Teaching

The Toxic Goths and Wuthering Heights

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

I will be the first to admit that it is a bit of a shame that I was in my 30s before I really sat down to read the epic that is Wuthering Heights. I have long been obsessed with period literature and, of course, I have done extensive work in the era of Gothic literature of all kinds. This is one that, somehow, repeatedly slipped out of my grasp, though.

With the upcoming release of the newest cinematic version of the film in all it’s Hollywood hyper-sexed looking glory, I felt it was high time to rectify that mistake. I have owned a copy of the book for a while, discovered sometime last year (or earlier) in my thrifting missions, so I dug it out and dove in around the first of the month.

I was immediately drawn in by Bronte’s writing, the dark moors and the brusque mannerisms of our good master Heathcliff bringing me immediately into the fold. Not knowing fully what to expect, the reading went fairly quickly, but I want to be very up front in saying that I found it very difficult to like … well … pretty much anyone.

From Catherine’s ever-eager and dismissively bratty nature, to Heathcliff’s very embodiment of toxic masculinity and downright brutish human evil, there was no one I could root for here. The love itself that both of them felt was one of the most powerful of literary sentiments I have read in quite some time, of course. Bronte did an amazing job of putting two unlikeable people into a situation where neither of them could win for causing each other, and themselves, to lose. Catherine’s affirmation that she could not exist without Healthcliff, despite his brutish nature and his downright blatant insistence that his own pride was more important than being there with and for her for years is intense, but also shows a lot of what is wrong with the classic literary depiction of love.

All too often in books (as well as films and, let’s face it, life itself) our female lead is drawn into a sort of infatuation with a person who is simply garbage. Why it becomes a sort of romantic rampart that women (or anyone) should cast themselves upon the blade of someone who treats them horribly, I can not fathom. It is not a good quality in a lover or a significant other that every time you speak to them it becomes a fight where you grow so faint your heart threatens to stop. Yet, time and time again, this is the standard literary love is held to. Why?

To turn in a different direction before this post takes on a life of its own filled with lectures no one wants, let me jump into Bronte’s language. It was, of course, nearly 200 years ago, but one thing that did throw me off was her repeated leaps into Joseph’s brogue. Vernacular is wonderful, and it should be held to a high standard in writing, but it does not have to be done quite to that extent. As I said, I know it was 200 years ago, but that is something that pulled from the story a lot. Any time there was an extended bit of dialogue from Joseph, or, rather, Ellen’s repetition of it, the use of heavy vernacular and nearly unintelligible language on the page made me pause several times to work out what was being said. Could it have been any different for readers when the book was fresh?

As I said, vernacular is incredibly important, and I use it myself. I understand how nice it is for readers of Southern literature to recognize a nice twang on the page, or for a Cockney reader to recognize their own twists of phrase, but for entire paragraphs to look so out of place? It was a certain grounder for me.

The story itself, coming to us in the form of a relay from our narrator who had it in turn relayed to him from someone who lived it or read it, was honestly like a bit of a telephone game. In its own right, that puts me in the mind of a bit of a potential unreliable narrator. I am a bit of a sucker for an unreliable narrator, as many of you know, so I do eat that up. With Lockwood admitting that he was feverish during much of the retelling (as well as the general malaise of being in a strange house during a winter storm in his initial “supernatural” encounter with Catherine), there is much to be said about the entire story being false or blown out of proportion. I am aware that, of course, would likely not be much of a popular opinion given the historic love of the book, but the idea that this man had a polite old housemaid telling him a story of her former masters – or even a story that she herself makes up to calm a sick man – and he blew it even further out of proportion in his retelling makes me absolutely salivate to think of.

Heathcliff. There is so much I can say about the man whom this book centers around. From a wayward youth who never quite fits in, to a man who does his best to seem the devil’s own plaything in adulthood, he oozes toxic behavior. I would say toxic masculinity, but I don’t think even Heathcliff fits quite that pathetic of a bill. He has a huge chip on his shoulder through most of the book, being more than willing to spite anyone and everyone, including his beloved Catherine, no matter what they are doing or saying to or about him. No one is good enough for him, because they make him feel he is not good enough for them more often than not. Granted, this does not excuse his behavior in any way. For, if nothing else, being treated poorly by others should show him exactly how NOT to act, but I digress.

