The Kids Are Alwrite

Glenda and Omar (and yours truly), through the years...

I dedicated my debut novel, Exit Tickets, to my students and fellow teachers. But, as you’ll note above, I singled out two former students for my novel’s Dedication.

Both these wonderful young people, with whom I’ve kept in touch, were kind enough to write a little something for this blog.

What, might you ask, could’ve inspired Glenda and Omar, both now in their 20s, to take time out from their busy lives to tackle this final “assignment” from their former teacher? I’m sure they thought they were done with me, at least when it came to homework. Ugh...

Well, in addition to our continuing friendship, along with their names appearing on my book's Dedication page, it might’ve been the way in which I surprised them with their own personalized advance copies of my book this past August. I traveled down to meet Glenda in Philadelphia, where she now lives with her family, to catch up over a tasty dinner out at Wilder. And then later that month, I traveled up to Cooperstown, New York, where Omar and I have now met twice (Omar attends SUNY/Morrisville, not too far from the Baseball Hall of Fame), and we enjoyed a meal at the Hawkeye Grill.

So, without further ado, I’ll hand this over to my dear former students. Talk about the ultimate in exit tickets...

==========================

A Glenda Benitez Triptych

[]

Icebreaker

“We're starting off with an icebreaker I like to call Two Truths and a Lie. Has anyone heard of it?”

A mix of “yes”es and “no”s fills the air as students respond to Mr. Chanko, few with genuine excitement.

“Okay, so I'm going to write three examples up here. Two of them will be true and one will be a lie, and you guys will have to guess which one is the lie. But, before you get to guess, I want you to write down your own three examples and then we'll share them together. Feel free to work with the person next to you. I'll give you a few minutes.”

The timer begins, and a glance to my left shows my partner, Maddy, isn’t interested in talking with me, as she’s already engrossed in a conversation with the table behind us. I turn my attention to Mr. Chanko's writing on the board, waiting on his examples.

When he's done, I'm left staring incredulously. 

“Why you looking like that?” From the table to my right, Katy looks between my confused face and the writing on the board. 

“Do you really think he used to write movie reviews?” I say, eyeing Mr. Chanko.

He stands near the door, checking his watch and scanning the room. 

“You think that’s the lie? I think it's his brother falling off a roof.” 

“No way, it can really happen, that's something my brothers would do. I'm pretty sure it's his kids being in astronaut camp. He just doesn't look like a movie guy. Aren't those people supposed to be famous?”

I stare at Mr. Chanko's wintergreen vest and khakis. Are those New Balance? Yeah, this guy is just someone's dad.

“I don't know about famous,” says Katy. “It's not like he's acting in them.”

“Okay, true. But astronaut training? Doesn't it cost a ton of money to go to space?”

My eyes return to his shoes. 

“Oh!” Katy exclaims, eyes wide and filled with sudden understanding. “The movie money is probably what paid for the space camp!”

“Katy, be for real.”

“Oh, come on. He’s white. That’s something they would do.”

I look Mr. Chanko up and down one last time. Yeah, that is something they would do. With the last two minutes on the timer, I put pen to paper. 

[]

The Fava Bean Effect

In chaos theory, The Butterfly Effect is the sensitive dependence on initial conditions in which a small change in one state of a deterministic nonlinear system can result in large differences in a later state.

If you don't know exactly what that means, me neither. I just pulled that from Wikipedia. But I'm sure you've heard the concept: the flap of a butterfly's wings can cause a tropical storm on the other side of the world. Famous real-life examples include the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand leading to World War I, and a moldy petri dish leading to the discovery of penicillin.

In my life, I believe fava beans are the reason I still talk to my fifth-grade writing teacher.

I was born with G6PD deficiency. It's a condition that causes red blood cells to break down after consuming certain medications or foods.

Growing up in New York City, we all have our favorite bodega. Mine was run by a Middle Eastern family; they sold the best falafel. Falafel is usually made with fava beans or chickpeas. Fava beans can cause nasty anemic reactions in those with G6PD. Thankfully, for me, my symptoms were never severe, but it did land me in the hospital once or twice. While there were a multitude of reasons for my eventual extended hospital visit, fava beans were the catalyst, the first step towards dizzy spells that brought me to the doctor's office door. It was during my weeks-long stay that I discovered my love of reading. I became the 6th floor's kleptomaniac, hoarding any reading material I could get my hands on because there wasn't much else to do. I lived for the escapism on every page when I wasn't begging to go home. Eventually we moved away from that bodega, and I stopped getting nauseous.

