"Small steps, I just take it day to day"

Just finished racing through the lovely "Small Steps" by Louis Sachar, sequel to the cult teen-lit sensation, "Holes". At first, I was a bit cynical. The head of English at my school had asked me to read it because we're considering putting it on the Year 8 syllabus in place of "Holes" next year. I'd loved the first book, but this year I'd had to teach it to a group that responded to it in a fairly sullen manner, which meant that I was not feeling so enthusiastic towards all things Sachar. I also kind of wondered why we would think of replacing the first book with the sequel, instead of looking for something else altogether.

Now, I haven't had a chance to form a professional opinion on the book just yet, but first of all, I have to say that I loved it, different as it was to "Holes". In fact, I think the differences made it so much more enjoyable than just a re-run of previous successes. All credit to Sachar for being willing to diversify. While he might be happy to make some money out of the immense success of "Holes", this is not a companion piece like his "Stanley Yelnats' Guide to Surviving Camp Green Lake" was. "Small Steps" uses the first novel as a point of departure, focusing on two of the minor characters from "Holes", and taking a very different tone and style.

I was amazed by how satisfying the book was, without being populist. What do I mean by that? In many ways, it had a lot of the hallmarks of a real crowd-pleasing Hollywood film, just in the form of a well-written, intelligent book. There was action, fighting, comedy, and a rollicking good dose of romance. But, well, not wanting to give anything away, the ending was a bit like "Roman Holiday", that classic romance movie that doesn't give the audience everything they thought they wanted, but gives them so much more instead. (Don't try to figure out what happens from the "Roman Holiday" comparison. There's nothing in there about Gregory Peck, and no, the closing lines aren't "Rome. By all means, Rome." Just read the book if you want to know the ending.)

I know that I love the vicarious romance that some films and books offer. When you identify with the everyday characters like Hugh Grant in "Notting Hill", or Theodore in "Small Steps", the thought of that character managing to get it together with the insanely hot girl is, well, satisfying. I first discovered that feeling when my parents showed me the 1980s BBC version of "Pride and Prejudice" (not the one with Colin Firth; the one before that), and I knew, from the start, that, whatever happened, Lizzy and Mr Darcy would get together, and it would be beautiful. So, well, it's a bit disappointing when that vicarious satisfaction is not there for the taking. (Again, trying not to give anything away, but it's hard...) But what I loved about the ending to "Small Steps" was the realism of it. Not in a miserable, existential, nothing-good-ever-happens kind of way. Far from it. There's the potential for much good to happen, but it will happen beyond the closing pages of the book. Now I'm hoping Sachar's got enough artistic integrity not to try and get another book out of it. If there's a third book in the Camp Green Lake cycle, I'm hoping it'll be about Magnet or Squid, or maybe even Zero. No, this isn't a shameless franchising up-in-the-air ending. As the song lyrics that end the novel demonstrate, it's not about sensational, exciting endings. It's about a life lived one step at a time. The kids are only seventeen, after all. Any book that tried to give a deep sense of resolution would be lying. Life isn't like that. Not when you're seventeen, or twenty-three, or eighty-three. No, life is lived in "small steps", taking it day by day. I suck at taking small steps. I want everything tied-up and clear-cut. Thankyou, Louis Sachar, for reminding me of how things really are, and how they need to be.

Togetherness

It's an occupational hazard of the "caring" professions (teaching, nursing, etc.) that you get so caught up in caring for your "clients" that you a) forget to care for yourself, and b) forget to care for your colleagues. Teaching is an amazingly collegial (is that a word?) profession, and I am in a very collegial school. We share resources; we share student-specific tips; we share germs and illness, thanks to school central heating systems; we also share stress at Report Writing times. All jokes aside, I've been amazed by how well the staff at my school get along, aside from the standard, only-to-be-expected workplace politics. We like each other. We like working together.

That being said, when you work in a high-pressure environment (and teaching, whatever they might say in the media, is high-pressure), it's easy to get bogged down in what you have to do, and not to take the time to enjoy the relationships you have at work. It's also hard, when you have so many students demanding time and attention to remember that your colleagues deserve time and attention too - and not always school-related attention.

This really struck me today for a number of reasons. The first reason was when I found out that one of my friends from work - a fellow graduate who sits with me in the staff room - had some sort of seizure/collapse at work late yesterday afternoon, after I'd left. Fairly distressing, really, and a lot of us were quite worried about her. Needless to say, she wasn't in today. Then, later in the day, I found myself in a number of quite meaningful and personally important conversations with colleagues who sit in my section of the staffroom.

Now, I was hardly lazy today. I taught five classes and got quite a bit of marking and preparation done. But I also took the time out to respond to the situations that arose with colleagues. I took the time to call my friend to see how she was. I took the time to have those important and valuable conversations with colleagues in the staffroom. And no, none of that counts as time spent on developing my teaching practice, or on actual teaching. Does that mean it was unimportant? No teacher worth their salt would say that time spent building relationships with students is less important than time spent "teaching" them. If that's the case, then time spent building relationships with colleagues is also essential.

I know that my day was enriched greatly by these experiences. And it was good to be reminded that our lives are more than what goes on in the classroom, and to see that our relationships as colleagues can go beyond sharing lesson plans, and can, at times, enter into the realm of helping each other personally, in ways that we may never full