The late Harlan Ellison always stood up for what he believed in, and quite frequently what he believed in was getting paid for his work.
Watch this. The video contains profanity and rightfully so. This post does too, something I don't ever use in my public writing, but in this case, it's warranted.
Teachers should take a lesson from Ellison. I keep reading on Twitter about how teachers shouldn't have to pay teachers for lesson plans and everyone should share freely what they have created and I feel like I am now expected to go around singing, "Kumbaya."
BULLSHIT.
This is absolutely, positively the wrong approach to take. I studied hard, paid for a good education, taught for 32 years, and my expertise is not free. I have been asked 1,000 times to write lesson plans for this school activity or assessments for that one, and every last time I say the same thing: I will absolutely do that for you. How much does it pay? Every last time, I'd hear a sputter. "Why, we'll give you release time." Um, thanks, but no thanks. Making me write lesson plans for a substitute is not compensation. It's more work for no pay, and my students suffer. In my school system, and I'm sure in many others, there is a negotiated pay rate for curriculum writing. It's there for a reason. Work done outside your normal job description should be compensated at the agreed upon rate. The end.
So, why is it, then, that teachers do it anyway? "It's for the children," they say. More bullshit. It's a mandate by administration, and if you stick together and refuse to do it for free, they'd pay you. The median age of teachers is shrinking rapidly, and we old guard-types aren't hanging around to show them the ropes. We get dismissed out of hand because we actually want to be paid for our work. "Teaching is a calling," "It's just who I am." "You're just burned out." You know what? You go all out in your classroom and I respect the hell out of that. But if you do free work for someone who is going to use that fact to get promoted onward and upward within administration, and you are simply a chump.
Enjoy being a sucker for the next 30 years because once they find out they can get it out of you without paying you, you'll never stand a chance of regaining what so many of us fought for before you were even born.
It's not noble. It's not heroic. It's stupid.
The same goes for Teachers Pay Teachers. I keep reading about how teachers shouldn't profit from other teachers.
BULLSHIT.
My TpT Solution Squad Primer Full Package includes a 113-screen digital comic that I wrote and lettered and PAID an artist $4,800 to draw. Am I supposed to give it away for free? How are we supposed to create more original materials that are creative and attention-grabbing like my comic? Play the lottery? If you are creating something on your own time that is better than what someone else can come up with on their own because you have the skill, talent, knowledge, and drive to do so, you deserve to be paid for that. Teachers do not take a vow of poverty, and we are not required to sell our services to Pearson for pennies on the dollar for our efforts. The work of teacher entrepreneurs are like what charter schools were supposed to be: Something outside the everyday that makes students stand up and notice. It's your chance to experiment, try new things, and get paid for it. Stop dismissing the idea out of hand because you are already woefully underpaid.
Because if you are underpaid, maybe you should have demanded curriculum rate for those free lesson plans and tests you wrote.
Thursday, July 4, 2019
Tuesday, June 25, 2019
Putting Away Childish Things
This is one of my favorite comic books. Superman #338 came out in late May 1979. I was 14 years old, and just finishing eighth grade in Mesick, Michigan. I didn't know it then, but it was a golden time to be a Superman fan. While Batman was my first and favorite hero, Superman was a natural pairing for me. They had had the Batman-Superman Hour as a cartoon in 1969, they had a team-up book (World's Finest) which was one of my favorites, and they were both in the Justice League of America.
Superman's mythology was still completely intact at the time. The bottle city of Kandor, The Fortress of Solitude at the North Pole with the giant yellow key disguised as an aircraft marker, the works. There were all kinds of Kryptonite that had different effects on Kryptonians, there were Bizarros that had their own world, Superman could fly into space without a space suit, travel through time, and the wonders of his universe knew no bounds. And Supergirl was wearing what is still my favorite of her costumes, the one with the billowy sleeves and hot pants. I was 14, okay? In the story, Superman finally succeeds in developing a way to enlarge the bottle city on another planet, so that the surviving Kryptonians from Kandor would have a home outside his Fortress of Solitude. But sadly, the entire city crumbles to dust, as the enlarging ray only worked on "animate objects," leaving the people alive but without their city. More on that in a bit.
Just as Star Wars had a major impact on me at age 12, Superman The Movie brought me right back to my comic book roots. At the time this comic book came out, Superman was just leaving theaters after a very successful first run. And I was already buying everything to do with it before the movie even came out. There was the score on vinyl, trading cards, magazines, Limited Collectors Edition reprints, and of course, the comic books. With great financial need came my first job.
There was an opening for delivering newspapers for the Traverse City Record-Eagle, and I jumped at the chance to take it. Just one problem: I needed a bike to get around. While we lived close to town, walking to school and Little League practices was getting old. Add a paper route to that, and it was time to move up. I owned a single-speed Columbia that was a good bike, but a bit small for me. So, I sold that, and my grandparents gave me a loan of $85 to buy a new Huffy 10-speed. In return, I would pay them back half of my newspaper route money each week. I thought that a perfectly fair deal, and I had my bike the next day.