Four years later I'm in fifth grade, with Mr. Chanko as my writing enrichment teacher, trying to convince him that Twilight is a perfectly acceptable piece of classic literature we should totally be studying in class. It was the only class besides gym that I looked forward to. We'd spend hours dissecting the tone of the authors' words, trying to find the meaning behind every setting and metaphor. It opened up a new world for me, changing how I read every book after that. I'd reread the same novel over and over just so I could see it in a different light each time. My poor paperbacks were soon in pieces and had my writing on every page by the end of my (ab)use.

The assigned reading was great, but Mr. Chanko was my writing teacher, not my reading teacher, and in the beginning I didn't like writing so much. At one point, we were working on figures of speech for poetry, and how different verbs and adjectives can change the entire feeling of a piece.

“The other day we were talking about bikes, right? You said, Glenda, that you had a ‘big blue bike.’ That's alliteration, and you didn't even know it. It can come naturally. Don’t overthink it. How about you look back to some of your readings, find an example, and start there."

And so I did. I had recently read of a girl looking for a prom dress, and one of her options was “electric blue.” With Mr. Chanko’s help, she came alive on my paper in a different way. Before I knew it, I had two pages of an unnamed woman commanding a room in her glowing gown. She became the main character of almost every piece after that. She captivated world leaders, fought monsters, and enjoyed the midnight waves on beaches of deserted islands. Once again, Mr. Chanko was able to show me that I could take my escapism even further, and that's when I started creating. It became my biggest hobby.

My teen years were filled with journaling, library visits, and writing full novel fan-fictions that I will never publish in this lifetime. My love for reading started as a distraction—as long as my eyes were on paper, I could do anything and be anyone in those pages. Mr. Chanko taught me how to cultivate my own creative identity, and apply it to the world around me, not just the novels I buried myself in. As a child, I learned to take the rigid plot of a book I didn't like, and change it into something I knew I'd love. This was helpful as an emotional angsty teen to express myself in a healthy way. Although a creative class, we still had lessons on media literacy, informational texts, fact checking, and identifying bias. This allowed me to excel not only in my academic career, but later down the line as the best political debater in my family during Thanksgiving.

One day, 13 years after I graduated and lost contact with Mr. Chanko, I was sharing these experiences with my husband, telling him the long-lasting effect several of my grade-school teachers had on me, and how I wished I had kept in contact with at least a couple of them. After a few weeks, and his reassurance that it would not be weird, I began searching for them. That's when I found Mr. Chanko on LinkedIn in early 2023. With the click of a button, we reconnected, and I was brought back to fifth grade all over again. We talked about the biggest changes in our lives. I had a family now, and no longer lived in New York. He was retired and was in the later stages of finishing his first novel. 

Now, two years later, his novel is complete, and I'm driving with a pocketful of questions and sweaty palms on my way to our dinner reservation. When I finally saw him, it felt like no time had passed at all. After 15 years, we gossiped like my aunts after a church service on Sunday afternoon. I was excited to personally interview (interrogate) one of my favorite authors, about where and how he’d come up with several of the scenes in his novel.

But before I could do that, I did have to ask our waiter: “Does this pasta come with fava beans?”

[]

Mind the Gap

Roars from the tracks.

We sway in unison.

Stops ripple, tearing roots

from our hands and feet.

Reclaimed by black ocean waters.

Messages in a bottle, spilled,

glittering along rocky shores.

Grains of sand,

together we spill.

Never to touch again

==========================

A Bond That Never Broke

By Omar Jalloh

I still remember sitting in my third-grade classroom in 2014. That was the year I wrote my very first essay, learned how to multiply, and discovered chess for the first time. Chess isn’t usually part of a third-grade curriculum, but more on that later.

At eight years old, I had no idea that the man teaching me nine-times-nine would become someone I’d still be connected to twelve years later. Yet here I am, twenty years old, in nursing school, and still in touch with my third-grade teacher. And, honestly, I brag about it every chance I get, because I know most people can’t say the same.

