Carie Juettner

Confessions of a Former Teacher: I am Insidious

Seventh graders are impressionable little things. That’s why you have to be careful how you handle them.

2010 was the year I got married. It was the year of WikiLeaks and royal engagements and the Chilean miners’ miraculous survival. It was the year Lost finally ended.

It was also the year the PG-13 horror movie Insidious hit the big screen.

I taught a really good group of students during the 2010-2011 school year. That was back when my district still had blocked classes for Language Arts, which meant I saw all of my kids for ninety minutes every day. There were only sixty of them that year, divided into ideal class sizes of twenty each, so I was able to really get to know them. They were good kids and a lot of fun.

My after-lunch class had a lot of personality. They were a very talkative, very friendly bunch, and many of them possessed that rare ability to get their work done while socializing. You can only fight that superpower for so long—eventually you have to admit that yes, they are really working while talking, make peace with it, and save your “I’m serious” speeches for test days and principal visits.

Socks — My after-lunch class’s feet on crazy sock day. Their personalities were just as unique.

During the second semester, the sidebar conversations meandered more and more to the subject of this new horror movie that just came out—Insidious. The talk was all about who’d seen it and who hadn’t and who had to cover his eyes and how scary it was. One popular boy, who we’ll call Patrick, just went on and on about it. The movie terrified him, but he kept going back to see it again. Patrick had watched the thing at least three times when he and his friend “Mike” started trying to talk me into seeing it. Patrick had a cute/exasperating inability to form a complete sentence when he was excited, so his persuasive techniques resulted in arguments like, “Ms. Juettner, seriously, I mean, oh my God, it’s just so, so, AAAAA!, and in this one part, oh man, oh man, Ms. Juettner, you’ve GOT to see it!”

Eventually I decided I’d better see it, so I made my husband go with me.

Now, before you start rolling your eyes and saying Insidious wasn’t scary, you need to realize something. These were thirteen-year-olds, and a lot of them were very sheltered thirteen-year-olds. I’m sure some of my students had been watching zombie movies with their older siblings since they were in the third grade, but some of these kids parents’ took the PG-13 rule seriously. The kids in my after-lunch class that year were a young group and for many of them, Insidious was the first horror movie they’d ever seen. Coming from that perspective, I’m sure it was truly horrifying.

I wasn’t horrified by Insidious. (Then again, I saw Poltergeist when I was much younger than they were, and it’s a much more scarring experience.) But I was entertained by it, and it did make me jump a few times.

One of the creepy parts of Insidious has to do with this old woman who stalks one of the characters in photographs. In every photo taken of him, ever since he was a little boy, the woman in black is visible, and in each picture she is getting closer and closer to him. Patrick and Mike were especially freaked out by this part of the movie. Patrick’s incoherent rants included a lot of, “Oh, and the old woman, oh my God oh my God, she… AAAAA!”

When you’ve had a good year, when you’ve taught kids who you genuinely care about, not just as students but as people, when you’ve developed real bonds with them, the last days of school can be bittersweet. Yes, it’s a time of excitement and looking forward to summer vacation, but it’s also a time of sadness and loss. A time of growing up and letting go. And, if you’re pretty sure their parents aren’t the litigious types, a time to have a little fun with them.

During the last week of the 2010-2011 school year, my kids were working in groups creating infomercials for the random and ridiculous products they were selling. (A few weeks earlier, I’d asked my classes to write down three objects they would never want to own and said, “Be creative.” I did not tell them why. Then I collected the slips of paper and put them in a bucket. Now the kids had been forced to draw a random paper out of the bucket and attempt to sell the items listed using the persuasive techniques we’d been studying. My students were advertising everything from a purse made out of earwax to a dead body. By the time all was said and done, there was very little educational value in the project, but the iMovies they created were hilarious.) While they worked on their commercials, I took photos of all of them for a class iMovie we were making as an end-of-the-year souvenir. Since some of the kids were shy about having their picture taken, I let them pose with a friend or two. Naturally, Patrick and Mike paired up.

Now comes the confession part.

I just couldn’t help myself. I mean, it was too easy, too perfect.