The Record-Eagle only printed six days a week. There was no Sunday paper, which made Monday's paper the thickest. It had all the weekly ads. The papers were delivered to my house in the afternoon, right about 3:40 PM. The newspapers were delivered flat, and I would cut them loose and put them in my bag. Also in my bag was my battery-powered cassette recorder, which blared the Superman soundtrack wherever I went. I had painstakingly recorded the Superman score from vinyl to a blank tape in my tape recorder. My bike was stable enough that you would have often seen me riding with both my arms outstretched in front of me. I could finish the whole three-mile route in about 25 minutes unless it was collection day. That's when I had to go around and collect $1.05 per week from each subscriber. They would pay the money, and I would punch the dates paid from a card that I kept on a ring. The problem was that I had to shell out the money for the newspaper subscriptions in advance. And if they didn't pay, I didn't have the money to pay for my papers. Yes, even back then, subcontracting was the way to go for businesses. I never liked having to explain that to people, but they needed to know that if they didn't pay, I was the one on the hook for their newspaper costs.
The rest of the summer days were left to me. I deliberately took a photo of Superman #338 with the shadows of tree leaves on it. Because that was the best way to spend time in the summer, reading comics outdoors in the shade. Air conditioning was available at my grandparents' house, just across a small field, but time alone with my imagination, comic books, and drawing paper was really all that I needed. With the Copemish Flea Market being held every weekend nearby, my grandma and I would be off to pick up fresh produce for the week, while I would always find the guy with cheap comic books.
As summer went on, though, things changed. I suddenly realized that I would be starting high school in September. And the story in Superman #338 kept coming back to me. After the destruction of all the inanimate matter in Kandor (except clothing, apparently) Superman felt so guilty about the tragedy that he was going to stay to help the Kandorians rebuild. His friend Van-Zee, however sucker punched him, knocking Superman unconscious, telling Supergirl that they needed to leave because the Kandorians had chosen a world that would only occasionally be in the same dimension as Earth. They had chosen it so that they could sever all ties with Superman and be independent. I didn't understand the term patriarchy at the time, but I got the idea. The Kandorians wanted to stand on their own and tame a new world without Superman's fatherly protective gaze looking over them all the time. I was starting to feel the same way. I didn't need people telling me what to do all the time, either. I had my first job and was earning my own money for the first time.
The comic book guy at the flea market didn't just sell comics. He traded them two-for-one. I never spent any more money there. I started trading my existing comics for the ones he had that I hadn't read yet. And over the next several weeks, my collection, started only two and a half years previously, dwindled. I would buy only one more Superman comic, Action Comics #500, before the end of summer, but in the end, that too, would be gone. I was saying goodbye to my childhood, not just to my newly-discovered free childhood, but to my stolen childhood as well.
In the fall, I started playing varsity football as a freshman. And then basketball in the winter, and baseball in the spring into summer. My focus was decidedly different, and more grown up, or so I imagined. But what I learned over the four years of high school was that the social structures of high school relationships could be just as fragile as a house of cards. Most of the friendships I made through sports did not survive the four years. I was simply too different in what I believed and in what I enjoyed. I refused to get drunk every weekend like all of my peers, and my gravitation toward nerdy things remained, even though I resisted comic books. I would still read science fiction novels, movie tie-ins, and the like. In my mind, I had finally put away "childish things."
Thank goodness I came to my senses.
The rest of the summer days were left to me. I deliberately took a photo of Superman #338 with the shadows of tree leaves on it. Because that was the best way to spend time in the summer, reading comics outdoors in the shade. Air conditioning was available at my grandparents' house, just across a small field, but time alone with my imagination, comic books, and drawing paper was really all that I needed. With the Copemish Flea Market being held every weekend nearby, my grandma and I would be off to pick up fresh produce for the week, while I would always find the guy with cheap comic books.
As summer went on, though, things changed. I suddenly realized that I would be starting high school in September. And the story in Superman #338 kept coming back to me. After the destruction of all the inanimate matter in Kandor (except clothing, apparently) Superman felt so guilty about the tragedy that he was going to stay to help the Kandorians rebuild. His friend Van-Zee, however sucker punched him, knocking Superman unconscious, telling Supergirl that they needed to leave because the Kandorians had chosen a world that would only occasionally be in the same dimension as Earth. They had chosen it so that they could sever all ties with Superman and be independent. I didn't understand the term patriarchy at the time, but I got the idea. The Kandorians wanted to stand on their own and tame a new world without Superman's fatherly protective gaze looking over them all the time. I was starting to feel the same way. I didn't need people telling me what to do all the time, either. I had my first job and was earning my own money for the first time.
