Accomplishment

If You Can’t Do…

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

If you can’t do, teach.

We’ve all heard that through our lives in some context or another. The basic idea being that people who don’t have enough ability or gumption to perform an action or accomplish a task just give in to teaching others how to do it. Teaching others to be better than they are, in other words. As a teacher, of course, it is a common hope that this is exactly one of the things we are accomplishing – inspiring the next generations to aspire to rise above the things we have done and take the initiative to do wonderfully in their endeavors.

I’ve heard the old adage about teachers my whole life, honestly, and it has never really bothered me much until very recently. Of course, in addition to being a teacher I am also an author. I don’t ride the top of the best seller list, but I have 9 books on the market right now and plenty more in progress. I often hear positive feedback about my work, and I am very pleased and proud of what I have accomplished.

One of the people who has been something of an inspiration for me, the first published author I ever met, in fact, is another person I know who is proud of what they have accomplished. This person is someone I have known for more than half my life, and has encouraged me without fail in all of my endeavors. They are also the person who showed me just how damaging that statement about teachers really is.

While at an event this week I was working away preparing for a new school year, and brainstorming story ideas – double tasking as I have every year since I became a teacher. One of the authors who was at this event with me happened to be the very one I mentioned above, and they were doing their very best to sell books like the rest of us were. At one point a couple of teachers came over and started talking to this author, revealing that they are teachers and what they teach, as we do. The author in question mentioned her history in the school system and continued talking until the pair of educators left.

At this point this person, whom I’ve known to have some larger than life opinions before, turned to some of the authors there and said “I worked in the school system for 23 years, they don’t want me to tell them what I really think about teachers.” She went on to rant about how teachers are not able to write books and do anything other than teach and that one of the reasons she wrote the books she has is because teachers can’t and she wanted to show them up.

I was floored. Like I said, I’ve been writing for nearly 20 years and I’ve known this person for most if not all of that time. I’ve been teaching for five years and, ironically enough since teachers “can’t do it,” I have published more work since starting to teach than I ever did before getting my license. This author laughed her comments away and just went on about her day while I tried to fathom how someone could make comments that are so harmful and, frankly, so irrevocably stupid. 

All too often in this world we don’t think about the things that come out of our mouths before they spill over into the void and show everyone our true selves. It is easy to make a comment disparaging against someone else or downplaying their accomplishments. In fact, in former generations this sort of speech was pretty common in my area, as a lot of older people I’ve encountered have no qualms about calling each other “fat boy” or something equally tasteless. This author is one of that generation. I’m sure that goes without saying. The statement about teachers is also one that is far older than myself, and probably even older than she is, so it’s not a shock that she has heard it. 

The shock comes from someone actually expounding on it, stating that teachers “can’t write books” especially while in the presence of not just one, but two teachers, because my wife was right beside me – and another author who has a sibling that has taught for more than 20 years. It blows my mind how someone can have such an honestly simple-minded and senseless opinion. Granted, we all know what they say about opinions. They’re just like assholes, everyone’s got one. It’s often best to keep them to yourself, too. 

My point in all this is multifaceted, but it  starts with this: think about the things you put out in the world. Don’t talk trash about others just for the sake of doing it or to make yourself feel better. It definitely does not make you seem high and mighty, but it shows the world you think that you are.

Also be wary of who you listen to in this world. They might ultimately be a bigoted, small-minded person whose opinion of themselves is much more inflated than it should be.

Saying like “if you can’t, teach” might have started out seeming a funny quip about someone who maybe didn’t get where they wanted to with a chosen field, but it has not aged well.

Coming from a teacher who both teaches AND does – let old, false sayings die with the past like they should. Your accomplishments are not limited to or by your profession. How would the world react to it if the saying  “If you can’t play, coach” came back into more popular circulation? We all know how hopelessly obsessed with sports a large portion of the population is, especially in Appalachia. I dare say coaches everywhere would throw a fit and be on the defensive far more than teachers ever have been.

Talking down about anyone’s abilities based on their profession or their chosen vocation of any sort is not OK. It is not intelligent. It is not funny. Someone I’ve thought was a bit inspiring for a long time lost a lot of my respect this week, but I doubt they will care, even if they read this. Frankly, I don’t care enough to confront them about it and bring it up, either. It just isn’t worth it. What I will do, however, is continue to teach to the best of my ability and train the future generations to be better than I am while ALSO writing and publishing books and using the gift God gave me while hoping to hit that bestseller list one day. But, even if I don’t, I’ll still know – and so will others – that I both taught AND did. And that’s definitely something to be pleased with.

The Age of Innocence

/ Damean Mathews, Author / 2 Comments

As another school year is slowly winding to a close, life moves back into the familiar mode of Summer (and yes, that’s Summer the holiday, not just summer the season). One of the good things about being a teacher, of course, is that we also get to enjoy some of the freedoms we can all remember from our youths – and it is a highly coveted thing. Even now I can remember the way things altered as the school year wound to a close. After all, as a kid, that’s the way life is split for you, typically. School and not school. Summer and not Summer. Play and not play. It’s just a fact of life.