When I received the invitation from Mr. Chanko to contribute to this blog, my first thought was: “You sure you trust me with this?”

Almost instantly, memories from the 2014–2015 school year started flooding my mind like iMessage notifications lighting up my phone…

The school year started off pretty normal. Everything flowed easily, and I genuinely loved waking up for school each morning. Mr. Chanko had a color system of green, yellow, and red to track behavior and performance. I loved that system because it motivated me to work harder and stay in the green.

Then, in February 2014, everything changed. My favorite teacher was suddenly removed from the classroom due to false allegations. (Read the blog, Rubber Room Writings, to see what happened.) At the time, the school gave us very little information about his absence and they brought in a substitute for months. I absolutely hated it.

The school kept pushing his return date further and further back. One Friday, we were told he’d be back the following Monday. I wasn’t even a New York Yankees fan back then, but I knew how much Mr. Chanko loved that Bronx baseball team, so I wore an oversized Yankees jersey and wrote a Welcome Back card to surprise him. We waited all day for him to walk through the door, but once again, the date was pushed back, a disappointment I still remember.

Later, in middle school, I ended up attending the same school as the student who had accused him. I even hung out at his house a few times. Looking back now, the family seemed unstable, and the student’s behavior became increasingly erratic over the years. It lined up with someone who might make false claims against a teacher. Fortunately, the truth came out, and their attempt failed.

By the end of my third-grade school year, Mr. Chanko finally returned. It felt incredible to have him back. That June, I learned how to play chess from the chess master himself. I’m grateful I learned it so young because I’ve carried those lessons far beyond the chessboard. Chess taught me patience, vision, and strategy, skills I now use daily in life.

Years later, when I came across Mr. Chanko on social media, I hesitated to send a friend request because I didn’t want him to think I was stalking him. Luckily, he accepted, and we’ve stayed connected — in real life! — for over a decade now.

Since then, he’s taken me to Yankees games, introduced me to movies I might never have discovered on my own (one we saw, with Sidney Poitier and Tony Curtis, was in a theater underground at the Museum of Modern Art), and we’ve even checked out the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown together (yes, I’m now a big Yankees fan!) He’s also treated me to some unforgettable meals, and more often than not, we ordered the same thing: a cheeseburger and fries with a ridiculous amount of ketchup. I mean, can you blame us? You really can’t go wrong with a good burger.

Now, seeing Mr. Chanko about to publish his own book, it feels surreal. I have about three chapters left to finish. It’s written as fiction, but the themes and events feel real and deeply human. I’m honored to witness his journey as an author and as someone who continues to inspire me. I truly can’t thank God enough for bringing him into my life. His support, especially while I’m in nursing school, means more than words can express.

And I’m looking forward to another burger sometime soon. You down, Mr. Chanko…?

TEACHERS’ LOUNGE

Those who know me know that as year-end approaches, they can’t escape my Best Movies of the Year list(s).

After all, while I spent a decade of my life as a New York City public school teacher (circa 2005-’15), I spent more than double that number of years writing about the movies before changing careers. Head over to the ‘Biography’ page on this site, scroll down, and you’ll see links to a small sampling of still-existing feature articles I wrote, dating back to the late-’80s.

So, now that I have this little ole bloggy thing goin’ on my author website, I’ll be inflicting my picks on y’all right here…

My Top Ten Movies of 2025

(includes documentaries and foreign-language films)

1.  One Battle After Another

2.  It Was Just An Accident

3.  No Other Choice

4.  The Voice of Hind Rajab

5.  Sinners

6.  Cover-Up

7.  The Secret Agent

8.  Orwell: 2 + 2 = 5

9.  Sirāt

10.  Train Dreams

An Honorable Mention Baker's Dozen: Eephus, Familiar Touch, Frankenstein, Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk, Lurker, The Perfect Neighbor, On Becoming a Guinea Fowl, If I Had Legs I'd Kick You, Nouvelle Vague, Blue Moon, The Teacher, Weapons and Bugonia.

Note: Check back here in a couple of weeks from now, when I’ll have updated and finalized this list; I’ve yet to screen The Testament of Ann Lee, Father Mother Sister Brother, Resurrection and Marty Supreme, among a couple of others that have best-of-year potential.