Congratulations, DHS Class of 2025!
On Thursday I went to graduation at Douglas High School. A few years ago, when this group of seniors were freshman, I took a long term substitute teaching job. The position was empty, so I was the teacher-of-record for those Algebra 1 classes. They were my students—my kids.
It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, and it wrecked me. I ended up giving my two weeks in April, after I had three major panic attacks in a single day. It was 2021-2022, the first year we were fully back from the pandemic. Every teacher I talked to said it was the worst year they’d ever experienced in terms of behavior issues. That, on top of the regular stress of being a first year teacher, not having had the same training and preparation as most first-year-teachers, and some truly aggressive parents, just became too much. The final straw was a parent calling, in front of the principal, to berate and belittle me. What really hit me was that it was a parent of a student with a B+ in my class, a student that I thought I had a positive relationship with. It made me paranoid. What were the students that smiled at me and thanked me in class telling their parents when they got home? How many more calls like that could I expect?
I know some of my kids think I left because they were giving me such a hard time. But as difficult as it was, they’re the reason I lasted as long as I did. Because even when they were being absolute turds, they made me laugh. They inspired me. They exasperated me when they contritely apologized for mischief. They made me melt when they confided in me. They made me leap for joy when a concept clicked after some after-class tutoring. I absolutely loved and adored every single one of them. I still do. They’re my kids, and they always will be.
I can’t even begin to express how proud of them I am.
And for whatever small role I played in their high school experience, I’m proud of myself. I tried to be an understanding ear for their problems, to be their champion against the great looming villain that is Math, to make Algebra as fun as it could be. Who knows how much of that they understood, most of them being freshmen at the time. Who knows how much they understand now, having not really seen me the last three years, about how much I still care. But those kids are always going to be a part of me. And it was incredible to cheer for each and every one of them as they walked across that stage.
Their class motto is a quote from one of my favorite songs growing up: Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten.
Today is where your book begins. The rest is still unwritten.
I hope they write the most incredible adventures for themselves. I hope someday I get to read them.
Congratulations, DHS Class of 2025!
Free-Write:
Free-writes are short scenes that come out of a short stint of writing time on a program called FlowState, which deletes everything I’ve written if I stop writing. I go into them blind, can’t stop to think while I write, and don’t edit them before they’re posted here beyond correcting any typos or punctuation. Basically: I don’t know what this is about, either!
I was a bit blank on ideas today, so this one comes to you courtesy of the King of Cups card in my tarot deck.
20-Minute Free-Write: Sentry Storm of the Sea
The sea had been rough since they left port. It was as if some great sea king was pouring great cupfuls of the ocean back over their heads. James had never been fond of the sea, but this, truly, was beyond the pale. If it weren’t so important he meet with the king, he would have had the captain turn them back around days ago.
There was nothing for it, really. They had to continue, at this point, closer to the eastern shores than those in the west. James just hoped he would make it without throwing himself overboard just to be done with it all.
He leaned against the railing on the lower deck, staring at the grey, angry sea. He found that watching the rise and fall of the waves at they cam helped somewhat with the seasickness. Perhaps seeing the cause of the movement helped his mind prepare his body for the sensation as it came. But James didn’t pretend to understand sure intricacies as the human body or mind. He had doctors for that. None on board, of course. It was expensive enough to purchase the ship and the crew and passage for his meager entourage that would be necessary once they arrived. Doctors were everywhere. If they were to secure the necessary funding for the expansion of their settlement, then the expertise of their leaders would be vital. James didn’t maintain any expertise in the subjects that the king would question: security, provisions, building, finances. He was an excellent organizer of others skills, and that had gotten him far in this life, but he’d never bothered to gain any such paltry working skills. It wasn’t, he was sure, his lot in life to labor under a craft.
So they hadn’t brought any excess personel. No doctor to ask about his small theory of sea sickness. But it hardly mattered, if it worked in practice. So James stood at the railing, drenched from the rain. The winds were so severe that it seemed to come at him horizontally, rather than above. It was a wonder they hadn’t been completely driven off course. But then, perhaps they had. James doubted the captain would confide something like that to him. The man was too smart for that. Hopefully smart enough to get them back on track before it became obvious.
The waves rose and fell, and rose and fell again, and something seemed to break the surface in the trough of the wave. James squinted, leaning forward. They’d yet to encounter any interesting sea life. If they’d finally come across a pod of dolphins or a small whale, it would be a welcome break from the monotony.
The next wave crested and fell, and James spotted something twisting just beneath the surface. He leaned further over the raining, squinting against the rain. As the next wave passed, he made out two of the writhing shapes.