The thing many of us never wanted to think about, though, is what happens when that separation is over. What life is going to look like when Summer just becomes summer, when time changes from being a split between school and not school. Apart from the days when we rested in the satisfaction of having that dichotomy we have only the nostalgia of looking back at “the good old days.” That’s where I find myself today, lunch block slowly slipping away minute by sleepy minute. I’m not alone in today’s reminiscence, though.

Outside my classroom windows there is a small lawn where the younger children in another section of our school have recently been going out to play on warmer days. Today they are out en masse, and my classroom and I have found ourselves immersed in watching their antics. From my students, between the ages of 14 and 17, myself in my mid-30s, and my school’s SSC who is older than me, we have all been drawn into their games.

Sun shining on the bright green lawn, clouds passing over just enough to provide a break for the eyes, if not the skin, the children who have been granted their momentary pre-noon freedom engaged in activities ranging from dodgeball, one-armed baseball, tag, sidewalk drawing, and their own games that seemed to combine some combination of all the above. It was just as amusing, for me, to observe the way we all reacted to their spectacle. We laughed when one of them got a win, or took a rolling tumble to avoid getting hit with the ball. Arms shot up in victory, while none of them showed the standard and dreaded playground separation tactics that plague older students. It was, in the words of our SSC, innocence.

It’s no secret that I do teach at-risk kids, that I myself could have been considered an at-risk kid based on my mother’s income and my status as a child of a single parent household. So when these students, whom many stereotypically assume are troubled and trouble-making, are taking the time to bond and enjoy life while living simultaneously through the playground games of others, it says a lot. Students, who sometimes have to live their lives on guard for themselves and their loved ones for fear of injury or worse, sitting in a classroom and talking amongst themselves while reflecting on the times they had in those playground settings truly puts things in perspective.

I see it as a highly important and therapeutic activity, in all honesty. The fact this allowed students who have to build walls in order to keep themselves safe to drop those barriers and look back on times of innocence means a lot to me as a teacher and a nostalgic person. Most, if not all, of my students know my room is a safe space anyway, and this secured that even more. I take pride in my efforts to meet my students where they are coming from in an intellectual, educational, and social-emotional standpoint. I ask them how they are doing, and they know that is not just a nicety. Seeing the way the games of others put a smile on all of our faces today, it really made me think that humanity as a whole is truly striving for the freedom of a child. The unspent innocence so many take for granted without even realizing they are doing so.

When we were children we couldn’t have imagined the way our lives would alter by the time we left school. That long-distant future was as unreal to us as waking up one day with no sun in the sky. Teaching high school seniors for four years has allowed me to see that change first-hand with others, and it’s impressive how well some handle it. Some students rise to the occasion with plans and schemes galore and provide themselves with failsafes to protect them in the event life gives them a turn for the worse. Others… Others slip on the cap and gown and venture out into the final great Summer with little more than hopes and dreams in their reserves to get them through.

Regardless of the way we approached the end of those playground days, the truth of life comes into play in just how much we allow ourselves the freedom to observe and enjoy the innocence of youth. Wherever life has taken us, it is important to remember those days of fun. The bonds of youth, of innocent life, of going outside and truly just enjoying being alive, are something none of should ever forget. The blessed simplicity of just living for the moment, not having to concern ourselves with what bills need to be paid, what stresses await us when we look through the checkbook or get back home, the idea that we are all just able to enjoy spending time with our friends or even alone is truly something to savor.

I know it isn’t always easy, but I recommend taking a moment to do just observe the life of youth. Enjoy a moment of watching children play without judgement, look at animals lounging in the sun, watch a river flow, anything that pulls you out of the stresses of life. We all deserve a moment to remember how good life should be. That’s the truth of our situations in the world. We have, most of us, forgotten that life is supposed to be enjoyable. It shouldn’t be competition and anger, stress and work, bills and class status. It should just… be. But until that’s something we can make happen, the next best thing might be to just relax. And, hey, while we’re at it, why not find a playground that’s empty and have some fun of our own?

Coming to Terms

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

I went to the visitation service for my biological father last night. I’m not at all sure what I expected to happen there, but it was certainly not the way things went. Or maybe it was.

For those of you who don’t know, I was raised in a single parent household because my father made his own choices. Those choices did not involve me. Through the years I have made an abundance of attempts to reach out to him and create some sort of relationship, against the advice and better judgement of pretty much everyone around me. For a little while at one point it worked. When I was 12 I convinced my mother to take me to his adoptive parents house and ask about him. This resulted in his nephew taking us directly to his house and we began forming what I hoped would be a real friendship, if nothing else.

It may have lasted a year. During that time we went to a few movies, ate a couple of meals. he bought me an action figure or two and I paid for at least one of those movies with saved allowance. Of course, toward the end of this period of time as we were driving him back to his home he asked to stop at a convenience store and borrowed money from me for a beer. I probably should have known.