The comic book guy at the flea market didn't just sell comics. He traded them two-for-one. I never spent any more money there. I started trading my existing comics for the ones he had that I hadn't read yet. And over the next several weeks, my collection, started only two and a half years previously, dwindled. I would buy only one more Superman comic, Action Comics #500, before the end of summer, but in the end, that too, would be gone. I was saying goodbye to my childhood, not just to my newly-discovered free childhood, but to my stolen childhood as well.
In the fall, I started playing varsity football as a freshman. And then basketball in the winter, and baseball in the spring into summer. My focus was decidedly different, and more grown up, or so I imagined. But what I learned over the four years of high school was that the social structures of high school relationships could be just as fragile as a house of cards. Most of the friendships I made through sports did not survive the four years. I was simply too different in what I believed and in what I enjoyed. I refused to get drunk every weekend like all of my peers, and my gravitation toward nerdy things remained, even though I resisted comic books. I would still read science fiction novels, movie tie-ins, and the like. In my mind, I had finally put away "childish things."
Thank goodness I came to my senses.
Tuesday, June 18, 2019
Old Dogs and New Tricks
I learned a valuable lesson this past weekend: I can't work for anyone.
Okay, that may be overstating it a bit. Clearly, I can teach under a principal and such. But I went to a portfolio review given by a well-known editor of graphic novels this weekend, handed over my Solution Squad book, and they thumbed through it for about 20 seconds before telling me that I'd be better served by making a nonfiction math graphic novel. I visibly flinched. I know I did. And before I could stop myself, I told this person very plainly that as a math teacher with three decades of experience, that respectfully, there was nothing worse I could imagine than a nonfiction math graphic novel.
I was told that kids would want character-driven stories in which math was used. I responded curtly with, "That's exactly what this is." Then came the final straw. They condescendingly said, "Have you ever heard of Gene Luen Yang and Nathan Hale?" I almost laughed out loud. I turned the book over and pointed to the two blurbs on the back cover of my book by...Gene Luen Yang and Nathan Hale.
"You mean these guys?"
I ended up walking away after standing in line for an hour with a new perspective. I may not be the best-selling author in the world, but just because someone works and is known in the industry, it doesn't make them an authority on everything in it. On the other hand, they may be completely right and I'm wrong. But I'm not going to spend the rest of my life making books I don't want to make. I won't be working on comics for this person, and I'm pretty sure I'm not going to work for anyone else, either. I've spent enough years listening to people who know less about what I do than I do, and having to do what they say. If I fail, I will fail because of my own actions, not because someone wants me to be the next Gene Luen Yang or Nathan Hale. I love those guys and everything they do, but I'm never going to be them.
I'm going to be the best Jim McClain there is.
Okay, that may be overstating it a bit. Clearly, I can teach under a principal and such. But I went to a portfolio review given by a well-known editor of graphic novels this weekend, handed over my Solution Squad book, and they thumbed through it for about 20 seconds before telling me that I'd be better served by making a nonfiction math graphic novel. I visibly flinched. I know I did. And before I could stop myself, I told this person very plainly that as a math teacher with three decades of experience, that respectfully, there was nothing worse I could imagine than a nonfiction math graphic novel.
I was told that kids would want character-driven stories in which math was used. I responded curtly with, "That's exactly what this is." Then came the final straw. They condescendingly said, "Have you ever heard of Gene Luen Yang and Nathan Hale?" I almost laughed out loud. I turned the book over and pointed to the two blurbs on the back cover of my book by...Gene Luen Yang and Nathan Hale.
"You mean these guys?"
I ended up walking away after standing in line for an hour with a new perspective. I may not be the best-selling author in the world, but just because someone works and is known in the industry, it doesn't make them an authority on everything in it. On the other hand, they may be completely right and I'm wrong. But I'm not going to spend the rest of my life making books I don't want to make. I won't be working on comics for this person, and I'm pretty sure I'm not going to work for anyone else, either. I've spent enough years listening to people who know less about what I do than I do, and having to do what they say. If I fail, I will fail because of my own actions, not because someone wants me to be the next Gene Luen Yang or Nathan Hale. I love those guys and everything they do, but I'm never going to be them.
I'm going to be the best Jim McClain there is.
Monday, June 17, 2019
"The Big Boy"
"We're going to the Big Boy for dinner."
Just after I graduated from high school, I lived with my dad in his one-bedroom apartment in Cadillac, Michigan. I slept on a futon in the living room, so you can probably figure out what the expectation was for my future living arrangements. The writing was kind of on the wall, wasn't it? He had left my hometown of Mesick after his fourth divorce, and moved 20 miles away to where he had gotten a new job. I stayed behind to finish my senior year of high school, living with my friend, Ken LaFountain. Ken's mom was a foster mother, and had a big farmhouse west of Mesick. I paid $40 a week to stay there, which I earned by working at Crystal Mountain ski resort on weekends. I wanted to be truly independent from my father, and I was. He still came to my sporting events, so I'd still get to see him a couple of times a week.
