Jul 9, 2015


He Who Breaks the Law must go Back to the House of Pain


NVWP 7-8-15; Day 3

It’s my third day stranded on the island of NVWP; a place that is a conglomeration of islands throughout time and television. At times, it is Gilligan’s Island when Amber, who displays the physical appearance of Mary Ann while having the attitude of Ginger, directs I.T. lessons like the professor. Before you can blink, the island transforms into The Island of Misfit Toys as King Peter Moonracer tenderly cares for his misfits by fixing all of their technical difficulties with bubble gum and duct tape. And it was just yesterday, as an island on Survivor, when Sarah “Jeff Probst” Baker extinguished two tiki torches of two participants’ right before my eyes…and there wasn’t even a vote! Don’t let her motherly mannerisms fool you; underneath it all, she is as heartless as the Tinman. I can prove it!


Earlier today, she forced me to assume the role of Robinson Crusoe’s servant, Friday. I supplied breakfast, and it went off without a glitch because everyone knows that America runs on Dunkin. As I finished up playing host, people worked on their morning pages. At 9:30, I should have known that evil walks beside me when Sarah entered cave 447 with a devilish grin; however, I did not see this. I was consumed with worry about using my ten thumbs as the day’s ethnographer. Not only that, but my mind wandered lonely as a cloud for I could not rid my mind of the sixth grade SOLs.

Ethnographer [SOL 6.4a Word Origins and Derivations]

Ethno: Greek origin; means “people/race/culture”

Graph: Greek origin; means “to write or draw”

Ethnographer: A person skilled in the art of ethnography [SOL 6.4b Affixes]

Number of Syllables: eth·nog·ra·phy [SOL 6.4e Use word-reference materials]

Pronunciation: eTHˈnäɡrəfē/

Part of Speech: noun

Definition: The scientific description of the customs of individual peoples and cultures

As I warm up my ten thumbs, I can sense that something is amiss.

Then it hits me like a ton of bricks: What?! Three presentations today!

I do not know how she did it, but Sarah just drove her knee into my groin from across the room. I double over in pain and gasp for breath, which isn’t easy to do while sitting in a chair.

Sarah announces that she will be today’s first speaker…

Presentation by Sarah Baker

How Do I Write? (Let me write/talk/draw/share the ways) AKA: Exploring Your Writing Process

Another vicious roundhouse to my jaw as her two different titles confuses this low brow bottom feeder!

As she unleashes blow after blow upon me, she taunts the other castaways by announcing that she is an online teacher. This means that she hardly sees her students.

All I can think is, “Brilliant! But, damn it! Why can’t this be me?”

She lulls me and the rest of the castaways into a false sense of security when she defuses us with the misplacing of her documents followed by her first writing prompt: ATTITUDE  
 
Write three adjectives (words not phrases) that describe your attitude toward writing in an academic environment.

CRACK! Sarah’s elbow breaks my nose as the castaways throw out words but neither she nor I can keep up.

As I wipe the splatter from my keyboard, I whisper, “We were only following your directions, Tinman.”


As Sarah scribbles on the white board in a language all her own, my eyes begin to bleed.


Sarah states she uses these words to gauge her students’ feelings.

My mind wanders to Maggie, one of Sarah’s victims whom she voted off the island yesterday. In Maggie’s lesson from yesterday, she asked us to think about questions you have in life. So my question is, “Do online students even have feelings?” Poor Maggie; it was obvious to me that Sarah feared Maggie’s rugby skills could possibly topple her from her throne.

Sarah announces, “Every person is an island because each writing process produces feelings which are different.” Through these writings, she is trying to build community and prove to her online students that they are not alone.

My mind locks ups and my temples pound when I realize this is an oxymoron: “How can online students build a community when they are sitting at home in front of their computers?! It is not like they are going to build a house with hammer and nails.”


She continues her presentation with another writing-prompt: WHY AM I HERE?