The kids all wanted to see each other’s pictures and the pictures from the other classes, so I told them I’d show them all the next day on the overhead projector IF they got all of their work done. That sent them scurrying back to their group projects. These kids were self-sufficient. They were on task. They really didn’t need me.

So… I spent about an hour and forty-five minutes of my contract time downloading pictures, creating a Sumo Paint account, and learning how to Photoshop an image. Two hours later, my masterpiece was complete.

The next day, the little darlings in my after-lunch class got all of their work done early, so, as promised, I started showing them the pictures. They oohed, they ahhed, they giggled, they teased each other about the faces they’d made. So innocent.

Then I got to Patrick and Mike’s photo and, before showing it, I paused. I looked at them.

“Patrick,” I said, “you and Mike’s picture came out a little… weird.” I raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” Patrick asked.

“What happened to it?” Mike asked.

“I’m hoping YOU can tell ME,” I said and stared at them pointedly, shaking my head and rolling my eyes. I went to click the button to show the picture but paused one more time, my hand poised over the mouse. “I really don’t know how you guys did it,” I said, “but you better not have used my computer without my permission.” One more pause. One more glare. The class was quiet. I clicked the button.

And there, on the screen was Patrick and Mike’s photo, with the old woman from Insidious peering out right between them.

There was one second of silence before an enormous GASP erupted from Patrick, who stood up and launched into the most incoherent of all of his ramblings. Soon though, his babbling died down into a single continuous stream of “No no no no no no no no no no no no no no.”

Mike’s reaction was more subdued. He smiled a little. Then he frowned a little. Then he said quietly, “You did that.” And when I didn’t answer, he squeaked, “Did you do that?”

I didn’t make them suffer long. The rest of the class was going crazy and I didn’t want the noise to bring any concerned principals into the room. I wasn’t itching to explain the image on my screen. The prank had worked beautifully though. In my opinion, those were hours well spent.

Seventh graders are impressionable little things. That’s why you have to be careful how you handle them. I guess Patrick and Mike would be in tenth grade now. Maybe I should look them up, see how they’re doing. I’m 70% sure I didn’t do any permanent damage to them. Regardless, I have no regrets.

[To read more stories from my teaching career, check out my Teaching Stories page.]

Mystery Solved! What’s Inside the Art Machine

A few months ago, I discovered a cool cigarette-machine-turned-art-machine at my local Whole Foods store and promptly broke it. (It was an accident, I promise.) Since it didn’t work, I didn’t get to find out what sorts of treasures awaited inside.

This week, I went back and was delighted to find the sad little “out of order” sign gone. I decided to try my luck again, and this time it worked! (Which is a relief because I didn’t want to to tell the nice guys at Whole Foods that I broke their machine again.)

Which treasures did I choose?

Why, slug soap and monsters, naturally.

Monsters = no brainer. I like monsters. I also think slugs are pretty cool when I am not stepping on them or trying to keep my dog from eating them. The slug on this package reminds me of the large plastic slug that I found and made into a necklace for my good friend Emily. (Yes, of course she liked it. Why do you ask?) I couldn’t resist seeing it in soap form.

I was so excited to find out what was inside these cigarette-pack-shaped boxes that I opened them up in my car. The advertising did not lie. I got a monster and slug soap.

The monster is a little weird. Ok, they’re both weird. But the monster is more weird because I’m not sure what to do with it. At first I thought it was a magnet, which would have been cool, but no. It’s just a tiny painting of a vampire (with a side of Dracula trivia). I think this one is destined to become a stocking stuffer. (Get ready, friends and family! Any one of you could be the lucky recipient!)

The slug soap is, in my opinion, much cooler and also quite practical. I look forward to washing my hands with this little guy and watching him melt away like he’s been salted. (Don’t do that to real slugs! It’s mean!)

So, mystery solved. What’s inside the weird art machine? Weird art. Its existence makes me happy.

Autism Awareness And A Book Review: Anything But Typical

I’ve been so caught up in April being National Poetry Month that I almost missed the fact that it’s also National Autism Awareness Month. Strangely enough, I actually read two books this month told from the perspective of a character with Asperger’s syndrome– The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion, which is a romantic comedy for adults, and The London Eye Mystery by Siobhan Dowd, which is a young adult novel. I really enjoyed them. The Rosie Project is an extremely entertaining novel with dozens of laugh-out-loud moments, and The London Eye Mystery has compelling characters, realistic drama, and (most surprising to me) is also a very good mystery. I recommend them both.

