Writer
I hope your March is coming to a close nice and easy. We’re going to be taking a quasi-staycation for Spring Break. We are not doing the long, long road trip to Austin, TX like we did last year. I don’t have the energy. But anyway!
The most recent posts published on Fiction at Five are these:
As a brief update, I’ll list the new pieces that are live, in the world.
I have a poem published in The Bluebird Word called Strategies for Defeat.
And here are the most recent posts to Fiction at Five:
Short Story Club Titles & Why You Should Never Headbang in Heels
Three Stories & Winter Perseveres
Thanks for reading.
“Two Stories,” in motherhood minutes.
The school district and the teachers’ union have come to a tentative agreement, and so it looks like we will be back in school some time next week.
I am grieving. The loss of family, any normalcy, predictability, kids’ progress, their friendships. The rest of this school year. I’m calling this my last 50 words as I’m deeming today, with the tentative agreement, as the last day of the strike. Technically, I’m wrong. But I’m wrong a lot.
Seven months ago my nephew died. He was a public school teacher. I could almost see him out on the picket line these past few weeks, an outspoken, confident, passionate young man. Shortly before his death, he was organizing a coat drive for kids in need.
Teachers shape our communities.
I attended the Public School Funding Discussion last night. The strike is over as of a tentative agreement made overnight, but shit we have troubles going forward. I have many more than 50 words, but this is what I’m adding for yesterday’s 17th day since the strike was called.
Days spin out and everyone is sick.
The strike is ending and we’re still under water. The state is still trying to get out from under the cuts to education made years ago.
What can I do. Vote Republicans out. We’re one of only two states with a split legislature.
I’m hearing the district walked out on negotiations.
I think about three years from now.
I hear about losing ground after typical summer breaks.
I hear “kids are resilient,” but most kids just learn how to acclimate to their problems until later in life when shit blows up. Mental health support will be urgent when we get back.
How many times have you cried today?
The district says there’s a newer, wider gap and that they again have offered their last, best offer. There is a newer, wider gap between my mind and where it used to be.
Why is it hard to fund public education? And live on one full-time job?
Another week disintegrates.
My god.
Days ago, we heard “promising news” regarding the strike.
Now, I hear “budget cuts,” and I know that will mean no more music.
We went to Iowa. We’re back. The house remains. The strike continues.
The past two years are fuzzy, like a misremembered dream.
We need to go back.