I think, “That is a simple answer for I am floundering now: Torture! Pure, torture. My fingers are sausages. This ethnographer task has replaced waterboarding as the torture device of the 21st Century.”

Roxanne “Put on the Red Light” French teleports me back to my high school days as I keep looking at her papers for the notes I missed. I pray for a life raft off this island.


Sarah then discusses the reading of an article by Betty Flowers: Madman, Architect, Carpenter, and Judge: The Roles of the Writing Process

Sarah asks, “Where are the voices?”

My minds screams, “IN MY HEAD!”

Norma and Norman Bates appear at the table beside me, and they are at each other again.

Norma Bates: No! I tell you no! I won't have you bringing some young girl in for supper! By candlelight, I suppose, in the cheap, erotic fashion of young men with cheap, erotic minds!

Norman Bates: Mother, please...!

Norma Bates: And then what? After supper? Music? Whispers?

Norman Bates: Mother, she's just a stranger. She's hungry, and it's raining out!

Norma Bates: "Mother, she's just a stranger"! As if men don't desire strangers! As if... ohh, I refuse to speak of disgusting things, because they disgust me! You understand, boy? Go on, go tell her she'll not be appeasing her ugly appetite with MY food... or my son! Or do I have tell her because you don't have the guts! Huh, boy? You have the guts, boy?

Norman Bates: Shut up! Shut up!


WHACK! I slap myself and mumble, “Pull your shit together, soldier.” I scratch a message for help and jam it in a bottle; while Tinman has her back turned, I launch it into the sea.


Next, Sarah introduces two more articles…and Sally Fields appears before me as Sybil yet speaks to me using the voice of Anna Lamott. I am convinced that the Anna Lamont article supports my Statement of Inquiry!

While reading the line in an article by Susan Wyche that, “Famous writers do crazy things.” Sybil responds, “So what?! I know some not so famous writers who do crazy things too! Now, can someone find me an aroma therapy pot and a fifth of Jack Daniels? Damn, today was NOT the day to stop sniffing glue.”

Sleep deprivation sets in and my eyes glaze over. Sybil, Norman, and Norma take their leave. 

Sarah can sense my weakened state as she gives another writing assignment: WHAT ANIMAL IS YOUR WRITING?

Robbie the Robot appears and cries, “Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!” Yet, I don’t even hear his warning pleas as I dive into the task.

ME: A Caffeinated Sloth

A sloth can sleep between 15 and 18 hours a day, so when he awakes he must do a lot of activity in a short amount of time. He knows he needs some extra help to get his ass moving, so he downs a pot of coffee or two and lets the words fly across the page. There are too many ideas bouncing in his head that he just jots notes on many topics.



Like silent fingernails scratching a chalkboard, Sarah scribbles on the white board once again in that language of her own. This time she lists all of the animals the castaways have selected.


For use as weapons of mass destruction, I snatch Heather’s knitting needles from her hands, then I jump upon the desk and shout, “THERE IT IS! AT LAST, THE PROOF I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR!”

No one seems to notice me.

I exclaim, “Sarah is planning on shipping us off to the Island of Dr. Monreau Farrington!”


“What?! You don’t believe me? You want more proof?! Well, here:

Dr. Monreau ‘Call me, Mark’ Farrington states, ‘I am a bear.’

Roxanne ‘Put on the Red Light’ French comments, ‘I love bears…My son is a bear.’

Diane shares her piece, ‘The leader of the pack returns to the pack to share.’”

Not one of the castaways bat an eye.

Sybil, Norman, and Norma return and scream, “RUN! SAVE YOURSELF!”

Sarah is the only one who appears to notice me upon the desk; as a mischievous grin spreads across her face, she unveils her final attack by announcing her next writing prompt: WHO ARE THE CHARACTERS IN YOUR HEAD?

I cry out to Sybil, Norman, and Norma, “MY GOD! HOW DOES SHE KNOW YOU ARE THERE?! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, CAN YOU GET US OFF THIS ISLAND?”