As I said earlier, even his precious Cathy is not free from the evil Heathcliff works in the world, from his abandonment of her, to his overbearing weight of hatred that comes to Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange on his mysterious return. Heathcliff is not necessarily deserving of the pain and mistreatment he is given as a lad, but he absolutely deserves every ounce of pain and punishment rendered him as an adult. To his treatment of Cathy even on her deathbed, to the way he mistreats Isabella (not even mentioning the underlying insinuations of SA and who knows what other abuse she suffers at his hand before her escape), and the way he treats every single young person in the book, he is simply an asshole. Plain and simple. King jerk of the world of jerks. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy him. He has his moments, not withstanding. Specifically his unknown background and the fact that he does somehow feel Catherine’s spirit close to him after her death. From wandering on the moors, to frequenting graveyards at night, there are redeeming elements of creep factor that I do appreciate.

Jumping on to the discussion of Catherine herself, the fact that her love was not strong enough for her to stand up for Heathcliff as a child. Or wait for him. Or look for him. Or ask her husband not to be an ass to him. Or any of the other things she could have done that might also have altered the evil man’s own reaction to the world and the people around him… it was somehow strong enough that she haunted his every moment and made him all the more miserable and sanctimonious after her death – even seemingly showing up to visually haunt him on his last day. She herself was always the prissy, bratty, horrible example of a spoiled child who refuses to budge for the world, but expects the world to bend and break for her, so it is no wonder she got her just desserts. I feel no sympathy for her, frankly.

Finally, coming full circle, the main thing I want to say is that I did enjoy the book. Despite my misgivings of the characters, the hyped up love, the disgusting character development and the painful language… It’s a book I will likely read again. While, I recognize that most high school readers would likely care nothing for the book, I do hope that I can fit it into a college course on Gothic Literature one day. Overall, the book stands the test of time in many ways, and is definitely deserving of study. I don’t know that I agree with the claims that it depicts the love story that all other love stories should be built from, but I can respect the care Heathcliff and Cathy had for each other. Maybe they just needed someone to tell them how to show it.

A Year After Knowing

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

It’s odd, writing this blog post, to be honest. Through most of my life, I spent more time than I should wondering about my biological dad. Where is he? What is he doing? Does he think about me? Does it even matter? Then, a little over a year ago, I got a message from a cousin that he was dead. No more chances at reconnecting. No more half-assed excuses on the off chance I did get up with him. No more confusion about whether the numbers or addresses I had were no longer valid or if I was being ignored. In essence, if he was in the ground, at least I knew where he was.

That’s a harsh reality, sure, but from a man who had never had the security of knowing where one half of his biological makeup was, it did bring me some sick comfort. I would never again have to look at a passing car and wonder if HE was in it. Never again get a hang-up call and wonder if my answers were on the other end.

What has replaced those curiosities, however, is a certainty that I won’t get those answers. My biological grandmother and uncle have made no efforts to reach out to me since the funeral I attended (where one wasn’t in attendance and one had to look at the guest book to even know who I was). Not that I really expected to hear anything.

Sure, in a perfect world, there would have been some letter he never sent, or some journal entry that talked about the choices he made. Maybe he had some explanation that was supposed to be sent to me after his death. But, no. This isn’t a spy movie. He wasn’t a man who explained himself. He was just… a bad person.

I don’t know that he stole, or murdered, or did anything we usually think classifies someone as a bad person. Nothing like that. But, I do know what he did. He lied to his child, abandoned his child. Handed over the reins to a single mother who did her best, as best she could, at least. But, as an adult, a teacher, a grown man who understands responsibilities and mental health, I can safely say he was not a good man. The choices he made may have been what he, in some way, thought to be best, and maybe they were. I have heard from more than one person with knowledge of that side of my family tree that him being a part of my life would almost certainly have prevented me from being a successful human. Maybe that is the case. I don’t know.

What I do know is what it taught me. There is never an excuse for making a child think they have done something to push you away. There is no reason good enough to choose to leave behind a kid who knows no better than to rely on you, to trust you. Disappearing from someone’s life may seem like a valid option to an extremely selfish person, but that only shows how truly self-centered you are. No matter the cause, no matter the outcome, responsibilities run deeper than that for a truly good person.

I think that is one reason I strive so hard to show my students that I am there for them. I teach in a region where poverty is the norm, where single-parent households are increasingly more common, and where some people do not know their parents at all. Because of this, I make it a point to be reliable. Whether that is through grading, lessons, or being there to listen when they are having a bad day. No student leaves my classroom thinking they are unimportant if I am doing my job right.

Should my wife and I have children, the same will go for them. No matter the lack of closure, the lack of “this is how you do things” type lessons I got from my biological dad, no matter the one-sided nature of my female-centered upbringing, I know how to be different. Scotty taught me, through omission, the exact way to be sure no child I have will feel like I did.