Not long after that the contact stopped. Again, his choice, not mine. He stopped answering calls and letters. Faded into the distance again with no explanation or excuses.

For five years I didn’t know if he was alive or dead until we received a letter from the state that he had been summoned to court for back child support. The state’s choice. Not ours. So, at the age of 17, I convinced my mother to go with me to the courthouse and see if he showed. Surprisingly he did. He was told to pay, said he would, walked out the door with barely a glance in my direction, but I followed. I shouted for him and watched as he thought about walking on and getting in the car as if he hadn’t heard me.

But he stopped. He turned around and came back with his shark-toothed grin and made me feel like he was happy to see me. More empty promises of future contact, blank apologies for a lack of communication, and we went our separate ways.

I never heard from him again.

For nearly 18 years I went without a single word from him. Nearly as long without any word about him, save the mention of him given by his brother after the man found me online. I could have had a child of my own in that time, and watched them grow to be the age I had been the last time I laid eyes on the man who contributed to my DNA. I know damn well I would have treated that child a lot better than I had ever been treated.

Several times during those 18 years I attempted contact again, including one shameful time when I went to his house and knocked on his door. As I looked at the window I saw him looking back out at me before the woman he lived with opened the door and told me he wasn’t there.

I told myself that was it. I had done more than enough. But, it didn’t stop me from sending some last ditch letters. Or from making a phone call after my grandmother passed. A phone call that asked me to leave a message on a voicemail that had his name on it. I told him I wanted nothing from him, no money, no goods, I just wanted to speak to him. Even once.

I won’t even pretend I was surprised when the call wasn’t returned. Or that the next time I tried the number it had been disconnected/my number was blocked.

That time it really was over. I stopped trying. I won’t pretend I hadn’t thought about trying again, but I hadn’t. I had no clue if the man was alive or dead, if he had other children, if he thought about me. I knew nothing. Until I got the message last week that he was actually dead.

If you haven’t lost a parent, I’m glad. It has been something of a whirlwind for me, and nothing like the standard I’m sure. In talking to friends who have reached out, I do realize how many of us have a non-standard (read non-glamorous, non-Hollywood, non-cookie-cutter) relationship with our parents, so I definitely know many of you will know what I mean. A parent who has been nothing but a repeated disappointment, who you truly had no relationship with despite your best efforts, suddenly passing, is still quite a shock.

As I said, I went to the service last night. A more than two hour drive from where I work and nearly the same back to my house. To say I was nervous is an understatement. I have always hated funeral homes and hospitals, and this made that even worse. But I went. I’ve asked myself why it was important that I do so, and others have wondered the same, and I think the full truth is exactly what I said from the start. This is the only time I have had full control over the way this relationship ended. I never got to say my goodbyes. I never got to be the one to really choose how things would progress, or whether they would progress.

Sure, I had decided to stop trying to reach out, but that was really tantamount to deciding to stop pounding a closed door and let my bloodied knuckles heal. It was already sealed. I merely gave in to the choice of others. No, this time I was the one who had the final say. So I went to the service. It took a while to work up the gumption to walk in, but I did it. Amanda and I were 2 of the 7 people there for the man who had isolated himself from his flesh and blood. I will never be able to thank her enough for putting herself through that for me, for supporting me in what she knew was a lost cause. Having her by my side was the only thing that kept me from losing my grip, as it so often is.

When I went to the casket he looked so different from the man I remember, the man who I have maybe three pictures of, that I was worried we were in the wrong chapel. But it was him. His mother was there. My grandmother. Whom I hadn’t seen in probably 25 or more years. She had to subtly walk to the sign-in book to see if I was who she thought I was, but she came up to me and spoke. Told me she knew the effort I had put in, but chalked it up with the true Appalachian “you know how he was.”

No, ma’am. I do not know how he was. He made sure of that. You all made sure of that. I know next to nothing about the man. Even the things my own mother can tell me about the father of her child is little more than three decade old facts. How much of that changed? How much different was the stranger in that box who made sure I never had a chance to know any version of him from the 22 year old she had once cared for? I have no idea. And, given the likelihood those who have chosen not to reach out in the past will continue on that trend, I may never know.

Not once did my grandmother ask about me, my life, my wellbeing. Would it matter to her? No. Just shrugging off the way her son had behaved the same way he shrugged off his own child. I can’t pretend I’m not upset by it all, but I finally am at a point where I can truly say I did everything I possibly could. I will be able to go to sleep tonight and every night knowing I never closed the door on my father, though I likely should have. At the end of the day I was able to say goodbye on my own terms, something that feels as close to satisfaction regarding the matter that I may ever get.

A Legend Passes

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

*This image is not my property or my design. All credit goes to the originator.*

Today is a hard day for nerds the world over, to be certain. Last night we got the news that the one and only James Earl Jones passed into the great beyond. It took me a bit to really process that information. This man has made impressions on so many humans across the span of the last 9 decades it’s not even possible to fathom. Looking back over my own life, there are fingerprints of his influence in every single stage of my development as a human, a nerd, an educator, and more. Jones has done so many phenomenal things, and lent his voice to two of the greatest characters in cinematic history. In this instance I’m talking not only about Darth Vader, but also the mighty king Mufasa.