Soon, the other castaways release their voices and the room is filled to maximum capacity!



I whisper, "Look closely. You can see them!"


Sarah: Remora (cleaner fish) / Miner who is searching [With a sharpened pick to bury deep in my back!]

Peter:  Tyrant /schizophrenic

Amber: mom who is lock jawed and judgmental

Joe: Surfer dude / Jerry Garcia / judgmental HS teacher

Michelle: Bully / Word smith in a negative way

Amy Amphibian: Silly young voice / neurotic therapist with the vocabulary of a veteran sailor

Mark: His mother /composite of teachers of the past /meditation teacher

Roxanne: Wild Child / Her mother

Heather: The Madonna and the Whore

The word, Whore, is a trigger and instantly Norma and Norman begin to argue:

Norman Bates: Now mother, I'm going to uh, bring something up...

Norma Bates: Haha... I am sorry, boy, but you do manage to look ludicrous when you give me orders.

Norman Bates: Please, mother.

Norma Bates: No! I will not hide in the fruit cellar! Ha! You think I'm fruity, huh? I'm staying right here. This is my room and no one will drag me out of it, least of all my big, bold son!

Norman Bates: They'll come now, mother! He came after the girl, and now someone will come after him. Please mother, it's just for a few days, just for a few days so they won't find you!

Norma Bates: "Just for a few days"? In that dark, dank fruit cellar? No! You hid me there once, boy, and you'll not do it again, not ever again; now get out! I told you to get out, boy.

Norman Bates: I'll carry you, mother.

Norma Bates: Norman! What do you think you're doing? Don't you touch me, don't! NORMAN! Put me down, put me down, I can walk on my own...


Maggie: Hypercritical English professor/Hermione Granger [A know-it-all]

Sybil cries out to me, “Secretly, she hates you because you are opposites! She knows everything and you know nothing! Hahahaha!”

Amy W: Coffee junky / mouthy bitch / guilty first grader

Ron Weasley appears [Damn you, Maggie!] and tries to tempt me, “If you can convince Amy, maybe the others will follow. You know, Amy has the moxie that would make the perfect jammer for any professional roller derby team. She may just keep you alive."

Janigue: Yoga instructor / perfectionist

Amy C: The Go Daddy “Stick It” girl / paparazzi reporter


Katie Catholic: Apathetic teenager / Nun

“Son of a bitch!” I scream as the words, yoga instructors, stick it, and nun run roughshod through my mind. “No! Stop! I didn’t mea-”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Norma Bates wallops me across the face, “Gut your mind out of the gutter, boy. Besides, she said ‘Nun’ not catholic school girl!”

Diane: Autistic child with no filter {smart and yet naïve}

Speaking of smart and naïve, I wonder, “Where the hell is Norman, and why didn’t he stop his mother from kicking my ass?”

Gabriela: Grumpy movie critic with no positive reviews / OCD yard sale shopper

Leonard from the movie, Momento, appears and declares, “Well, now you know where Gabriela got that aroma therapy pot. You want me write that down for you, before you forget it?”

Thankfully, Sarah shares an online example of a Literacy Narrative {Created from all of the writing prompts}.


“SHIT!” I shriek, “THE CASTAWAYS' VOICES HAVE NOT DISPURSED!”

Lastly, Sarah “Jeff Probst” Baker gives us a website, www.CriticalThinking.org, and votes us all off the island.

I screech, “SHE IS DONE AND SO AM I!”

I converse with Roxanne “Put on the Red Light” French on the notes I have missed. God bless her paper and pencil mentality. Her handwriting is legible and I am impressed by her impeccable penmanship.

I have two more presentations to go…All I can think is, “I can’t breathe! I must get out of here!”


I slam my laptop closed and use it as a shield as I sprint for the door. I can guarantee you that I didn’t let it hit me in the ass on the way out.

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