The Call of the Wild, Chapter 1

Yes, this is the same page as was tweeted--scroll down for another!

In the spirit of solidarity, just as I've assigned by eleventh graders to read (or re-read) and annotate Jack London's The Call of the Wild, I, too, have committed to doing the same. When I mentioned in class that I would tweet out my own annotations from the novella (doing what it was I was asking of them), one bright star said, "Does that mean we don't have to it ourselves?" Not quite. The hope is that by sharing what I saw it might spurn the student lacking the desire to be motivated to make their way through the book, too. And maybe even enjoy it in the process!

The edition I am using (and writing in) a Dover Thrift Classic which was purchased when another class of mine (many years ago) participated in The Big Read working with the same title. Most of my students are using old, hard cover copies from the mid-1980's and using post-it notes to make similar observations regarding writer's craft including syntax, diction, tone and figurative language, among others. I've read The Call of the Wild, and my annotations are by no means complete...

Accepting The Call For the First Time (Again)

The Call of the Wild begins with an unattributed epigraph:
the first stanza of "Atavism," a 1902 poem by John Myers O'Hara.

Two weeks ago, in anticipation of our impending seven-day break from classes, I asked my Advanced Placement students if any of them had a favorite book that they enjoyed re-reading for fun. The few that did, mentioned the titles that one might expect from normal eleventh graders: titles from any number of popular young adult franchises such as Harry Potter, Percy Jackson and the like. It was then that I hinted at the possibility of my asking them to read (or in some case re-read) a short novel that I enjoyed revisiting during break that they too may have become familiar with from middle school, The Call of the Wild by Jack London.

Though I teach high school English, and the reality that The Call of the Wild is firmly ensconced as a middle school title in our (like most) school districts, it became apparent a few years ago that, for whatever reason, London's classic was no longer being taught. As a result, most students had no awareness of Jack London beyond, maybe, having been assigned (and consequently dreading the experience of) reading "To Build a Fire".

As was expected, many students balked at the idea of being assigned a book to read during this time (and more than one colleague suggested to me "it is break after all"), I reminded my charges that had I any faith that they might read anything during our time apart, I might feel differently. An ulterior motive I had for assigning this particular book was the hope that some had indeed read it in middle school, and could therefor come to the realization upon re-reading it that books returned to at different points in one's experience can reveal new layers of understanding that their younger selves may have missed. (I knew some had been assigned it in the past by virtue of their names having been scrawled in the covers by their younger selves), of those few who had, none remembered it.

The task required of students' while reading was non-threatening as it mirrored one they had recently completed: as each read, she or he would annotate using either post-it notes (in the school's book) or in-text notations identifying and explaining specific literary strategies employed by London in telling Buck's story. The course was, after all, Language and Composition so our shared emphasis would be on writer's craft. For my part, I would also be re-reading the text, albeit for the upteenth time, and share select pages of annotation with the via my Twitter feed and our class blog throughout the course of our break. (Full disclosure: I could not resist the urge to begin (again) so actually began reading and annotating prior to the start of break.)

As some of my students reluctantly accept "the call" for the first time, and others willingly embrace Buck's tale for a second, I look forward to sharing together with them after break our thoughts on the journey (and process)...

Scoutin' Routes: 2016 Winter Warrior Half

As of this weekend, I'm about three weeks out from my next road race, the 2016 Winter Warrior Half Marathon. After some confusion (created by your's truly) I finally have a handle on the course's location (reading plain written directions is not a strong suit), which had changed since last year's race (one that though I had not participated in, was familiar of the course). Though I had an idea where the Rochester Tech Park is, not having been there since it was part of Kodak wa-a-a-ay back in the early 1990s, a drive out was in order.

With the new course certification sketch map in hand, as well as a self-generated USATF Map It! route, I set out last weekend with the intent of scouting the route for the January 7 run. The official sketch (to the right above) is much more folk art than practical actual guide as the scale is (it says as much in the liner notes) very out of whack. Occasionally, landmarks are not exactly where they depicted to be on the map either, which makes solely using one to scout the course very difficult. Just as when I run an unfamiliar around the city, the Google map allows consideration of the course in a more realistic manner.

The half-marathon is, in this case, literally four 5ks run successively. While loop courses are great for spectators (family and friends who brave the elements for anywhere from 90-120 minutes get to cheer you on four times), the redundancy of the view can offer other challenges to those participating. As it is, the entire course, set in a suburban industrial office park, is fairly light on interesting scenery. Other than the occasional Canadian goose, there is also little wildlife activity to note, suggesting that much of the run will be in the participant's head. Of course, because the race starts at dusk and the sun will have set by the time even the best athletes finish, the value of viewing distractions is slight.

The slight incline to the water tower at about the 2/3 mile mark (from the start in loop 1) is the only real "hill" to speak of. The roads are well maintained and on the Sunday morning I went to check out the course, I was nearly the only person on them. This race takes place in the evening, so I am unsure as to what visibility the lighting permits--it would appear another trip (this time at night) is in order before race day.

The course goes out onto a main road only briefly before quickly returning to the safe confines of the park.

If there was ever any doubt in the race organizer providing truth in advertising (not that there ever has been) this would appear to be the legitimate "flat and fast" course promoted. No counting chickens before they've hatched though. The last time I thought I'd be running one of those up at Hamlin Beach, there was 100% humidity the day of the race and I could barely hold on to finish after a brief (and confidence-crushing) walk break. But that was in July and this will take place in January, so there remains the real possibility of snow and wintry winds.

But that would be why the race is called The Winter Warrior, right?

700 Miles(tone) and More

When comic books hit issue 700 of a single continuous run, it is a tremendous accomplishment. It is an especially  rare occurrence nowadays for industry deeply enamored of the potential financial windfall of frequent #1's; as a result, every title seems to hit the reset almost annually.

Seven-hundred sounds like a lot. This morning when I scrawled "709" in my hard copy training journal as the to-date cumulative mileage since March, it seems like I've come a long way. In addition to comfortably completing a 12.5 mile training run, the 700 miles(tone) is a personal accomplishment. To 35 year-old me, 700 miles might have represented a rare year marred by injury. To 46 year-old me, it is thrilling, especially with a few more weeks to go in the calendar year.

This morning's surprisingly frosty (31°F, but felt like 26°F at 7 a.m.) and foggy early morning run also reminded me why I once preferred cold weather running--something I've avoided for most of the past 4 years. Though I have continued to register and train for the occasional road race, most have been limited to early summer or late fall events where I could train outside of my teaching/coaching schedule and in warm(er) temps. This current calendar year, I began much earlier (albeit on treadmill) than in recent history (February) and am registered to run a half marathon the first weekend of January 2016. While we have yet to have had measurable snowfall in Western New York just yet, it is a very real possibility for January 9, and I am almost assured that the temps will not be much higher than a balmy 40°F.

Now that I've reached the unanticipated 700 mile mark, it's time to continue moving forward toward other benchmarks. Like comic books, I too will hit the numbering reset button in January and begin with a brand new #1. Ultimately, the primary goal, one for which I am most thankful, is simply getting up and out every once and a while, regardless of how fast or slow or far I go.