I can remember from the earliest days of my childhood being wildly obsessed with the Lion King. I had posters, books, toys, a birthday cake, an entire dish set (out of which I still have the bowl) and even cassette tapes of the soundtrack – complete with James Earl Jones voice tracks. To this day I am still wildly in love with the story and message behind this film, not in small part because of the power James Earl Jones instilled through his performance.

To mention the Lion King, I also have to mention The Sandlot. Although his part was small it was still huge. Portraying a figure of startling demeanor but admirable kindness, James Earl Jones yet again was a huge part of my life in this film. Being one of my comfort films growing up, I couldn’t count the times I watched this movie alongside my mother and even my grandmother.

There is no way to ever quantify, in all of the ways I can possibly discuss it, just how much Star Wars means to me, though. I knew of the films and of Jones’s voice in the part of Lord Vader long before I watched the movies, but my first encounter with the films was in 7th grade. I had an art teacher who let me borrow her anniversary edition VHS tapes and I huddled up in my room that weekend and devoured them. Never had I seen anything so visually and mentally stunning. References that I had heard (some of which I knew already) made sense. The culture, the worlds, the LIFE inside of this universe awakened me to even bigger fandoms and more nerdy tendencies than I had ever envisioned. Keep in mind, by this time I was already obsessed with both Wolverine and Spiderman as well as The Lord of the Rings, but this was a presence like nothing I could remember.

Hearing James Earl Jones as Darth Vader, striking down the rebel forces and throwing his weight around with the force was nothing short of astounding. Granted, I know the figure inside that cloak was David Prowse, and I wouldn’t dream of taking the magnitude of that away from him, but the voice of Vader is the thing that has always made me mesmerized by the character. As someone who loves music and sounds, the baritone rumble of that powerful Sith remains to this day one of the most thrilling things to hear throughout these films for me.

I know, of course, that Jones has an abundance of other works, including one amazing film where he and Robert Duvall are half-brothers trying to make peace after a sudden death, the three I’ve mentioned are the ones where he will always live for me. I have Darth Vader figures, games, shirts, memorabilia and more, and there is nothing that will ever scream Star Wars to me as much as Darth Vader (coming out just a hair ahead of Chewy and Yoda, naturally). The world took a huge hit when we lost our Princess in 2016, but now we have also lost our deviant father. Even the Jedi mourned the loss of Vader, and I have no qualms about admitting how much it hurts to know that voice will never speak fresh words on this earth again.

To nerds everywhere, I encourage you to be openly obsessive about the things that bring you joy. Embrace the characters that make you happy. Don’t ever be ashamed of that. I’ve always loved being a nerd, and now I am more proud of that than ever. Today is a day of mourning for us all, so I say to remember the words of Mufasa and always “remember who you are.” Let us raise our lightsabers today in honor of one who paved the way for so many of us and who will NEVER be forgotten. Rest in Peace, James Earl Jones.

MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU. ALWAYS.

Thursday Morning Thoughts

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

You know, this is a good question, and not one we usually answer with the full extent of honesty. As a form of greeting, it’s so easy to ask or be asked “how are you?” and get or give the standard “good, and you?” in today’s world. But how often are our feelings so simple? We are humans with complex thoughts, complex emotions, complex lives. Can that really be summed up with a simple “good?” Not at all. To be brutally honest, that’s one of the reasons students in school right now often face such a struggle with their own emotions. They have been trained, if not forthright, then at least through observation, that emotions and thoughts should be simple to categorize and explain away. So, when they start feeling actual emotions and realize how BIG they are, it freaks them out. They have no clue how to accept the fact that everyone else can simply be “good” all the time, while they feel like entire universes worth of emotion are swirling through their every waking thought.

At some point we have to ask ourselves as both a society and a species if this “how are you” routine is more helpful or harmful. Do any of us ever actually look at someone who asks that question and say “you know, I’m having a really bad day. I’m feeling a lot of things right now and I could stand to talk it out?” Almost never. The question really has become more rhetorical and continues to move in that direction the longer we ask it with such simplicity. More often than not people ask this as a simple greeting, not expecting anything other than that standard “good,” or better yet, the sarcastic “living the dream.” It has become a social call and response that merely acts to show us that we have noticed and acknowledged one another, so now let us go on about our day without any further or deeper interaction thanks. Altering society’s problems with accepting and teaching emotions and social emotional positivity is not something that can be fixed overnight, of course, but I think we could go a long way toward repairing those broken bridges if we take the time to actually ask each other how we are – and both expect and give real, honest answers. We can’t always just be “good.” Some days we might be sleepy, maybe we’re hungry, maybe we got behind a slow driver and we’re late for work and we need a minute to vent and complain. Maybe we got some really good news on the way to work and we want to take a minute to rejoice in it. Who knows. The point is, this is a very pregnant question. If any of us care to ask and answer it honestly, that is.