When I started my teaching journey almost 6 years ago, I knew the first thing I needed to do was work on those elements of trust and care. Now, teaching at my Alma Mater, I can remember (and actually work with) some of the teachers who showed me that same respect and care. It makes a difference. A year after realizing I will never know why Scotty made the decisions he did, I feel all the more confident in being the person I am. I feel I have made the right choice in building those elements of care and trust with my wife, my friends, my students, my coworkers, anyone who may need to know – even just for one day or just one minute – that they are not alone.

That’s what it all comes down to, right? No matter who we are, what we are going through, everything seems like it is just a little more bearable if we know we aren’t alone. That’s why I’m here. And I always will be for anyone who needs me.

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.

Stephen King’s Rage

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

As a lifelong fan of Stephen King, it is my mission to read everything the man has published, naturally. I’ve been on that track for quite a while, but the main book that has eluded me for much of that time is the one book King himself doesn’t want the world to experience. Given today’s climate and the subject of the book itself I had been understanding of that idea, since he is (some would say ironically) a huge supporter of human rights and simply being a good person. I still have not been able to purchase a copy of this book for myself, but I did get my hands on a copy so I could finally read the forbidden tale, and I have to say…. I think the world deserves to read it.

Woah, a teacher not wanting to see a book that, at it’s base description, is about a school shooting taken off the shelf? Polarizing, right? Keep in mind, also, that I am an author and a literature lover who has an extreme hatred of censorship as a whole, but kind of. Like I said, at its base description, Rage is about a school shooting. More specifically, about the shooter himself. But there is so much more to it than that.

Charlie Decker reacts to life the way he has, in part, because he has been consistently let down and crapped on by everyone he is supposed to be able to rely on. Being a teacher at two different alternative education centers I have seen this phenomenon more than I ever thought possible in such a small community. More often than not kids are being let down by everyone they know. They are being abused, disrespected, and not being given the love and guidance that is a parent’s obligation. Which is exactly what Charlie Decker dealt with.

While Decker did have his moments of abuse and neglect, he was also very obviously suffering from not only the social pressures of being a teenager, but I heartily believe he was suffering from mental illness as well. Charlie kills two teachers in the school a couple of weeks after striking another with a wrench, causing him considerable damage. There is no doubt he was a school shooter, and before the term was used in conventional conversation. His crimes, however, were small in comparison to even some of the smallest of real world attacks in this country. So how does that influence, or even potentially motivate others to take up the gun? During the late 80’s and 90’s there were multiple students who acted on feelings of anger and hatred and performed atrocious acts of school violence that were either openly attributed to the reading of King’s book or associated with it through mere familiarity.

I can completely understand being an author who has to deal with that and having to make the difficult decision to pull your work because of it. I fully support King’s decision to remove his book based on the idea that it was harmful to others, if only because it was associated with those who made poor decisions based on their own hurt. One of the bigger things in the book that I noticed, however, was the deeper meaning I associated with it. That, of course, is one of my favorite things about literature. We can all read the same words, but they speak to us all differently. The individual interpretation of works of art can not only be different from person to person, but one person going back to a familiar work might resonate with it differently based on maturity and changes of life and attitude. I can’t honestly say what I would have thought of Rage if I had read it ten or even 20 years years ago, but I do know that now it speaks to me in a very specific way.

The book itself, to me, is not just about the fact that Charlie comes into the school with a gun and uses it. It is about the fact that he poses no real threat to his classmates. He sits down and speaks to them. What’s more – they listen. Each and every student in that room understands Charlie – save one, of course. Decker is a boy who has been dealt a crappy hand, and he doesn’t make great choices. But he is real. He is relatable. Once he sits down and really levels with his classmates many of them open back up in the same way. We learn that all of their lives are not only connected, but that many of them have judged or been judged by their peers based on public or personal opinion. Several of them discuss their own hardships and come to understand Charlie’s point of view and why he has done what he has done. If they can’t agree with his decision to shoot their teachers they can at least see that he has enough hardship in life that it has taken him through avenues that are not totally unfamiliar to them.

I think that is the most important thing to look at for this book. These students bonded with the shooter in their midst because each and every one of them have been through some of the same horrible situations. It goes to show that everyone in the book itself is an example of how we can all react differently to any stimulus. That, in my opinion, is the real genius of the book. King presented us with a story that, yes, can be taken as offensive due to Charlie’s actions. But what book can’t? King has been through an extensive list of people, creatures, dimensions, and aliens intelligences that have massacred people in enough ways to supply the writers of even Game of Thrones with some new ideas, and we still return to his work. Because he gets it. He’s real. he gives us the honest truth about the world and the crappy humans that inhabit it.

