arm pits began to moisten and my feet began to chill. How was I going to keep that many sixth-graders entertained for an hour at a time when the topic was writing? I began to have difficulty swallowing food, and I formed images of myself standing before the kids in darkened gymnasiums, my face bathed in sweat as I tried to tap-dance myself through the remaining 51 minutes of an already failed presentation. Some of the kids would be telling their teachers that they’d rather go back to class and work on their algebra, even scrape spilled Jell-O off the cafeteria floor…
I should have known that my imagination, which works well for me as a writer, was out of control as I anticipated my Titanic-like maiden voyage toward public speaking disaster. In reality, I actually ran out of time at each school and the kids were fantastic. They laughed at my stale jokes without cue-card prompts, asked a ton of questions, hurled no vegetables my way, and applauded when I was finished. They were well-mannered and interested and fun. And then, to top it all off, I began, a few weeks later, to receive their letters.
It may sound like a job worse than a root canal to read through a ream of letters from sixth-graders, but I absolutely loved it. Every few days, a manila envelope of them would arrive in the mail, and I would try to read them straight through, grinning and nodding my head the whole time. God bless their teachers for sending them to me.
I’m going to forgive many of the kids for mangling my name — credit card companies and banks and department stores staffed by adults do that all the time — so instead, I put together a highlight reel of the best of the best. In turn, I was Mr. Lungsford, Mr. Lunforb, Mr. Lingford, Mr. Lunsfurd, Mr. Linsford, Mr. Lunslord, Mr. Lingsford, Mr. Lumsford, Mr. Lundsford, Mr. Lunaford, and, my favorite, Mr. Lunglard. I loved it.
The best things in the letters, however, were not misspelled names. I soon discovered that these kids have brains, and they have hopes and dreams, too. As you can imagine, I don’t have the space here to tell you about all of them.
For instance, Mikaela told me that she already had won two writing contests, but she wants to learn all she can to get better. Cole said he loved to read because he got “to explore a different world.” Matthew said he’s never liked reading or writing, but he’s going to try to do both now. Mallory said she loves to read because it’s “so much better than TV and has so much more detail.”
Kaitlyn wrote a nice thank-you note and said I had “refreshed [their] minds.” Katila shared her dream of being a photographer with me; she says she can express her feelings better through pictures. Robbie was very upfront with me; he said that some of his classmates were bored by my little talk, but if I hadn’t come, he would have been “devastated.”
Brandon said my “speech really spoke” to him; James and Laci both said they were happy that I came because they missed math class; Izzy said she has to be in the mood to write; and Jamie-Lynn says she doesn’t like to write too much because it hurts her hand. Desirae said she learned that “reality can be sad, funny, and happy.”
Hadley wanted to give me a cat; Chasidy said that some of my ideas were now “tattooed to [her] brain;” Jazmine said that I reminded her that “a little criticism is good and it helps create better writing.” Uzziah wants me to write a kids’ book; Brieana says I “rock,” and Noah told me he aspires to be an English teacher some day. Caitlynn said I was “breathtaking,” and I just want her to know that she has a great future in a career in sales.
Kristina says she wants to be a chef, but says she’s a “fellow writer,” as well. Sering-Joo [I sure hope I got the name correct], who already knows what a simile is, said, “I hope your new book sells like turkeys on Thanksgiving.” Lane said that, like me, he was a “country boy”; Grace said I “looked like I knew what I was doing;” and Daniel, bless his heart, said that “we [students] should think about our teachers having to grade all of our paragraphs.” Jennifer tells me she writes for a newspaper and loves animals.
Kianna wrote: “I find it quite fascinating when I get indulged in a good book,” and Colton said he was interested in “writing some stories myself.” Capricious says I should come to her school again “just for fun,” and Megan, who wrote a very nice long letter, said, “The thing that you said that stayed with me is ‘don’t write to make others happy; write to make you happy.’” I hope I take my own advice, Megan.
I could go on for a long time and tell you what all of my new friends had to say, but I can’t. I will say that my time in those schools showed me just how incomplete my education is, that I know I have much yet to learn, and that sometimes the very best teachers and writers are about 12 years old.
Before she closed her letter, Cecilia said, “I bet you’re still reading letters, so I won’t bother you anymore.”
Cecilia, it was no bother at all.
Mike Lunsford can be reached at hickory913@aol.com or by mail c/o the Tribune-Star, P.O. Box 149, Terre Haute, IN 47808. Mike will be signing his second book, “Sidelines,” at the Pizza Hut Wabash Valley Classic this week. Visit his Web site at www.mikelunsford.com.
