So. I know I’ve missed TWO posts, but I had an “I want to claw my eyes out” day, followed by an “I can’t stop sneezing and my nose is LITERALLY dripping” day, followed by a WHY IS MY ENTIRE HEAD A BOWLING BALL??? day, which is when I started drugging myself. Allergy medicine at night, a decongestant plus other helpful things during the day…also there was nasal spray. And while I certainly wasn’t incapable of writing, I really wasn’t at my best–hence the two missed posts.
Anyway! Today I took my kiddos to a water park up in Davis County and we met cousins (and one of my sisters-in-law); it was modestly sized but fun, and all of them had a blast. I did spend literally hours in the sun, however, and I managed to burn a spot on one of my legs AGAIN (I appear to have problems applying sunscreen evenly).
Sigh.
BUT–I finished listening to Mr. Terupt Falls Again last night, and not only did I very much enjoy it, but I can also pass it along to my eager-beaver almost-11-year-old, who practically salivated over it when she saw it sitting by my keyboard this morning. As far as plot goes, we have more individual glimpses into the lives of our narrators, serving as an excellent reminder that every kid, every student, every PERSON we meet has far more going on in his or her life than we generally pause to think about. We also learn more of Mr. Terupt’s story, ending the novel in a MOST satisfying way. Here are my two thoughts in a nutshell:
1. This is straight-up teacher porn. Every good teacher who has ever stood in front of a classroom dreams of teaching and reaching his/her students in the best possible ways, with lessons and projects that ALWAYS engage the class (AND make a lasting impression!). Rob Buyea taught for years, and I imagine there’s a Jane Eyrequality to his books–Jane Eyre being, in my not-terrifically-humble opinion, the daydream of how Charlotte Bronte would have liked her life to be. (I wrote a paper in college to that effect, if you’re interested; it’s a scintillating read.) Buyea’s school stories are inspiring–but too consistently inspiring to be truly realistic.
2. I don’t care. I love stories about growth and healing and ALL THE FEELS, and with all of the madness surrounding whatever back to school looks like for each of us right now, reading about kids learning and growing and sticking together and figuring out life is a perfect example of one of my mental happy places.
So. I totally recommend it, unless you’re Scrooge-y about that sort of thing. (And honestly, it’s okay if you are. We all have certain things that we’re Scrooge-y about.) Read the first one, read this one, and in a few weeks, I’ll probably tell you to read the third and fourth ones–I just haven’t gotten there yet!