But anyway, I’m good today. How are you?

Daily writing prompt
How are you feeling right now?
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Lessons from the Classroom

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

Teaching is one of the most rewarding, but also one of the most difficult professions out there. To be on the forefront of instilling education and knowledge into the minds of the future is something I, for one, do not take lightly. Now, I can’t speak for every single educator out there, of course. I have first-hand experience with some people who act like little more than warm bodies in a chair waiting on a paycheck. That is one of the first and best ways to fail children – and I don’t mean on a grade scale.

Working with students is a never-ending responsibility, that much is certain, but there are an endless supply of benefits in the profession regardless of how hard it can be. Growing up in a single parent household, I did not have a full-time male role model in my home. My grandfather stepped into this role as often as he was able, and I certainly have many life lessons from my short time with him. Likewise, men from my church were crucial parts of my life, becoming friends that I am still in contact with to this day, but that’s a different story. Teachers, however, were an example that I looked up to on a daily basis. Granted, in the early and mid-90’s when I was entering the world of public education the vast majority of teachers in Tazewell, Va. were female, by the time I made it to middle school I was happy to find myself under guided instruction of some very positive male educators. Likewise, in high school I made the acquaintance of two or three men who were essential to my education and who influenced me to consider taking on the mantle of teacher myself.

Being who I am, though, I still told myself I would do better focusing on my writing because “who would want me as a teacher, anyway?” I fought that bug for several years before listening to my wife and accepting the drive I had been putting off and seeking to finish the education path I had already started in undergrad. As you all know, I started my path as a teacher of high school English in 2020, at the height of the Covid-19 epidemic. During that time I met several students who would show me how wrong I had been.

Coming to my students in an impoverished area, many of whom did not have a positive male role model at home, I saw myself in their eyes a lot. Some of them, naturally, were a bit apprehensive coming into my classroom. In this region if a student makes it to high school not liking to read, English classes are something of a sore subject for them. However, I was able to show many of them a type of literature that they did actually enjoy. By taking the time to speak to my students and get to know them, I was able to show them there is more to English and Language Arts than writing essays and reading giant British Literature novels. There is a whirlwind of education floating in the ether and, by approaching students at a level of respect and understanding, I taught them an appreciation for, if not exactly a love of, literature. More importantly, though, I showed them there is someone who cares about them.

That, to me, is the most important lesson a teacher can impart to a student, regardless of what subject they teach. Life lessons of love and appreciation, just knowing they can come into the building and have someone genuinely care whether they got a good night’s sleep or ate breakfast can make or break the day. Many of my students from my first teaching job have gone on to graduate and start families now, and I am still in touch with some of them. Knowing the things I heard some of these students being told – that they could never graduate, they wouldn’t make it in the real world, they would be better off getting a GED (and worse) – makes me disgusted. Yes, I know what you are thinking. “Did those things come from educators, from school staff, from people those students should have been able to trust?”

The answer is yes. And it is pathetic. For a student fighting to make it in this weird world life is hard enough without having someone they should be able to trust constantly beating them down. I am now in the first year working at a new school, in a new county, and it is honestly like night and day. The staff here truly cares about the students. These kids might not get the support they need at home, and they might not have expectations of getting that support at school, but I do my best to make sure they have it here. Some days, being a teacher is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but the rewards so far outweigh that struggle it’s not even comparable. Knowing a student will come into my classroom and get a smile, have a kind word, and hopefully figure out there is more out there than what they’ve dealt with so far is a lesson I couldn’t have learned if I had continued to deny my own voice.

The biggest point here, really, is simple. Kids need you. If you are considering going into education, make sure you are listening to that urge. If you are a first year teacher worrying about whether or not you can do it, whether or not you will do a good enough job – you will. The fact that you care shows you have the heart for it. If you are a teacher experiencing burnout, listen to that inner voice, but also remember all the good you have done. Students are alive and well today, excelling through this world, because of the influence you had on them. That is a lot to be thankful for. In my experience, it is the student who doesn’t realize how much they need a teacher that will gain the most from a positive one. Some days may look dark, but the real light comes from knowing you made a difference. I thank God for putting me a situation where I can do just that.

Anchoring in Hope

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

One of the hardest things about a tired morning, especially a tired Monday, is maintaining (or even finding at all) a positive outlook on the day. We all know the weekends are never long enough and the idea of a 40+ hour work week seems longest after we crawl out of bed on that first day. Granted, I won’t for a minute pretend that I’m not a morning person, as my wife will sleepily remind me of as I’m chattering away ere the sun deigns to show his fiery face over our lovely mountains. I also might point out that I tend to be even more of a night owl, with the occasional bout of mid-afternoon lethargy, but that’s a whole different story. This morning was no different.