While it is somewhat ironic that I happened to pick up these two titles during the month of April, it is no coincidence that I chose to read books about characters facing the challenges of Asperger’s. I have been drawn to stories that tackle this subject for years now, ever since I began meeting people on the autism spectrum in my classroom.

During my last eight years of teaching seventh grade English, I taught a dozen or so students who had been diagnosed with autism or Asperger’s, or who were undiagnosed but showed symptoms of the syndrome. I also interacted with several more students who were not in my classroom but who attended my school. The middle school where I taught was excellent at providing the support these students needed while also making sure they received the respect they deserved from adults and peers alike. I was proud to work there.

Working with students who faced these challenges inspired me to learn more and, since I prefer fiction over nonfiction, I looked to novels to give me glimpses inside lives of people with autism and their families. I read: Rules by Cynthia Lord, Al Capone Does My Shirts by Gennifer Choldenko, Mockingbird by Kathryn Erskine, and Anything But Typical by Nora Raleigh Baskin. This month, I added the two new titles to my list. I enjoyed all of these books, but my favorite was Anything But Typical. It provided, for me, the best insights into the minds of my former students. My full review of the book is below.

One more thing: Even though the books I’ve listed above have been well-received and, in some cases, have won awards, you will still find reviews criticizing them for portraying too unrealistic or too limited an image of people on the autism spectrum. I am not trying to disagree with those readers. These books are fiction, and I don’t believe that a book exists (fiction or nonfiction) that can truly teach me what it’s like to have autism. And even if it does exist, it would only show me one person’s perspective. Every person with autism is unique. Despite the collective label, despite the similar symptoms and behaviors, no two people are alike. Period.

If you’re interested in learning more about autism and Asperger’s syndrome, I suggest you head over to Autism Speaks after reading this book review.

Anything by Typical by Nora Raleigh Baskin

Anything But Typical is told from the first person perspective of Jason Blake, a twelve-year-old boy with autism and (therefore) a whole lot of acronyms to deal with, from IEP to NLD to PDD-NOS. Jason perceives the world very differently from NTs (neurotypicals) and his preference for silence over unnecessary talk and the way he avoids looking at faces (because trying to decipher them is distracting) can be frustrating for those around him, even (especially) those closest to him. Jason’s outlet, the place where he can express himself and show his creativity, is writing. He even makes friends with a girl on the Storyboard site where he posts his fiction stories. But when various coincidences lead him to a convention where he could come face to face with his new friend, Jason’s anxiety increases to new levels. He doesn’t want this girl to see him. He doesn’t want her to know.

This is a great book. It ranks right up there with some of my other favorite YA novels about kids who are different, like Rules by Cynthia Lord and Out of My Mind by Sharon Draper. Anything But Typical is told with touching honesty. As a former middle school teacher, I can say from experience that Baskin’s description of Jason’s behavior in the library when his favorite computer is in use is excellent. And her portrayal of Jason’s misunderstood relationship with his mother is both beautiful and heartbreaking. These few lines from page 68 sum it up for me:

“Isn’t it funny, Jason?” my mother is saying. “Isn’t it funny that when you were really little you wouldn’t wear a belt at all? Isn’t that funny?”
I love my mother so much.
“Remember, Jason?” she is saying. “Remember those leggings?”
We are both remembering the same thing.
“Those leggings?” I repeat what she has said, so she will know this.
“No?” my mother is saying. “You don’t? It’s okay. It was a long time ago. Well, let’s go, shall we?”

The book made me want a second chance at understanding some of my former students with autism and asperger’s syndrome and, more than anything else, it made me want to give their moms a big hug.

My only complaints about this book are minor. There were a few typos that were distracting because at first I was trying to figure out if they were purposeful due to the first person narrator, and I felt that Jeremy, the brother, acted a lot younger than his nine years. But overall I really enjoyed this story and I was very pleased that it did NOT end with Jason writing the book. That ending has been a bit over-done in YA lit and I thought for awhile that was where this novel was heading.