Like I said, I respect his decision to want Rage off the shelves. No creator wants to think of their work contributing in any way to something and horrendous as an act of domestic terrorism and violence. But the strength and openness in the book are among the best pieces of helpful literature I’ve seen in a long time. As a review, I have to say that I highly recommend the book. Charlie Decker is to the world of the misunderstood and abused what Holden Caulfield is to the disenfranchised youth of the world. Any student familiar with the feelings of anger and neglect associated with an abusive, addicted, or absent parental figure can gain some real insight on how not to act based on Charlie’s tale. Until the world, this country in particular, comes to the realization that violence is not the solution to their problems, I think books like Rage both do and do not have a place in popular culture. Think of it like Schrodinger’s cat. A kid who never opens that book might still walk into the school with a gun and do horrible things. But the student who reads the book and truly makes an effort to understand it may have a chance to think about his or her actions a little longer. They could see the results of Charlie’s ordeal and understand they just have to hold on a little longer, just power through for a little more time. It could be the difference in another act of violence, or a true act of peace and restraint based on knowledge.

“Peace sells, but who’s buyin’?” -Megadeth

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.

Loss, Appreciation, and Thanks

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

Today’s post is one I have simultaneously contemplated and avoided for over a week. Often we take things in life for granted without even realizing we are doing so and, when faced with that realization, it can be a hard pill to swallow. Likewise, we may not always recognize just how much someone is in our corner, rooting for us and cheering us on. We might appreciate their friendship and support, but the real effort behind those actions may not always be clear. In short, we might not even realize just how much someone means to us until we don’t really have an opportunity to tell them.

Last Monday I got word that a dear friend and lifelong mentor of mine passed away. Jereial Fletcher, a professor at Southwest Virginia Community College, where I started my college career, passed suddenly after some health issues. Jereial was first my mother’s college professor in the early 90’s. I met him as a young kid and we became pretty fast friends even at that point. As I went into high school and began considering college and life after public education, he was more than willing to discuss options with me. Once I started at SWCC, Jereial was always there to help with any issues I had on campus and, often, opened his office just to have a chat if I wanted. He made sure I had every resource I could possibly need available to me, and often encouraged me to go above and beyond my own scope of ideas. I honestly can’t even remember who my actual college advisor was there, because I just went to Fletcher for everything I needed, every question I had.

My first short story publication, “The End,” was possible in large part because he encouraged me to submit my material to the college’s literary journal. I work-studied in the library and continued to write and do research into subjects that interested me because I had the undying support of my family, and my professor. This led to another friendship that I hold very dear to this day. My boss at the library, Teresa Yearout. Teresa and Jereial were very good friends and always remained in my corner, encouraging and supporting me more than I was even able to comprehend at the time.

Both of these amazing people were on the board in charge of setting up the Appalachian Heritage Writers Symposium in the years it ran, and both encouraged me to attend for at least 2 years before I found the courage to do so. If you’ve been with me since the beginning, you’ll know the symposium itself it what inspired me to start blogging in the first place. I had never imagined building a platform I could share my thoughts with the world, much less ever attempted to write an idea that wasn’t fiction in the hopes someone would care to read it. Once I finally agreed to be part of the symposium, Fletcher took care of the tuition, and even went out of his way to offer to let me ride with him that first year. He knew I was a bit of a socially awkward person, often preferring to be more of a wallflower than a social butterfly (don’t worry, Fletcher, other than online that hasn’t changed much) so he made sure I was comfortable mixing and mingling with the other attendees of the symposium.

I was instantly out of my comfort zone, as a 19 year old with one publication under his belt, going to workshops with dozens of people varying in age from 30-70 many of whom had been writing and publishing for years. It was Fletcher who told people who I was, pointing out my publication and telling them how talented I was as an author and a scholar. Teresa did the same thing, both of them encouraging me to speak to those individuals they felt would offer the most assistance and ideas in my interest areas. The two day symposium opened me to a world I never truly imagined was out there; a group of authors who knew each other, workshopped with each other, shared ideas and experiences. A group that I am now a member of, thanks to Fletcher’s encouragement. A fact that, sadly, I was unable to even share with him before his passing.

I continued to write and pursue creative and educational publication thanks to the support, knowledge, and encouragement of Fletcher and Teresa. Jereial remained in consistent contact with me after I graduated SWCC (Summa Cum Laude, thanks to the support I received) and went on to UVa-Wise. I continued to attend the symposium for a few more years, even teaching a workshop there in its next to last year of existence. As I pushed forward in academia and creative writing Fletcher remained a close friend and I would often send him emails or make the hour long drive from Wise to SWCC to sit in his office and vent and catch up.