On this incredible Monday morning I found myself waking up to a few images from my cover designer (the ever incredible Mollie Estep) for the upcoming Blood and Moonlight, and looking forward to the prospect of my second full week in the return to teaching high school English. With the plan to decorate my classroom with some old and new items as well as introduce some of my students to the dark and twisted works of Edgar Allan Poe, I was feeling pretty darn good. I realized last night while preparing for the week that, for the first time in a long time, I was not feeling any of the dread or questioning that had followed the last year and a half or more of my previous teaching job. I loved the students I worked with at that school, and the difference I made in their lives is something I am so thankful for I can’t put it into words. There were, as always, underlying factors, however.

With the job I have just started, my (hopefully) triumphant return to the world of secondary education, I feel a new and powerful positivity. I feel almost certain that I am in the right place. I love feeling that way with a job or with any task I am working on. It makes it that much easier to put your all into something you feel RIGHT about, doesn’t it? That’s kind of where my mind was as I rode the beautiful, rain-damp roads into Wise this morning, my current audiobook humming right along. I felt good. Right. As the drive went on, carrying me closer to my current home away from home, my eyes looked to the right of my vehicle, almost unguided. There, less than a mile away from me, I saw the absolutely stunning sight of an early morning rainbow. I hadn’t realized while I was driving that in the valley ahead of me, which I was about to drive into, was experiencing a rain shower. All around me the sun was beaming down on the world in wonder and magnificence, and to my right glimmered this incredible symbol of hope, meaning, and love. It couldn’t have been a better sign for me.

If you’ve been around for a while, you know I’m a big believer in signs and guidance from God and the universe. I give all credit to God for my gifts and talents as a writer and a teacher, and I can’t express enough just how thankful I am to have the blessing to be able to do these things with my life. Seeing that rainbow this morning made an incredible peace come over me and reminded me again that I am on the right path. Sometimes we all need that reminder. I’ve been hard on myself lately about how little I have been able to write this year and how some things haven’t gone the way I planned. But that’s life. I’ve always heard if you want to hear God laugh, tell Him your plans. Whether you are a believer in God or not, one thing we can all relate to is that the universe is not always one to fall in line with our intentions. Regardless of what purpose we have behind our motivations and hopes and dreams, sometimes it just doesn’t happen. And there is nothing wrong with that.

As soon as I was able to come to a quick stop I snapped a photo of the now-fading rainbow as a reminder of the powerful feelings in my mind. I’m keeping that rainbow with me this morning as I ponder over all the things that have gone not exactly according to plan to put me right where I am today. Between job changes, family issues, even changes in my education plan, things have not stayed the way I had them mapped out in my mind for quite some time now. But I have been blessed beyond measure. I have my best friend by my side every day of my life, and I could not be more thankful for the experiences we have shared – even if they have been surprises to us both at the time. Looking at all of that, and looking at the hopeful plans I have for the rest of the year I can’t help but keep thinking of that rainbow. That promise. That image that holds so much meaning and so much love for so many people around the world. In my heart and my mind, that sight always tells me I’m going to be OK. No matter what is thrown at me, no matter how hard some days may be, if I keep that image of hope and love in mind everything will be fine. I think that’s why the rainbow means so much to so many people, as well. The merging and unification of so many colors in the spectrum, so many things that nature combines so perfectly, is intended to remind us that it’s OK. Whatever is going on, it isn’t going to hold us back or hold us up forever.

What I’m trying to say with all of this is that we all need our rainbow. Whether we’re feeling positive or negative about whatever situation we’re in, we need something to remind us that good is coming or that it is OK to allow ourselves to be happy. That’s something that sometimes seems hardest of all, I think. With the amount of things that go wrong every day, with all of the trauma we all have seen or been through, the idea that it is OK to be happy can be hardest to grasp. Take it from someone who has struggled to find that permission within himself on and off for decades. Whatever is going on and whatever you have been through, it really is OK to be happy. It’s OK to have hope. Find your rainbow today, whatever it is. The world isn’t always a horrible place. I hope this message can reach someone who needs it, whether it’s today or 100 years in the future. The point remains the same for me. You matter. You are allowed to feel what you feel. And you CAN make it through the hard times. The sun will always come back out eventually.

Who Do You Need?

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

Greetings and happy 2024, everyone! It has been a bit since I’ve been able to buckle myself to the keyboard and hash out a nice post to greet you all with. Partly, of course, that is due to my grad school work, and a lot of it is to do with my own mental health and just general level of business. This year, however, has started strong, and great things are coming. I declare it.

The important message on my mind today, which has been there for several days, comes from the mind of Wil Wheaton. While I was working on my thesis prep last week, I decided to tune into an episode of The Friendship Onion rather than music, and happened upon the episode with Wil as a guest. Of course, the whole episode was a lovely nerd fest that made my nerdy heart happy, but toward the end Wil said something that honestly floored me. He talked on and off about the trauma in his life and what it led him to, and Dominic Monaghan eventually thanked him for being such a passionate and enthusiastic human. Wil’s response:

“I work, on purpose, to be the person I need most in the world.”