Mike Lunsford
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Discussion
The Off Season: Mr. Lunglard’s incomplete education
- Mike Lunsford
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MIKE LUNSFORD: Books open our eyes to that which we will never see
I got a letter last week from a friend, Sister Margaret Quinlan, who lives amidst the beauty of the St. Mary-of-the-Woods campus. Besides the email space and the time she invests in describing the flowers and trees and birds that she shares with her roomies out there, as well as her accounts of teaching and traveling, Margaret most often writes about books. She loves them, and she knows I do, too.
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MIKE LUNSFORD: Hoping to master the art of taking a nap
I got away from work as early as I could one day last week. It was a cloudy day, filled with grayness and rain, and my head felt as if I had inhaled my pillow the night before. My throat suggested I’d swallowed a wood rasp, too, and my eyes felt as though I was looking through someone else’s glasses. Yet, I had work do, this column being on the list of chores.
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MIKE LUNSFORD: Windy companion finally gives him the cold shoulder
The wind came to visit us this week. We live on the knob of a hill that overlooks a Raccoon Creek valley, and it is a breezy spot year-round, but this wind was the kind that ushers in a full-blown front from Canada, perhaps just to remind us that cold weather is going to be the boss around here for a while. No matter how surprising our mild winter has been so far, this kind of wind tells us not to expect many more warm days over the next few months.
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SIDELINES: Good for even a traditional Classic buff
Lights down, tree out, another year gone at the Classic.
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THE OFF SEASON: The more things change, the more they keep changing
I must have had at least a dozen people ask at my son’s wedding a few weeks ago whether I cried, or “how I was handling losing him.” I think they all knew just how tight I am with my two kids, and thought I must have come completely unglued when it finally hit me that he was on his own for good, that the rules had changed nearly as much in my life when he said ,“I do,” as they did for him.
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Lunsford signing new book at Brazil Coffee Grounds
Parke County writer Mike Lunsford will be signing his latest book, “A Place Near Home” (Shade Tree Press; $15) from 10:30 a.m. to 1 p.m. Saturday at Coffee Grounds, Bakery and Coffee Shop in Brazil.
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MIKE LUNSFORD: In the neighborhood with the ‘fantastic’ Mr. Fox
As we drove home late one night last week, my wife and I, both a bit drowsy and anxious for a warm bed and a long nap, were surprised to see a red fox as it darted across the road. He made his appearance in a flash — just a bit of nose and fur and bushy tail — as he jumped out of a ditch in front of our car and was caught in the glare of our headlights on his way to the relative safety of an apple orchard.
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MIKE LUNSFORD: The lizard wore long johns, and other Halloween tales
We stocked our house with a supply of Halloween candy last week; Joanie and I stopped into the new dollar store in town and filled a grocery cart with Butterfingers and Baby Ruths and Three Musketeers bars. Every aromatic bit of it has been calling to me from the orange-and-black baskets we keep on a living room trunk ever since.
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MIKE LUNSFORD: Here’s to the simple beauty of an untended garden…
I can hear a combine eating its way across a nearby cornfield as I write this on a Saturday evening. It is a sound that signals the end of one season and the beginning of anot
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The Off Season: Listening to Mozart is a ‘purr-fect’ way to relax
Regardless of what some people may believe, classical music fans are not snobs. They come from all walks of life, fall into all income brackets, and they’re not required to understand or analyze anything to which they’re listening; they just need to enjoy themselves.
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MIKE LUNSFORD: Fall’s arrival heralded in ever-present fencerows
As much as I hate summer to leave us, I am happy that fall is just around the corner. It has been a bone-dry season, one in which I’ve watched my yard bake and crack like an old pie crust. My wife and I are still spending our evenings going about the business of watering flowers, standing with a dribbling hose in our hands, optimistically hoping that our drought will be broken because we’ve tempted the weather fates to do us one better and give us a good rain.
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MIKE LUNSFORD: The value of hard work goes well beyond a paycheck
Years ago, I used to drive into Rosedale to get my workday started with a big cup of black coffee. Every morning, Monday through Friday, until the town grocery store’s business dried up and blew away, you could have found me slipping through a back door — left unlocked for the early birds — of the old Red and White, 15 minutes before it opened for official business.
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MIKE LUNSFORD: Life’s little conveniences actually can be quite annoying
I am aware that much of the language I use is outdated, stodgy, old-fashioned; I apologize.