The support of my friends did not end with creative writing by any means, I found out when I had a paper on “The Great Gatsby” accepted into an undergraduate conference. Jereial and Teresa met and drove together from SWCC on a Saturday morning to attend the conference, held at UVa-Wise. They were both so visibly and vocally proud of my accomplishments and made me feel incredibly successful. It’s a feeling I definitely appreciated.

When I told Jereial I wanted to become a teacher after that, he became a resource of knowledge and support once again. He gave me tips and directions aplenty, never once making me feel like any goal I wanted to reach was unattainable. His friendship and mentorship meant more to me than I honestly knew. In January of this year I received my last communication from him. His message included the surprising information that he planned to retire this year. In my response I told him that I planned to come see him in his office before he said goodbye to the college. That’s a visit I will never get to have.

Thinking back on the influence he has had on my life, from encouraging me to pursue education and writing, to steering me away from things he felt would not have benefited me in the long run, I can not be thankful enough. If not for his encouragement, I don’t know that I would have ever gotten a work published. I certainly don’t think I would now be sitting on the print collection and novel that are in publication. I can pinpoint so many areas in my life where I know the support and encouragement of Jereial Fletcher helped make me the man I am today. What hurts, what made me hesitate to even put these thoughts out to the world, is that I don’t think I ever fully expressed to him how thankful I was for it all. I don’t know that I ever told him how much it meant to me to have him in my corner, going out of his way to make sure I could be a success. My wife told me she fully believes that he knows now just what he meant to me, even if he didn’t get told in so many words before he passed, and I believe that. I hope he knew then just how much I appreciated everything he did, but I am certain he now has that knowledge.

I hope that I can be even a fraction of the amazing, supportive, influential person that Jereial Fletcher was to me and thousands of other students over his four decades of teaching. I will strive to be that kind of teacher, writer, human, and friend throughout my life, and I hope I can do Fletcher’s memory justice. I would like to extend a heart felt thank you to Jereial Fletcher for everything he did for me, every ounce of support he gave, every encouraging word. I truly feel I owe him more than I even know. And to Teresa Yearout, Gillian Huang-Tiller, Larry Hypes, and every other professor and mentor who has invested their time and friendship into me and my future – thank you so much. If you have someone who has been this kind of influence, friend, and supporter in your life, don’t waste a moment of time. Make sure you thank them for what they have done, for all they mean to you. Furthermore, if you are in a position to be this kind of mentor and friend to another person, don’t hesitate. It isn’t about getting thanks, it’s about changing lives. Don’t be afraid to go out of your way to invest in someone you feel has a talent or ability. Don’t be afraid to provide a kind word of a bit of knowledge with someone who could benefit from what you have to say. We’re all in this together, and everyone deserves to have someone in their corner. Don’t be afraid to be that someone.

Rest in Peace, Jereial. I will miss you, my friend.

If It Bleeds

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

Happy book review day, everyone! It has been a little while since I’ve gotten to dive in and review a good book, but that’s something I definitely want to do more of as the year goes on. What better way to start the reviews back up than by discussing the latest book by one of my all time favorite authors?

The latest Stephen King release If It Bleeds is a collection of four short stories in the vein of Four Past Midnight, another masterpiece if I may say so. The thing that drew me to this book most was a stand alone title story featuring our favorite semi-neurotic citizen private eye, Holly Gibney. This story, the third in the book, gives Holly the chance to lead her own investigation rather than just assist in others. Holly uncovers the truth about a villain, similar to one she has encountered before, that has been hiding in plain sight for quite some time. I really loved this story because I feel like it really gave us a chance to dive into Holly’s everyday life without Bill Hodges or Ralph Anderson or anyone else there to hold her hand or keep her in check.

I feel like King has done a fantastic job developing Holly’s character and allowing her immense growth. She still isn’t the most sure of herself at times, and she still has to struggle with some of her freedoms and every day situations, but it is a fantastic new situation for Holly. I feel like her obsessive compulsive tendencies absolutely helped her in this story, and I sort of have to commend King on that. So many times OCD and similar disorders are seen as handicaps, crutches, or hindrances, but I love stories and characters that actually use them to an advantage. I feel like Holly has absolutely been allowed to do that.

In addition to the character development, I feel like this idea was immensely original and, although it showed us a new version of a villain we’ve seen in the past, it presented a very new story. I sincerely hope King gives this particular type of villain a fuller story, with more detailed explanation of where and how he/she originates. And, yes, I am being vague on purpose. I won’t spoil too much for this story. The last thing I have to say about the title story is that it makes a lot of sense after delving into it. As a former journalist the old statement “if it bleeds, it leads” has a lot of meaning to me, and every story in this book fit the mold, this one in particular, of course.