That quote blew me away. I try to live my life with an understanding that there are billions of people on this ball of rock, and everyone’s life is different. I’m generally a good, happy guy, and I live by rule number one, which is essentially; Don’t be a Dick. Simple, understandable, easy to do. There is absolutely no reason to walk into the world and treat anyone negatively. I get that we all have bad days, but frankly, that’s no excuse to be a jerk. Everyone you encounter is living a life that is so similar, yet so uniquely different from your own, that there is no reason to bring them down.

Wil’s assertion that he makes a conscious decision to be a good, enthusiastic, big person brings me so much joy and so much thought, because it opened an entirely new world of possibilities to me. Life is literally a series of choices, decisions, and actions all based on the things going on in your own head. From the moment you wake up in the morning you have the ultimate power to be the human who can make all the positive difference in someone else’s life. That is the message that holds the most power to me. From the second your eyes open in the morning, the power of choice is with you, and your presence in the world is so heavily influenced by your internal understanding of that. You can choose to walk out into the world and be a positive and uplifting person, or you can bring negativity and anger into the world.

Frankly, the fact that there are people in the world who make the choice to bring others down with their negative garbage is one of the worst things I have ever had to understand. Granted, I have been in a negative mindset before, and I’m sure there have been days where I have not been a positive force for someone out there. For that, I am endlessly apologetic. Looking into my life from a new perspective with the real reminder that we all have the power to make the world a better place makes a big difference to me. Like Wheaton said, we each should work on purpose to be the type of person we need in the world.

Coming from a background that does contain trauma, with a life that has been touched and affected by depression and anxiety, I can tell you first hand that the way people around you act and behave toward you does have a very heavy effect on your mindset. Think about that, guys. Approaching someone, especially a stranger, knowing little to nothing about what they are already going through, but hitting them with anger and negativity is a harsh and irresponsible action like no other. Why should anyone feel like they have to right to bring someone else down? Should we, as a species, not feel like we have a responsibility to make the world a better place? Should we not make an active effort to help and bring our fellow man up, not tear them down?

That is the challenge I want to issue to everyone today. From the moment you wake up in the morning, think about the way you are going to approach the world. Think very presently and thoroughly about the type of person you want to be in the world. Do you really want to be responsible for making someone else’s life worse? If you do, then allow me to be the first to publicly tell you that you suck. Truly. You deserve to stub your pinky toe every single time you walk for the rest of your life. Just endless pinky toe pain. I lay that curse on you now.

But really, everyone, think about it. It’s a true and honest life-changer. Just be intentional. We all know there are bad days, and there are good days, but the thing that really needs to be considered is just how much good you can spread in spite of that. I’m not saying be fake. Don’t get me wrong. All I am saying is that we have the chance to make sure our own bad days do not make anyone else’s worse. If we can make the real decision to help make sure someone else does not have a bad day just because we are having one, just think about the difference that can make. For that matter, think about the kind of power we have to influence positivity on a good day!

In essence, friends, just be a good human. It is all about making conscious decisions to not harm others, whether that be physical or mental, and bringing more happiness into the world than we take away from it. What are your thoughts on that? Can you think of a time when you made a conscious decision to bring positivity into the world, despite having a bad day? Or maybe a time when you did the opposite? Feel free to share those thoughts and experiences. In the meantime, keep up with your creative endeavors and follow me on social media to stay up to date on mine. I am working to build my events list for the year, and I have a few lined up already, so head over to my event page to check them out. I look forward to interacting with everyone!

It’s Never Too Late

/ Damean Mathews, Author / 1 Comment

As another school year winds to a close, another birthday passes, and May looms ahead on the road of life, I have to say things have been quite a whirlwind already this year. I managed to finish one novel, some poems, a couple short stories, and got tons more ideas. I have gotten several wonderful local opportunities, including being the first author featured in a local art gallery (St. Paul Va Small Art Gallery in St. Paul, Va), and I feel truly humbled by the immense support I’ve gotten from those who follow my writing and photography. On top of that, I have the undying support of my amazing wife, and we have gotten to go on several adventures this year that we will never forget. In all, life is good. The positive definitely outweighs the negative, and I thank God for that every day. It is because of His blessings I have the talents and passions that I do. I am incredibly thankful for everything I have and I want to make the most of these chances.

In light of that, I have to admit there is one area of my life I have long wanted to improve, to grow. My college experience is something that holds a huge place in the journey of making the man I am today. It was there I met my wife, where I first got to work in journalism and the creative arts for a meaningful production. But something still felt incomplete. I completed my Bachelor of Arts program nearly ten years ago and I have had a wealth of career opportunities based on it, but I also have a strong desire to do more. My love of the written word goes deeper than I can even explain without ranting for hours on end. My dive into literature was the deepest it has ever been during my undergrad experience, leading me to have a paper included in the COPLAC undergrad research conference in 2013. That feeling was always exhilerating and after graduating I have wanted to experience that deep educational dive again. It’s easy to say it was high school that helped me narrow my focus to literature, but it was college where I feel that love blossomed to a never-ending obsession. Because of that I have always felt a desire to teach at a college level and be involved in higher education. In short, I have always regretted not going on to get my Master’s Degree.