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The Off Season: Another sad passing: One-time trendsetter can’t keep up
I wandered into the local mall bookstore the other day. My wife and I had come to town with a list of chores to do and things to buy, but whenever we venture anywhere near a place with book shelves and sales tables and racks of paperbacks, we’re attracted to the scent of ink and the sight of book covers like bees to clover .
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MIKE LUNSFORD: Overheated in Hobart and other vacation tales…
My family climbed into our van and headed to Michigan a few weeks ago, just as we do every other year or so, to stay on the great lake there, for we have come to love its cool breezes and blue water and lighthouses.
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MIKE LUNSFORD: Silence is wonderful, as long as you don’t take it too far
I have visited this topic — how it is often only through inconvenience that we come to appreciate the comforts we have in life — before.
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MIKE LUNSFORD: His tolerance for insects ends with sawyer beetles
As I sloshed a can of water over a pot of red petunias a Sunday morning ago, I saw a pine sawyer beetle make its way slowly up the vinyl siding near my front door. I swatted it to the concrete, and smashed it with my shoe … with impunity, I might add.
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MIKE LUNSFORD: Storm damage makes you appreciate home
My wife and I hadn’t been into town for a good while when we drove in from our place to visit her doctor and my favorite hardware store last week.
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Paying respect in more way than one way…
It has become a habit of mine on Mother’s Day to go to Rosedale Cemetery and lay a few irises on my mom’s grave.
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The Off Season: On the trail with Max the Mushroom Cat
The wet weather and a busy calendar have kept my wife and me from doing what we’ve really wanted to do for a while. Ever since the thermometer began to stay consistently above 40 and the grass started to green, we’ve wanted to get outside, get some sun on our arms, and get down to the wetlands to watch the geese make their landings with a flourish and a honk.
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THE OFF SEASON: So much to do; so little time…
My wife’s aunt, Martha Jean McCarthy, passed away earlier this month; she was 85 years old. Martha Jean was kind and generous and busy her entire life.
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MIKE LUNSFORD: A lesson plan for public schools
I am an advocate of public education; I pull no punches about that. I have taught in public schools for 32 years, and I think it is an inherently American institution.
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THE OFF SEASON: Craning to see elegance in flight
Just before midnight last night, spring officially slipped quietly into our back yards, but I doubt that any of us noticed it much this morning as we slurped our coffee or downed our eggs over this newspaper.
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The office boy who became a poet
I made up my mind when I moved my home office out of the house last summer that I’d organize some of my books, that I’d categorize and catalogue them in a way that would help me find the one I wanted when I wanted it. I can’t say it worked out as well as I had hoped. Already, I have the overflow stacked on the floor and shoved into the spaces where previous tenants once lived. Gradually, expediency is replacing order, so fiction and non-fiction, biographies and novels, are scandalously co-mingling on my shelves.
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THE OFF SEASON: The office boy who became a poet
I made up my mind when I moved my home office out of the house last summer that I’d organize some of my books, that I’d categorize and catalogue them in a way that would help me find the one I wanted when I wanted it. I can’t say it worked out as well as I had hoped.
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THE OFF SEASON: It’s taken long time to say thanks…
It was with a cup of coffee and a newspaper in my hands a few Mondays ago that I discovered that Mr. Hapenny had died.
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THE OFF SEASON: Lessons learned from the night the ice fell
The picture window of my cabin is sealed in a perfect glaze of ice as I write this, last Thursday morning, and since it faces due north and sees little direct sunlight, I imagine I will be looking through this shower door glass of mine for a few more days. But since I sit and watch the woods much of the time, instead of writing, I suppose the ice is serving a rare good purpose in keeping me on task.
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The Off Season: Pass a ‘midnight dreary’ with The Big Read
It was a pretty poor excuse for an evening one night last week as I lay beside our glowing fireplace, a pillow propped behind my head. I was spending some time with my current read, enjoying each page in the semi-darkness, smug in the knowledge that I’d not be heading to my classroom the next day.
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The Off Season: ‘Too old and too lazy’ to deal with coyotes
Despite the cold and the ever-present winter breezes that blow across our hill these days, I often find myself, even in the blue evenings, standing on the walk near my cabin, looking at the stars or watching for the last red-tailed hawks of the day as they float by in the drafts.
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The Off Season: The passion of having a passion is a great thing
It just occurred to me that I am fortunate to have a passion — a drive to do something that takes me away from the clutches of my job, of home repairs, of the mundane and the ho-hum.
- More Mike Lunsford Headlines
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MIKE LUNSFORD: Books open our eyes to that which we will never see
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