Going back to the beginning, the story “Mr. Harrigan’s Phone” gives the feeling of familiarity to me, but still provides some originality. Presented in a marvelous bit of first-person point of view, it tells a seemingly simple story starting out. A young man who works for an elderly gentleman in the beginning of the smart-phone era helps introduce the rich mogul to the wonders of modern technology. We get a relatively innocent view of the young man’s life right up until his benefactor’s death, when the young man decides to bury the man’s phone with him. From here we get to experience something that King loves to play with; the possibility of life after death, or existence within and beyond the grave. I won’t give anything major away, but I feel like I got some Gwendy’s Button Box vibes from this story for sure. Kind of an “ask and ye shall receive” sort of mentality that sends our narrator on a mental and emotional roller coaster that is not easy for him to handle.

Some first-person stories have a feeling of strained placement and conversation, in my opinion, but I feel like King is very good at writing in that point of view. I don’t often feel like it’s difficult to stay in the mind of his characters like it can be for some stories in that POV. I enjoy the call back to a simpler time as well, as old as that makes me sound. Remembering the early days of smart phones when everyone wasn’t so used to having an information terminal in their pockets was a bit refreshing.

The second story in this book, “The Life of Chuck,” presents us with an idea that wasn’t explicitly presented up front, but one I figured out by the end of the first section of the story. As much as I want to be ambiguous about this one and not give spoilers, I am having a hard time with that. It’s so difficult not to commend King for putting such an immense view of life on paper. I, like most I assume, was very confused about the story when I first dove in. We are thrown into the tale of a man driving home from work (as a teacher of all things. My, how things come full circle.) in a sort of apocalyptic seeming world. All we know really is that there are sinkholes opening all over the city, food is scarce, transportation is a mess, communications grids are collapsing, the internet has crashed and is not having any consistent luck rebooting and similar things. Our main character first notices a strange new billboard (39 Great Years, Thanks Chuck!) on his way home, and soon starts seeing this same message everywhere, but no one he encounters seems to know who Chuck is.

The story goes on until we do meet and encounter Chuck, learning along the way a lot about the man and his tenure. I feel like the central idea here is something much deeper and philosophical than the reader may give it at face value, and I’ve come to appreciate the thought behind it, despite my initial confusion.

Finally, the last story in King’s bloody good latest masterpiece is “Rat.” This tale is pretty straightforward and resonates with me in ways that are quite appealing to the more questioning nature of my profession. Our main character for this one is an author who, despite years of trying, has only completed a few short stories, and has never been able to keep the words working for him long enough to complete a novel. This, we learn, is his greatest dream.

His own sanity, even, seems to hang in the balance at times if he can’t get at least one novel completed. As an author who often takes years to write novels, I feel that yearning in a very real way. Drew, our would-be novelist, finally gets an idea that he thinks he can truly carry through to completion and decides the best course of action is to take himself and his idea to a family cabin in the woods near the Canadian border for a few weeks, leaving his family and every day life behind.

A storm rolls through while he is there, and between that and coming down ill, Drew finds himself stuck miles from anyone who can help him with a partial novel and an unraveling idea. This fact is something that creates an anger and an almost urgent panic in Drew. While not quite to the level of Jack Torrance, it is still pretty rough going. When an almost fairy-tale encounter leaves Drew with a decision that could change his entire life, King brings the story home with a bit of horror that only the master could muster.

The situation in this story presents the reader, especially if that reader is an author who has struggled to get words from mind to matter, with a situation that gives you chills for days. I absolutely loved this one, and even though I am a huge fan of Holly Gibney’s journey and her first solo outing, I have to say “Rat” is my favorite story in this four-pack. I am also very pleased with the presence of said rat in the cover, featured above. Not my art work, just a photo of the book on my desk!

Overall, If It Bleeds is quite a good book, and well worth the read. King still has a talent few to grab my attention like few authors can. If you are interested in a good collection of short stories/novellas, I highly recommend this one. If you’re already a fan of King, this book will not disappoint, and if you’re just looking to get into his writing this is not a bad place to start. Granted, the story “If It Bleeds” may confuse you since you won’t the character histories or completely understand some of the references, but that’s a horse of a different color.

I look very forward to seeing the next King works rolling out later this year, and I will probably have to dive back into an oldie-but-goodie very soon to satiate that need for more horror! If you have any suggestions for either my book reviews, or just for me to read in general, feel free to comment or reach out! Until next time: Happy Reading!

Goodbye 2020

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

Happy New Year, everyone! 2020 is coming to a close and, as the last 8 hours or so wind down, I just want to say that I have huge hopes for 2021. This year gave us all several challenges and honestly changed the face of every day life, possibly for good. From natural disasters, to celebrity deaths, to a global pandemic, none of us could have predicted the way things would look this time last year. I hope that each and every one of you have made efforts to remain safe and healthy through the year, and that you have plenty to be proud of coming out of it.