Right after I graduated, I got a job working at my dad's place of employment, Four Winns Boats in Cadillac. They're everywhere now, but this was fairly early in their history, because my employee number was 150. I worked the night shift while he worked the day shift that summer, But on weekends, it was the same every time. He'd call my grandma, who lived in the building next to his, and ask almost rhetorically, "You want to go down to the Big Boy?" Like there was another option. Big Boy was down at the end of the street, and Grandma loved the broccoli cheese soup, which they almost always had. We ate there virtually every night we were home at the same time. There were other restaurants, but that one got all of our business.
When my parents first divorced five days before my seventh birthday, my dad struggled with visitation. He had a new family and so it was awkward for us to spend quality time with him and his new wife. After she left him high and dry, though, it was easier for him to take my brother and me out to do things. One of my happiest memories of childhood was being taken to see The Apple Dumpling Gang at the movies. And following that, a trip to the Big Boy for dinner. Each booth had its own jukebox back then, and we would get to choose three songs to listen to, Every moment felt special because even though my dad had monthly visitation rights, he seldom saw us. That was a constant source of consternation for my mother, who had no compunction against roasting my dad in front of us. But I can't really say that I blame her. When you live only two and a half hours away, and you don't even go to see your kids once a month, what does that say about you as a father? This was on a summer trip, when we would stay with him and my grandparents for two weeks of glorious relief from our abusive home. So to say that Big Boy was a fond memory may not be worded strongly enough. Every time we ate at the Big Boy was a fond treat for us because it was a rare meal that we got to share with our father.
There were decent sandwiches and such at Big Boy back then, but I tired of the hamburger that was essentially a Big Mac before there was a Big Mac. So I started to explore the menu, and it wasn't long before I found "my jam," as the kids say. I loved the Mexican omelet. Now, the Mexican omelet was about as Mexican as I am, but it was a different time. It was eggs wrapped around chili and American cheese, topped with fresh diced onion and tomato. It was love at first bite (George Hamilton lives!). From that point on, I only ordered that omelet unless there was New England clam chowder, on the soup and salad bar, which was usually only Friday. When I got to college and was a short order egg cook in the dorm cafeteria, I spent weeks trying to perfect the omelet. I finally did it, and when Magi and I first met, I made it for her. So, yeah, the Big Boy has a lot of great memories.
One thing that I always associate with my dad was the hot fudge ice cream cake. He always ordered it. It sort of became my thing after a while, too, especially after he died, 10 years ago next week, on Father's Day. I have to tell you, to lose your dad on Father's Day can be pretty rough. The first several Father's Days after that, I didn't even want to celebrate, but that wouldn't have been fair to my daughter.
So where were we going to eat last night on our way home from Ann Arbor? There was only one choice. We don't have Big Boy restaurants near us anymore, but there are still several in Michigan. This time, though, I didn't eat the Mexican omelet. It isn't even on the menu anymore, but you can still make one using their custom omelet options. And I didn't order the hot fudge ice cream cake, either. Because for the first time in 10 years, Father's Day was about me and the wonderful kid who calls me "Dad," and not just about my own dad and the happier memories that I have of him. My dad was there with me, but this time he wasn't the star of the show.
Just after I graduated from high school, I lived with my dad in his one-bedroom apartment in Cadillac, Michigan. I slept on a futon in the living room, so you can probably figure out what the expectation was for my future living arrangements. The writing was kind of on the wall, wasn't it? He had left my hometown of Mesick after his fourth divorce, and moved 20 miles away to where he had gotten a new job. I stayed behind to finish my senior year of high school, living with my friend, Ken LaFountain. Ken's mom was a foster mother, and had a big farmhouse west of Mesick. I paid $40 a week to stay there, which I earned by working at Crystal Mountain ski resort on weekends. I wanted to be truly independent from my father, and I was. He still came to my sporting events, so I'd still get to see him a couple of times a week.
Right after I graduated, I got a job working at my dad's place of employment, Four Winns Boats in Cadillac. They're everywhere now, but this was fairly early in their history, because my employee number was 150. I worked the night shift while he worked the day shift that summer, But on weekends, it was the same every time. He'd call my grandma, who lived in the building next to his, and ask almost rhetorically, "You want to go down to the Big Boy?" Like there was another option. Big Boy was down at the end of the street, and Grandma loved the broccoli cheese soup, which they almost always had. We ate there virtually every night we were home at the same time. There were other restaurants, but that one got all of our business.