What could they be? Their bodies seemed too long, too lithe, to be dolphins or whales or even sharks. They seemed more like eels, but they were larger than any eels James had ever heard off.
In the trough of the next wave, one of the creatures broke the surface, its long body curving up and out and back into the water as it dove. Its long-finned tail flicked, sending a light splash of water over James’ shoes. It was more like illustrations of sea monsters that any creature he knew to be real. He couldn’t help his curiosity, continuing to lean over the railing and stare at the water. A few waves passed with no sign of the creatures. Then, just as James was ready to give up, a wave crested and brought with it a sleek, rounded head. The creature had something like a beak, thin a flat, with sharp pointed teeth. A short knob at the top of the beak could have been some sort of nose, though James didn’t think sea creatures generally had much use for noses, so perhaps it had another purpose. It’s eyes, one either side of its head, were narrow and lidded, also odd for sea creatures, which generally had wide eyes suited for taking in weak light. It’s head bulged out over its beak and row of short fins curled back over the center of its head.
It was the oddest thing James had ever seen, and he was so engrossed in studying it that he utterly failed to notice the tail creeping up the side of the ship until it had wrapped around his wrist. He reeled back, fighting to free his arm, but he was already too unbalanced, leaning over the railing as he had been, and it took little effort of the second monster’s part to haul him overboard and into the unrelenting sea. He fought to the surface. The rain had slowed, drizzling nearly to a stop, and the clouds split, revealing a shaft of bright sunlight. The winds settled from a riotous gale into a steady stream. James could hear a cheer rising up from the ship, and saw the sails being raised to catch the favorable wind. He opened his mouth to call for help as something slick wrapped tightly around his ankle, and before he could make a sound it yanked him beneath the waves. Down and down they went, the water growing darker and colder and his lungs cramping. James gasped, and the water rushed in. He choked. The creature’s tail released his ankle. He drifted in the dark, the cold, the silence, a sudden sense of peace settling over him. He looked up through the gloom, where a faint tinge of green amongst the dark blue indicated the surface. Then that, too, faded away.
Book Review
Lilith by Nikki Marmery
Lilith is a wonderful reimagining of the bible stories most people are at least somewhat familiar with: Adam and Eve, Noah's Ark, Jezebel, and the death of Jesus. It's also an epic journey through the entire history of the world. The sheer scope of this novel is impressive, and Nikki Marmery commands the events of the story like a conductor directing a symphony.
However, due to it's scope, the novel demands huge leaps at each transition point, and that works against Marmery's flow and characterization. In the midst of each event, the character of Lilith struggles and fights. She takes action to try to force her own agency through the obstinate barrier of male arrogance. But in between these events, Lilith waits. She hides. She laments the state of the world. This is ultimately necessary to the structure of the story, but it creates a divide between who Marmery intends Lilith to be, and how she comes across in the story.
That being said, I found the active version of Lilith likable and sympathetic. She is not a demoness, as she is in common mythology, and although she is immortal, she is ultimately an ordinary woman. An Everywoman, who could as easily be any of us. By making Lilith as powerless as the rest of us, Marmery cultivates the same sense of futility that we often feel in the face of an entire world that sees us as lesser beings. And yet, Lilith still tries. She still fights. She still seeks the next way forward and believes in a better version of this world. This is key, I think, to the story, because it sympathizes with the plights of real, ordinary women while encouraging them to keep fighting in every little way they can dream up. However, if you picked up this book expecting the Mother of Demons to exact her revenge on men, you would be sorely disappointed.
And I think it goes without saying that if you are offended by anything that challenges the Bible, this is not the book for you.
I loved the messaging and symbolism throughout the story. Some readers may find it heavy-handed, but I think it works because the values aren't what might be considered "preachy." The entire point is that there is no prescription, no commandments. The refrain throughout the book is "Be your own gods." Inherently, that leads to self-determination. Marmery does suggest that such a belief system would inherently lead to more specific beliefs, such as preserving the environment and kindness towards others, and the way those themes are presented repeatedly throughout the novel is what some readers might find heavy-handed.
The style and language throughout the book is brilliant. Marmery writes with a voice that evolves the way one can imagine Lilith evolving, from a Biblical-style of speech in the early days, gradually modernizing and becoming more complex as times change.
Overall, I enjoyed the book and found it to be a quick read. This isn't a revenge novel, it's one of love, so if you're a fan of traditional Lilith mythology (vengeful mother of demons) this probably isn't the book you're looking for. If you're seeking a bastion of female empowerment re-interpreting traditional male religion with a realistic female lead, then you'll love this book.