Personally, I can easily say, despite the hardships, this year has been one of the best of my entire life. In addition to surviving such trying times, I am glad to say I am coming out of this year as a high school english teacher, a dream I have chased for quite a while. In addition to this, I have recently published my first full novel, Moonlight, which is getting great response so far. If you are interested in purchasing, it is available internationally here, and for anyone with a U.S. address who would like to purchase directly from me, you can do so here.

Most importantly for me, this year has made me the happiest man alive because this is the year I was joined with the most amazing woman in the world. Early this year I was engaged to the love of my life, and we got married over summer. Being able to call this woman my wife is one of the most satisfying blessings I have ever received. I can not thank God enough for every happiness she has brought into my life and for how amazing this year has been with her. If not for the love and support we have been able to provide one another I have no idea how this year would have turned out for me.

As we burst into the new year with high hopes and higher expectations, I just want to take the time to wish you all a fantastic 365 days. I hope everything you could want for your lives comes true and I hope you don’t lose sight of the blessings and the important things you have each and every day. As 2021 blossoms with fantastic intentions, move ahead with gusto and intention. List your priorities and your goals and strive toward them. Keep them realistic, but make sure they matter to you. Not just to your parents or to your neighbor, your grocery store clerk or your mail carrier. Make sure they matter to you and they are something you will be proud of. Every small step is a step toward a completely happy you, so make it count, guys. As always, feel free to reach out to me and give me feedback or just say hello. We’re all in this together, so we should all be more than happy to keep each other going! Have a great end of the year and don’t let anything hold you back!

Schitt’s Creek and the Message to Change the World

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

Happy November everyone! The holidays have officially begun and I hope everyone’s Halloween was awesome. The end of 2020 is surging toward us full steam now, and we can only hope 2021 will bring us a much better world.

In our search for a good laugh and a fresh artistic experience, my wife and I recently binged the series “Schitt’s Creek” on Netflix, and it was absolutely everything we needed it to be. The show, a six-season story of a wealthy family who is forced to move to a small town and basically start over from scratch after losing their fortune, has pretty much everything you could ask for. Comedy, drama, love, anger, family, friends, motivation, and heartache all have their place in Schitt’s Creek. Created by Daniel Levy, his father Eugene, and his sister Sarah, the show follows the Rose family through their struggle to restart their lives and build themselves from the ground up. Amid metric tons of character growth, realization, and relationship building, we see the Roses coming to terms with who they are and just how different their lives must be from what they have grown used to.

One thing that never failed to amaze and impress us with the show is that, despite the small town atmosphere and the polar opposite social circles the characters all come from, there is never a question of their acceptance of one another. Acceptance is a perfect word to describe this show, honestly. There are no questions of racism, discrimination, sexism or any other form of making someone feel less than. It is perfect.

Dan Levy’s David Rose, a pansexual who “is into the wine, not the label,” falls in love with a local man and runs a general store with him. Their love is on display for three seasons and no one ever questions it. Not a single resident of the town has a problem with David and Patrick’s relationship, and the entire town supports their love from the minute it blooms until the very last episode of the show.

There are people of all races, genders, and sexual orientations through the town, even in positions of authority and there is never an issue. Schitt’s Creek is a town that is open and accepting of everyone, even the socially awkward and former upper class Rose family who may not always be understanding of how things work without a lot of money, but who always end up seeing the good in their situations and neighbors.

I think that acceptance is one of the most important messages the show has to impart on its audience. I continue to use the word acceptance because it has an entirely different meaning than tolerance. I find tolerance to be a disgusting word in regards to other people. It suggests that you look at those of other genders, identities, or preferences as somehow less than yourself and, rather than accept and attempt to understand them and their lives, you ‘tolerate’ them. I find it a terrible ideation and one that should be removed from all vocabulary. Other people are not here for you to ‘tolerate.’ No one should be expected to exist under the ideals of someone else.

One of the best things about Schitt’s Creek and its marketing and subsequent fanbase is the consistent freedom and lack of judgement amongst everyone in the show. Creators, actors, characters, and fans alike love each other and that love has spread farther than even Dan Levy and his father and sister thought it would when developing the show. Coming from a small town, where many people aren’t always open-minded and accepting, I feel an overwhelming love for this show and the message it sends to this world.

We are all equal on this planet, we all deserve the freedom to be who we are, love who we want to love, and live the way we want to live. As long as the thing that makes you happy is not harmful to someone else, you should be free to do it. I will always stand in support of that. In the state of the world today I think it is very important to have such a pop culture powerhouse standing up for acceptance and freedom. I truly think this show could be vital in helping create a world like Schitt’s Creek, where people don’t have to live in fear of judgement from their peers. It may seem like a dream, but it is one I very much hope comes true.