When my parents first divorced five days before my seventh birthday, my dad struggled with visitation. He had a new family and so it was awkward for us to spend quality time with him and his new wife. After she left him high and dry, though, it was easier for him to take my brother and me out to do things. One of my happiest memories of childhood was being taken to see The Apple Dumpling Gang at the movies. And following that, a trip to the Big Boy for dinner. Each booth had its own jukebox back then, and we would get to choose three songs to listen to, Every moment felt special because even though my dad had monthly visitation rights, he seldom saw us. That was a constant source of consternation for my mother, who had no compunction against roasting my dad in front of us. But I can't really say that I blame her. When you live only two and a half hours away, and you don't even go to see your kids once a month, what does that say about you as a father? This was on a summer trip, when we would stay with him and my grandparents for two weeks of glorious relief from our abusive home. So to say that Big Boy was a fond memory may not be worded strongly enough. Every time we ate at the Big Boy was a fond treat for us because it was a rare meal that we got to share with our father.
There were decent sandwiches and such at Big Boy back then, but I tired of the hamburger that was essentially a Big Mac before there was a Big Mac. So I started to explore the menu, and it wasn't long before I found "my jam," as the kids say. I loved the Mexican omelet. Now, the Mexican omelet was about as Mexican as I am, but it was a different time. It was eggs wrapped around chili and American cheese, topped with fresh diced onion and tomato. It was love at first bite (George Hamilton lives!). From that point on, I only ordered that omelet unless there was New England clam chowder, on the soup and salad bar, which was usually only Friday. When I got to college and was a short order egg cook in the dorm cafeteria, I spent weeks trying to perfect the omelet. I finally did it, and when Magi and I first met, I made it for her. So, yeah, the Big Boy has a lot of great memories.
One thing that I always associate with my dad was the hot fudge ice cream cake. He always ordered it. It sort of became my thing after a while, too, especially after he died, 10 years ago next week, on Father's Day. I have to tell you, to lose your dad on Father's Day can be pretty rough. The first several Father's Days after that, I didn't even want to celebrate, but that wouldn't have been fair to my daughter.
So where were we going to eat last night on our way home from Ann Arbor? There was only one choice. We don't have Big Boy restaurants near us anymore, but there are still several in Michigan. This time, though, I didn't eat the Mexican omelet. It isn't even on the menu anymore, but you can still make one using their custom omelet options. And I didn't order the hot fudge ice cream cake, either. Because for the first time in 10 years, Father's Day was about me and the wonderful kid who calls me "Dad," and not just about my own dad and the happier memories that I have of him. My dad was there with me, but this time he wasn't the star of the show.
Sunday, May 5, 2019
Twenty-three
Four months pass...
I'm now 23 school days from the end of my career. What's that, you say? I wasn't going to retire until the end of the calendar year? No, that's correct. I will officially retire on December 31. My doctor has said that I should take a medical leave. I went in to see him two weeks ago for my viral bronchitis, which is stubbornly hanging on. And I asked him about my overall health. I haven't been sick this much in my entire career, except for the time I had a partially collapsed lung. That was slightly worse. Anyway, he looked at my chart, checked off each line, and said, "Everything I treat you for is stress-related. What do you do again?" I laughed and said, "I teach middle school." Then he laughed and said, "Well, I guess that explains it. Can you take any time off?" Then it was my turn again and I said, "Not really. Not with the new standardized test coming. I have enough sick days coming to take off almost the whole next semester though, before I retire. Can I justify that?" "Oh sure," he said. "I can sign that piece of paper right now. Just bring it to me. Retirement can solve a lot of these problems. I've seen it happen."
Now, the funny thing is that after talking to him, I was going to gut it out for a month in August through mid-September so I wouldn't miss any time unpaid. But then, this week, someone took an out-of-context Facebook post of mine and gave it to my principal. I had written a comic book story and a presentation while the students were testing. What I didn't post was that it was written IN MY HEAD. I didn't sit down at my desk and use a keyboard. I didn't even hand write it. I doodled a couple of page layouts and simply played the rest of it out in my head while I walked the room, bored out of my mind. I was told later that my alleged "friend" (it was a friends-only post) was concerned that if someone from the state had read it that we could be cited. I thought, well, the only way that was going to happen was if one of my "friends" had turned it in. And it seemed to me that if one of my "friends" was that concerned about it, they could have simply pointed it out to me so I could edit it for clarity or even delete it. Instead, they went to my boss, who in turn wrote me a sternly-worded email. I decided right then and there that when I walk out on June 6, I will never set foot in that building again. It could have been an administrator or a teacher from another school. I don't care. I unfriended almost every single person on my list who works for the school system. That was just beyond the pale.
Negativity over. There won't be any more. No, seriously.
I have 23 days left. I'm not going out quietly. I'm going to make the most of them. Last semester I ran a Kickstarter with my students. It was for Poe and the Mysteriads, a comic book about a retired junior partner of a masked vigilante who has to come out of retirement at age 22 to solve the murder of her former mentor. We just needed money for printing and to reimburse me for the colorist I paid. The students helped me set the goal, price out the reward levels, create Poe merchandise, and set up the entire thing. Then we watched as, over the next 30 days, the campaign played out, using Kickstarter's incredible dashboard of mathematical information to analyze and predict where it would end up. Their reward for "helping" me do work that I had actually done ahead of time was that every student would receive a free copy of Poe #1, which are at the printer right now. Oh, I forgot. I got in trouble for that too. "Donations must be approved in advance by the school board." Good grief. I guess I lied about no more negativity. But in fairness, I had forgotten that stupidity until just now. Please forgive me.