I’m proud to say I no longer have to feel that regret. As of April 26, the day after my 32nd birthday, I have officially been accepted into a graduate program at Liberty University. I will be completing a Master of Arts in English Literature through an online program, and I could not be more excited. I could also not be more nervous. Short of a few continuing education classes to maintain certification to teach high school, I have not been on the recieving end of formal education for nearly a decade, so the idea is a little daunting. Regardless, this is a venture I have been wanting to take for a long time, and I finally kicked myself into gear and got it going. I am beyond excited for this and I can’t wait to see how it goes.

In addition to furthering my education I am still working endlessly on spreading my name and my art far and wide both in the Appalachian region and beyond. I have recently grown to more than 610 likes on my Facebook author page and had a fun giveaway opportunity there and I am ever growing in my viewership on TikTok and other apps. To say I am blessed to be given this platform and my talents and passions is an understatement. I offer another huge thank you to everyone who supports and encourages me in all of my adventures, from education to beyond. The underlying message behind all of this is simple, and one that we might hear a lot but not always listen to. It is never too late. I’ve been out of school for nearly ten years and I’m going back. I come from an impoverished region where many of the people I have known are either in the grips of addiction or know people who are, and I rose above. There is no obstacle too big, no desire too great, no end too impossible for you to overcome. Especially with prayer and God on your side. I fully respect everyone’s right to a religion, or a lack of one, but that is my own experience talking. I rely on God, I’m thankful to God for all I have, and I feel like that is the right journey for me. Overall, I must press the fact that if you have a desire (as long as it is a good desire, and not one to harm yourself or others -i.e. Asimov rule one) you should chase it. Dreams are powerful, and we have them for a reason. No one is exempt from that. Walt Disney said “If you can dream it you can do it,” but I think no one says it better than Dr. Frank N Furter:

“Don’t Dream It, Be It”

New Ventures, New Work, Small Businesses

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

Greetings, everyone! 2023 has been moving right along with crazy speed so far. I can hardly believe we are almost into the month of April already, but that means it is that much closer to warmer weather, longer days, and the blissful peace of summer vacation. At least in my neck of the woods.

This year has brought with it some insane tales of unidentified flying objects being shot down, wild chemical spills, and even more uncouth behavior from the general public, but it has also offered some awesome opportunities for those artists and small business owners who so deserve more attention.

Last month my wife and I attended a dinner at a locally franchised business that made us absolutely ecststatic. Not only was the dinner at Moe’s at the Pinnacle in Bristol,Tn. ( go there immediately!!) amazing, but the community that came together there was astounding. Another local business owner ( from Abingdon Gifting Co. ) invited several people from the community to come join her for dinner to help support Moe’s and bring attention to a great locally owned business.

As an author, photographer, entreprenuer myself, it was incredible to see the community coming together to support a local business owner. My wife and I were humbled to see the restaurant literally packed out with people wanting to support local. More than 3 dozen people attended the dinner, and many plan to make the local support a regular occurence. This thrills me.

I have always loved being able to reach out and help my business minded community members, and I’ve worked with tons of small businesses to house my books as well. It is always a pleasure to work with and support these small businesses, and I encourage each and every one of you all to do the same. Small business is the life blood of American creativity and freedom, in all honesty. Many of the huge chains and franchises we now know and love exist because people supported a local business at one point or another and allowed them the ability to succeed and expand.

I love working with local businesses and I would love to work with as many as I possibly can, so if you own, work in, or know of a business who has interest working with a self-made Appalachian author and photographer, by all means reach out to me or to them and make a recommendation.

That being said, I am thrilled to be able to share with you all some news about my work that makes me ecstatic. I have recently started working to sell my photography! I have created a page on my site here to advertise my work, and I am hoping to get some pieces into local businesses as well. If you are interested in Appalachian or Travel photography, check out the page and let me know if any of my pieces interest you.

In addition to this, I have some gallery appearances at the Small Art Gallery in St. Paul, VA. this year that promise to be hugely fun! My books will be the showcase of the exhibit this April (~April 1-May 15) and my photos will be the feature in November/December (~November/15-December/31). To get a consistent schedule of the gallery’s 2023 exhibits check out their info here.

I’ll bore you all with only one final bit of news in today’s post. I have finished the second novel in my Shadow Slayer Saga, Darkness Awakens, and have started work on a novel that will be of great interest to my Appalachian friends. This tale is going to dig deep into mountain culture and feature one of the more interesting bits of local folklore (and that is saying a lot!), so keep your eyes open for more information about it. I’ve also been working on some short stories and poems again lately, so my creative heart is pounding away like crazy!

Thank you all for checking out what I had to say today, and I’ll leave you with this reminder. Small businesses absolutely deserve our support. Make sure you do what you can to buy and shop local, everyone. It can make differences you can’t even imagine. As always, I welcome comments, questions, concerns, and communication. My novels are available worldwide and in multiple formats (including most libraries or digital library apps), so I hope you will all take the time to read and review them and make this author’s day! Enjoy your art, and enjoy your lives, everyone!