If you haven’t watched the show, by all means, jump into it and you’ll be hooked in the first ten minutes. It is a pretty great piece of history, and I am honestly ready to watch it again. I commend the Levys and every other cast and crew member who helped make the show and its message possible – and I admire them for the incredible way they have carried the message of love and acceptance across the world since the show’s premiere. Excellent job, Dan. Your idea has truly become the perfect reality.

Summer in a New World

/ Damean Mathews, Author / 1 Comment

Hello there, everyone! I hope this fine August is treating you all well so far. The world definitely looks a lot different than it did this time last year, and for many that hasn’t been the kindest change. The virus that has plagued our planet for the last 10 or so months has certainly changed the way everyday life looks in ways we couldn’t even have predicted.

For me, since last I spoke with you all, I have lost one job due to circumstances we are all faced with, and gained another. In about a week I will be entering new territory that I’ve been preparing for my entire life. I have accepted a position as an English teacher in a neighboring county and I will be covering classes at all high school levels. This is a dream come true for me, and brings me a level of excitement I haven’t felt about my career choices in some time. The chance to impart knowledge and love of literature and the written word to future generations is something I have wanted for longer than I even remember. It’s one of the reasons I believe I was created to be a writer and the main reason I feel such a passion for the word itself. Now, that chance becomes a reality as I embark on one of the greatest work avenues I have ever had the chance to enjoy.

In addition to this, I finally have seen some breaks in the creative wall that has hindered my writing so much since we entered Plagueland 2020. I have begun work on a series of stories involving pirates, the supernatural, and world wide adventure the likes of which I’ve never encountered. I already have such a knowledge and a working love of these characters that I can’t wait to share them with you all. I have laid down a few thousand words of their tales so far, but that’s nowhere near the end. Although I have found several gaps in the writer’s block that has affected so many of us, it still hinders me often. I am working hard to shatter that wall and push forward with these works, as well as the release of my novel “Moonlight” in the very near future. I hope to have some big news on those things for you all soon!

Even more importantly, the month of July gave me the happiest day of my life when I got to marry my absolute best friend and soul mate, and the most beautiful woman in the world. After changing dates, venues, guest numbers and so much more, we finally were able to join in matrimony with a number of our closest friends and family. The ceremony was beautiful and our lives as husband and wife have been nothing short of great so far. I look very forward to a life filled with adventure and love with this incredible woman by my side.

One thing I have learned over the last handful of months is that we really should never give up. When faced with adversity we, as a species (and as creatives, who some would argue are their own separate species apart from the average Homo Sapien) must double down our effort and push forward. In many cases that is not the easiest thing to do, as we all know, but the results can often lead us to greater happiness than we even anticipated. I know many of us have felt the urge to give up as life seems to crash down around us during this pandemic, but I am here to encourage each and every one of you to carry on a little further. Keep your head up just a little longer. The hard times are not here to break us down, but to give us come calluses and show us more about how strong we are.

In light of the absolute destructive nature of this pandemic on everything we know to be “normal” I am reminded of the Japanese art of Kintsugi, which is the technique of piecing together shattered pottery pieces with lacquer infused with silver or gold. Rather than hide the cracks and imperfections in the final product, Kintsugi emphasizes them, strenghtening the bond of the broken pieces with the beautiful gold and showing that adversity did not end that work of art. We will all be faced with hard times in life, but at the end of the day what really shows who we are is how we react to these challenges. Will we lay down and give up, or stand up taller and stronger with our golden calluses shining in the sun and push forward until we meet our goals?

I think I know the path many of you will choose. Creative souls, generous souls, helpful souls do not just lay down and quit. We don’t take no for an answer. “We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams,” as the fantastic poet Arthur O’Shaughnessy said. Those who are placed here to make life better for others, whether you be artists, writers, musicians, pastors, therapists, educators, parents, or someone else who has a chance to encourage and inspire, know that challenges are things to overcome, not gates to bar you off from your path. As we approach another month of a very different world, remember that. If you’ve been knocked down by all the mess the world is in, stand up and force your way back onto your path. This isn’t the end. This is just another bend in the road.

I plan to keep writing, keep publishing, keep teaching, keep traveling, keep blogging, keep living my incredible life with my wife, and I look forward to sharing more of all this with you all. What challenges have you overcome in the midst of this different and unexpected summer? More importantly, what are you going to do to overcome those challenges? Comment away and, as always, feel free to share far and wide with anyone who may need a little boost!