For the last five weeks, we are going to create a new Solution Squad Kickstarter. It will be for Solution Squad individual issues to be launched later this summer when the other Kickstarter has been fulfilled. Jordan Searose (the artist formerly known as Rose McClain) is doing a brand-new cover for a new printing of Solution Squad #1. It will be their first Solution Squad cover, so I'm looking forward to seeing that. There will also be a printing of Solution Squad #2, The Trouble with Trains (with cover by Eisner-winning artist Janet K. Lee. Serena Guerra is just putting the last two pages together of a whole new story called "The Case of the Eight-Inch Action Figures," which does not appear in the graphic novel, and will be combined with her previous story, The Candy Crimes of the Confectioneer, to make a 20-page comic that we'll number Solution Squad #3. I'll reprint the illustrated prose story, "The Last Boy," as Solution Squad #4. Hey, comic book story or not, it's my book, and I'll do whatever I want. And finally, Solution Squad: Origins. I'm not going to number that one, because it doesn't need to be read in any particular sequence. You can buy it as a companion piece to any of the other books.
Each of the comic books will be available to be pledge rewards individually, or in sets. There will also be the opportunity once again to purchase a comic book for a student. For the sake of my sanity, they will be made available for a student who attends a Title I school in northern Indiana. Somewhere nearby. Somewhere I don't have to have them shipped. So, like, within driving distance, let's say. I'm sure I can find one.
The real fun for this Kickstarter will be the add-ons. First, each comic book can have added to it, a digital version with a 150-device site license. This means the comic can be projected onto a smartboard AND pushed to student devices via software like Canvas for individual use. There will also be lesson plans to go with each comic. Those who purchased this level in the original Kickstarter will NOT have to pay for this feature. The plans are my first priority to finish when school lets out and they'll be in people's hands before I ever launch this one. It's been too long already, I know. This reward level will be for those who are new to the Squad. Naturally, the hardcover book will still be available as an add-on, so anyone who missed it the first time around can get a copy of it.
I'm going to turn my students loose in creating whatever kind of merchandise they want to make. They'll have to price it out, take into account the fees that Kickstarter and Backerkit will take, and still set the prices to make a profit. Shipping will be an issue for them as well. It will be interesting to see their reactions when they figure out why things are so expensive!
My plans for the summer and the fall are to re-tool and to gear up for post-retirement years. I'm really going to try to avoid going back into the classroom as much as possible once my official retirement starts in January. I don't really want to substitute teach. I still want to go to schools and talk to kids about making comics, but I really don't feel the need to be cursed out and threatened by kids anymore. One of my favorite side hustles from 25 years ago was selling action figures and comic books. So, I have enough stuff to get that started for now. I also plan to teach English to kids in China via VIPKids. I am going to do lesson plans for Teachers Pay Teachers, tutoring, and whatever else I can think of. And most of all, I'm going to draw and make more comics. I'm going to do the things that have made me happiest for the past seven years. The summer and fall are going to give me time to de-stress and figure out just how, what, and when I'm going to do everything.
It's an exciting time. I just have to make it 23 more days.
I'm now 23 school days from the end of my career. What's that, you say? I wasn't going to retire until the end of the calendar year? No, that's correct. I will officially retire on December 31. My doctor has said that I should take a medical leave. I went in to see him two weeks ago for my viral bronchitis, which is stubbornly hanging on. And I asked him about my overall health. I haven't been sick this much in my entire career, except for the time I had a partially collapsed lung. That was slightly worse. Anyway, he looked at my chart, checked off each line, and said, "Everything I treat you for is stress-related. What do you do again?" I laughed and said, "I teach middle school." Then he laughed and said, "Well, I guess that explains it. Can you take any time off?" Then it was my turn again and I said, "Not really. Not with the new standardized test coming. I have enough sick days coming to take off almost the whole next semester though, before I retire. Can I justify that?" "Oh sure," he said. "I can sign that piece of paper right now. Just bring it to me. Retirement can solve a lot of these problems. I've seen it happen."
