Sandra Rose Hughes

(Napoleon Dynamite is showing the proper way for high schoolers to dance.) Before the students arrive at school on their first day, the teachers have already been there for at least a week. During the week before school, we educators plan for the coming year, discuss new policies, prepare our classrooms, and most importantly, sign up for our adjunct duties. Part of our job throughout the school year is to work at no less than four after-school events. So, near the end of our work week, the school secretaries or the athletic director will mention casually at the end of a meeting that the adjunct duties sign-up list is ready. At this cue, every teacher in the room stiffens. Nostrils twitch. Eyes glance from side to side. We begin breathing heavier and our heart rates increase. A moment after that, we smile nervously at one another and try to look nonchalant as we carefully gather our things and begin slowly moving out of the building where our meeting was held towards the building wher

I borrowed the picture to the left from this website . ISTANBUL The lid on my green-grass world flew off and Doubt clawed in. Some Pandora managed to cram her pestilence back into my box. Loneliness batted against my tight-closed eyes, Ignorance screeched into my ears, and the worst part was, Hope escaped. One of the good things about writing this blog is that it has changed the way I take rejection from publishers. Sure, it upsets me when I get rejected, but then I think, "Ooh...something to blog about." It takes a negative thing and makes it positive. As I have said before, when I say I've been "proudly" rejected...I'm speaking honestly. I am proud that I tried, and I plan to try again. If I spend my whole life trying to get published and still never really succeed, I can at least be proud that I made the attempt. And anyways, sooner or later, if I just keep at it, I will succeed. Even a broken clock is right twice a day. Although I really want to see my n

Covetousness I covet your laughter As if it were in short supply. I covet your hours away As if there weren’t enough time. I covet your other nine fingers, The ones I don’t own. It's dangerous to be so jealous of you.

This week I had four different students tell me that they thought I was a "cool," "popular" teacher. Obviously, I have never shown them the above picture of myself. As you can see, I am one classy lady. I am a complete geek. Unfortunately, it's not in that, "I'm a geek, and I started my own multi-million dollar computer company" way that's really popular right now. I also wasn't a geek in the "I have poor hygiene, and other students throw their lunches at me" sort of way, thank goodness. I was the kind of geek who didn't watch R-Rated movies, looked a lot like Velma from Scooby Doo (I still do, in fact), really liked hanging out with their parents, was shocked by cussing, read 19th century novels for fun, spoke like a walking dictionary, and who teachers always really liked. Ergo, I became an English teacher. When I got to college, I learned that all of the above traits were actually strengths, which was a relief. Do the kids

This is a piece I wrote for the Kern Valley Sun last year. I got quite a few comments from my students and other community members about it. As a high school teacher, I have noticed that teenagers have an amazing capability for selective memory. They cannot remember when we have homework due, they cannot recollect where they should stack the books we have been stacking for an entire school year, and they cannot recall whether or not I allow gum in my classroom (I don’t). But if I even once mention that we might watch a movie, they will remember for weeks, possibly months later. If we play a fun game once in the entire school year for five minutes at the end of a class period, they bring this us up every single day thereafter. “Mrs. Hughes,” they say eagerly, as if they have come up with the apotheosis of all ideas, “I don’t think we should do any work today. Instead, we should watch a movie or play that game!” That’s when I will turn on the overhead, and say, “Maybe another time. To

I am sort of embarrassed. I almost got conned into one of those poetry publishing rackets where you buy their book and they accept any poem that comes their way. I barely even remember submitting my poem to an online poetry contest about 6 months ago. Yesterday, I got this letter saying that my poem had been moved to the semi-finals, and that I could be a winner. Then they went on to say that they liked my poem so much that they were going to include it in the next, "Famous Poets of the Heartland" anthology, and I could buy my very own copy. Thankfully, the warning sirens going off on my brain kicked in, especially when I noticed the "Famous Poets" motto: Where Happiness is Being Published! I also thought that the editor, a woman named Lavender Aurora, seemed a little too thrilled about my "talent." No legitimate editor I have ever submitted to has been that excited, even if they enjoyed and accepted my work. This screams: VANITY PUBLISHING loud and clear

Here is a picture of my writing nook. It's basically just a corner of the trailer we're living in with a laptop and a window. I try to write at least a page a day, and this is where I do it. Ouch. Another rejection. When it rains, it pours! The Rose and Thorn Journal has a very quick reponse-time, which I must admit is very considerate of them. Being rejected is like taking off a band-aid. It's best just to do it quick and get it over with. The Rose and Thorn Journal rejected me within 17 days of my submission. Pretty impressive. Here is one of the poems they rejected. 18.Drowning, Dazed, and Blinded I always thought love would mean… Trumpets, trombones and saxophones, A feeling so loud, it would drown out my self. I always thought love would mean… Flashes, fireworks and sparks, A blinding display that would leave me dazed. I always thought love would mean… Perfume, potpourri, and sugary-scented, An overpowering aroma that would take my breath away. But I like to hear mysel

Two rejections in one week? Sigh. CALYX (A journal of Art and Literature by Women) sent me a very polite form letter today rejecting four of my poems. They wrote, "We appreciate the opportunity to review your submission and consider it for publication. At least two editors have read your work and found that we are unable to use your submission in the Journal. We apologize for replying with a form letter, but the volume of submissions no longer allows us the luxury of a personal reponse." I thought it was worded particularly well, and the editor actually wrote my first name on the top in real pen and signed the bottom. That's unique. I've never recieved a rejection letter where they signed it with real pen. So, Calyx Journal- I rate you FOUR STARS for class. Here is one of the poems they rejected. Maybe it's not subtle enough. I'm not very good at subtlety yet. Chrysalis A butterfly can’t return to her chrysalis No matter how fast the outside winds blow, No ma

Oh, the angst of rejection! Barefoot books rejected me very politely in an email yesterday. Last Friday, I sent in my favorite of all the short stories I have written: Shelly the Brave and the Creature in her Closet. It's a story about a twin girl (based on my twin, Carolyn) who is very headstrong and clever and is convinced that there is a monster in her closet. It has a lot of alliteration and fun words, and what I think is a nice pace. It's only been rejected 3 times so far- I supposed it is time to try again. At least Barefoot Books let me know quickly and politely. I have been teaching my students poetry...and it is very difficult. We have read examples of poetry, talked about the poems, analyzed them, etc, but yet I still have to say 25 times a day, "poetry does not have to rhyme!" Asking them to actually write poetry is like pulling my own ears off. Some of them get the idea, but only about 1/3rd. The boys will say, "I don't like that mushy stuff."