Now, the funny thing is that after talking to him, I was going to gut it out for a month in August through mid-September so I wouldn't miss any time unpaid. But then, this week, someone took an out-of-context Facebook post of mine and gave it to my principal. I had written a comic book story and a presentation while the students were testing. What I didn't post was that it was written IN MY HEAD. I didn't sit down at my desk and use a keyboard. I didn't even hand write it. I doodled a couple of page layouts and simply played the rest of it out in my head while I walked the room, bored out of my mind. I was told later that my alleged "friend" (it was a friends-only post) was concerned that if someone from the state had read it that we could be cited. I thought, well, the only way that was going to happen was if one of my "friends" had turned it in. And it seemed to me that if one of my "friends" was that concerned about it, they could have simply pointed it out to me so I could edit it for clarity or even delete it. Instead, they went to my boss, who in turn wrote me a sternly-worded email. I decided right then and there that when I walk out on June 6, I will never set foot in that building again. It could have been an administrator or a teacher from another school. I don't care. I unfriended almost every single person on my list who works for the school system. That was just beyond the pale.
Negativity over. There won't be any more. No, seriously.
I have 23 days left. I'm not going out quietly. I'm going to make the most of them. Last semester I ran a Kickstarter with my students. It was for Poe and the Mysteriads, a comic book about a retired junior partner of a masked vigilante who has to come out of retirement at age 22 to solve the murder of her former mentor. We just needed money for printing and to reimburse me for the colorist I paid. The students helped me set the goal, price out the reward levels, create Poe merchandise, and set up the entire thing. Then we watched as, over the next 30 days, the campaign played out, using Kickstarter's incredible dashboard of mathematical information to analyze and predict where it would end up. Their reward for "helping" me do work that I had actually done ahead of time was that every student would receive a free copy of Poe #1, which are at the printer right now. Oh, I forgot. I got in trouble for that too. "Donations must be approved in advance by the school board." Good grief. I guess I lied about no more negativity. But in fairness, I had forgotten that stupidity until just now. Please forgive me.
For the last five weeks, we are going to create a new Solution Squad Kickstarter. It will be for Solution Squad individual issues to be launched later this summer when the other Kickstarter has been fulfilled. Jordan Searose (the artist formerly known as Rose McClain) is doing a brand-new cover for a new printing of Solution Squad #1. It will be their first Solution Squad cover, so I'm looking forward to seeing that. There will also be a printing of Solution Squad #2, The Trouble with Trains (with cover by Eisner-winning artist Janet K. Lee. Serena Guerra is just putting the last two pages together of a whole new story called "The Case of the Eight-Inch Action Figures," which does not appear in the graphic novel, and will be combined with her previous story, The Candy Crimes of the Confectioneer, to make a 20-page comic that we'll number Solution Squad #3. I'll reprint the illustrated prose story, "The Last Boy," as Solution Squad #4. Hey, comic book story or not, it's my book, and I'll do whatever I want. And finally, Solution Squad: Origins. I'm not going to number that one, because it doesn't need to be read in any particular sequence. You can buy it as a companion piece to any of the other books.
Each of the comic books will be available to be pledge rewards individually, or in sets. There will also be the opportunity once again to purchase a comic book for a student. For the sake of my sanity, they will be made available for a student who attends a Title I school in northern Indiana. Somewhere nearby. Somewhere I don't have to have them shipped. So, like, within driving distance, let's say. I'm sure I can find one.
The real fun for this Kickstarter will be the add-ons. First, each comic book can have added to it, a digital version with a 150-device site license. This means the comic can be projected onto a smartboard AND pushed to student devices via software like Canvas for individual use. There will also be lesson plans to go with each comic. Those who purchased this level in the original Kickstarter will NOT have to pay for this feature. The plans are my first priority to finish when school lets out and they'll be in people's hands before I ever launch this one. It's been too long already, I know. This reward level will be for those who are new to the Squad. Naturally, the hardcover book will still be available as an add-on, so anyone who missed it the first time around can get a copy of it.
I'm going to turn my students loose in creating whatever kind of merchandise they want to make. They'll have to price it out, take into account the fees that Kickstarter and Backerkit will take, and still set the prices to make a profit. Shipping will be an issue for them as well. It will be interesting to see their reactions when they figure out why things are so expensive!
My plans for the summer and the fall are to re-tool and to gear up for post-retirement years. I'm really going to try to avoid going back into the classroom as much as possible once my official retirement starts in January. I don't really want to substitute teach. I still want to go to schools and talk to kids about making comics, but I really don't feel the need to be cursed out and threatened by kids anymore. One of my favorite side hustles from 25 years ago was selling action figures and comic books. So, I have enough stuff to get that started for now. I also plan to teach English to kids in China via VIPKids. I am going to do lesson plans for Teachers Pay Teachers, tutoring, and whatever else I can think of. And most of all, I'm going to draw and make more comics. I'm going to do the things that have made me happiest for the past seven years. The summer and fall are going to give me time to de-stress and figure out just how, what, and when I'm going to do everything.
It's an exciting time. I just have to make it 23 more days.
Saturday, January 5, 2019
It's The Pensioneer!
How does a teacher manage to retire at the tender age of 55? Well, first you have to work for 33 years or so in the same job in the same state at a rate of pay not commensurate with your education. Second, you have to pay 3% of your gross salary into a pension fund for the same amount of time. That pension fund is managed by the state. It grows and shrinks with the guesswork of the fund managers who get paid to make it grow as much as possible. And third, you have to live long enough to collect it.
When I made the transition from teaching in Gary to Elkhart Indiana, I met a science teacher who was battling cancer just as she was approaching retirement age. She missed a huge number of days and could have actually retired early, but she gutted it out despite her illness and stuck with it just long enough to receive her full pension. Then she died two months after she retired. I will never forget the lesson that she taught me. You take it when you can get it and you don't look back. No one is promised tomorrow.
Here's how it works: In Indiana, to receive your full pension, your years of Indiana service and your age have to add up to 85, so long as you have reached the minimum age of 55. Since I started in Indiana (after two years in Michigan) at age 24, I am hitting the sweet spot just about the moment I turn 55. So, for those of you keeping score at home, here you go: Take your years of service plus your age, subtract it from 85, and divide by 2. That will tell you how much longer you have to go before you are eligible for full retirement. You know, unless State Representative Wes Culver finally gets his way and increases it to the rule of 95, like he tried to do in 2016. There's nothing to motivate teachers like extending their careers by a mandatory five extra years!
I did the legwork with the Teacher Retirement Fund, and I will retire with about 40% of my salary intact, which means I still have to work for the other 60%. But how I look at it is, if I don't retire, I'm only working for 60% of my salary, because I'd be getting 40% of it if I just sat on the couch at home. So, it's time for me to find something else to do.
And I have some things in mind...
When I made the transition from teaching in Gary to Elkhart Indiana, I met a science teacher who was battling cancer just as she was approaching retirement age. She missed a huge number of days and could have actually retired early, but she gutted it out despite her illness and stuck with it just long enough to receive her full pension. Then she died two months after she retired. I will never forget the lesson that she taught me. You take it when you can get it and you don't look back. No one is promised tomorrow.
Here's how it works: In Indiana, to receive your full pension, your years of Indiana service and your age have to add up to 85, so long as you have reached the minimum age of 55. Since I started in Indiana (after two years in Michigan) at age 24, I am hitting the sweet spot just about the moment I turn 55. So, for those of you keeping score at home, here you go: Take your years of service plus your age, subtract it from 85, and divide by 2. That will tell you how much longer you have to go before you are eligible for full retirement. You know, unless State Representative Wes Culver finally gets his way and increases it to the rule of 95, like he tried to do in 2016. There's nothing to motivate teachers like extending their careers by a mandatory five extra years!
I did the legwork with the Teacher Retirement Fund, and I will retire with about 40% of my salary intact, which means I still have to work for the other 60%. But how I look at it is, if I don't retire, I'm only working for 60% of my salary, because I'd be getting 40% of it if I just sat on the couch at home. So, it's time for me to find something else to do.
And I have some things in mind...
Endings and Beginnings
So, here I am at the end of my 32-year teaching career. It seems odd to type that. No, it seems bizarre to type that. At the end of this calendar year, I will be retired. Can I afford to be retired? Oh, heck no. I'll have to work; more on that in a minute. But my span as a full-time teacher will have come to an end, with all of the planning and data and testing behind me. I still plan to hang around. I'll be in classrooms substituting. But I won't have the day-to-day responsibilities that make the job work instead of fun.
I offer on this blog reflections on my career. Things that have come and gone, and things that have come back again; things that worked, things that didn't, and things that never will. One of the myriad impressions that I wish to change is the idea that older, more experienced teachers are all burned out; not all of us are. Some of us are still working all the time to improve and adapt to changing times. And from long experience, we have knowledge that just might be valuable to younger people just entering the profession. Don't worry, kids, we already know you think you know everything. We knew everything once too! And the more experience we got, the less we knew everything.
As I make the transition into professional development both as a former educator and a comic book creator, I also offer reflections on my life in general. I have led an interesting life, and a colorful one. I will include passages that may be troubling for some to read. I suffered from child abuse, and one of the things that helped me survive was comic books. I will write a lot about them, and what they have meant to me personally.
Come follow along as I stroll down Memory Lane on the path to Future Street!
I offer on this blog reflections on my career. Things that have come and gone, and things that have come back again; things that worked, things that didn't, and things that never will. One of the myriad impressions that I wish to change is the idea that older, more experienced teachers are all burned out; not all of us are. Some of us are still working all the time to improve and adapt to changing times. And from long experience, we have knowledge that just might be valuable to younger people just entering the profession. Don't worry, kids, we already know you think you know everything. We knew everything once too! And the more experience we got, the less we knew everything.
As I make the transition into professional development both as a former educator and a comic book creator, I also offer reflections on my life in general. I have led an interesting life, and a colorful one. I will include passages that may be troubling for some to read. I suffered from child abuse, and one of the things that helped me survive was comic books. I will write a lot about them, and what they have meant to me personally.
Come follow along as I stroll down Memory Lane on the path to Future Street!
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