Things I Learned At Odyssey of the Mind World Finals

My son's Odyssey of the Mind team made it to the World Finals, held in Michigan on the Michigan State University campus. It was a HUGE honor to get there, especially given our somewhat sketchy start.

For anyone not familiar with Odyssey of the Mind (OM), let me explain a little about the program. Children are selected for their team based upon their creativity. Once the teams (made up of between 5-7 children) are selected, they begin working on their long-term problem. They are allowed absolutely NO outside assistance. Parents, teachers, coaches, classmates cannot help them. Not even to make a suggestion. They have to create everything themselves - skit, costumes, set, props.

Our problem this year was "Food Court". Each member portrayed a piece of food. One item accused another of being unhealthy. The argument was taken to a jury who decided whether or not the accused was guilty. The skit had to be comical in nature and the jury could not be portrayed by the team members (basically, they had to create a jury out of props and find a way to make the jury signal what their verdict was without touching said jury).

They also compete in a spontaneous problem where they are given a problem and 1-2 minutes to come up with a solution (or a list of solutions) on the spot.

The team went to our regional competition with a script that was barely a week old. The parents were skeptical that we would even make it to State Finals. The kids never gave up hope. They walked out for their performance and killed it, adding new hilarious parts that none of us had seen before. Later it was announced that we had placed 3rd, making us eligible for State. We went to State and once again the kids surprised us with a really funny, well thought-out script. We worried about their spontaneous problem though, our little team hasn't always done great at those.

Later at the awards ceremony, they announced that the top 2 teams from each division would be eligible for World Finals. Imagine our surprise when we were announced as the 2nd place team. Turns out, our kids got 100 out of 100 possible points in spontaneous! Who knew! (Here's their reaction to learning that they would be going to Worlds: Kids attack!)

So after 6 weeks of frantic fundraising, we boarded a charter bus with 3 other teams from our area and took off. Destination: East Lansing, MI.

These are some observations I made along the way:

1) When the GPS keeps saying, "Turn right, turn right...recalculating...turn right, turn right...redirecting...turn right, turn right...redirecting". It might be a good idea to tap your bus driver on the shoulder and point out that perhaps the GPS lady is correct. If not, you may end up on some dark, two-lane road on the outskirts of St. Louis.

2) There is no way to get comfortable enough to get a good night's sleep on a bus...unless you're a 10 year old child with a nice plush mommy to lie upon.

3) It is impossible to have a group of people number-off when the guy designated as #1 is always missing...always.

4) People from Michigan that say it doesn't get hot there are LIARS. All of them.

5) While people of the world will go to war over the stupidest things, kids of the world will find a reason to celebrate over the tiniest things. "Hey, you're wearing a red t-shirt, so am I! Yea! Let's be friends!"

6) Dorm showers haven't gotten any better.

7) Dorm food hasn't gotten a whole lot better either and reminded me why I spent a large portion of my college years as a vegetarian.

8) Kids 'round the world love banging incessantly on pianos.

9) Cotton/poly t-shirts are hot. Literally.

10) No matter how much you can't stand a song, once you attach an awesome memory to it, you'll find your disdain for that particular song ever decreasing. Closing ceremonies and the Black Eyed Peas

11) Even 10-year-olds from Poland know the "Thriller" dance.

12) A child properly trained in the art of Pokemon, Yu-Gi-Oh, and Bakugan trading will be a master at World Finals pin trading.

13) Not all teenagers are sled-stealing, hit-and-run driving turds.

14) NASA is just as cool to me now as it was when I was a kid.

15) My kid thinks the same about NASA.

16) Introducing a 10-year-old boy who dreams of being a scientist to an actual scientist from NASA is like introducing an 8-year-old girl to Justin Bieber.

17) Communal living is not as fun as an adult as it was as a teenager...unless there's a communal "mommy cooler" involved.

18) You can spend 4 days of your life sweating, walking, hiking up and down stairs repeatedly, and eating healthy and come home to a scale that says you've gained 2 pounds.

19) "Inappropriate" is my new favorite word.

20) Even though a team of 9 and 10-year-olds was not declared the World Champions, they will cheer fervently for the team that was.

21) People from Hong Kong, Singapore, Korea, China, Poland, Germany, Russia, and Mexico may not know much English, but they know Flat Stanley.

22) People from Hong Kong think Michigan is hot too.

23) Once an Omer, always an Omer. My memories of competing in the "Camelot" problem in 1984 came back to me as I watched my son go through the process.

24) Don't give up. Ever. You just might find that your "little team that could" ended up in 9th place in the world. NINTH PLACE!!! WOOT!

25) Perhaps the biggest lesson I learned is that if the grown-ups of the world acted more like the kids of the world, we'd live in a much happier place filled with hot dogs, cotton candy, snow cones, flashy lighted necklaces, and airplanes that soar powered only by the fuel of imagination... and a couple of strategically placed rubber bands.

Preston and one of his new friends from Singapore












*stepping off my shoebox*
-Jenmac

I'm still alive!

Hello readers (if there are any of you left)!

Funny how life gets in the way sometimes, huh? I guess I don't really have any excuses since technically I'm not working right now, nor have I been since last January. I say "technically" because while I don't have a full-time job that I officially have to show up for every day, I am in fact writing full time. Just not on this blog, obviously.

My first novel came out a year-ago last month. My second novel came out in November. My third novel would be out now, but I'm in the running for a major publishing deal so I'm holding onto it until I know something for sure.

Since my first book came out, I've been inundated with friends, acquaintances, even strangers who have all given me the same, "I've always wanted to write a book. You did it, so I'm going to write one too." I don't even know how to respond to this. Part of me wants to be offended, and another part of me is flattered in that whole "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery" way. My response made me question why I would take this negatively. Normally I try to think the best of people, and I always want to encourage people to follow their dreams. Then it hit me. Most of the people who have approached me with their oh-so-logical "well, you did it, so I know I can too" attitude haven't had the lifelong dream of writing a book. It's a whim. Nothing more. I guess that's what upset me. Because, trust me, it has been a lifelong dream of mine to become a writer. It's almost as if they're implying that my dream has little worth because it is so easy to achieve. (Yes, I know this is my overactive imagination hard at work. I don't think anyone really thinks this deep down.)

I started preparing for this in primary school. I decided I would make my own greeting cards. From there I started writing plays for my barbie dolls to act out. As I got older, I began writing short stories, skits, and such for school. At 12 I was making feature films with my parents' VHS recorder (you know the huge ones that have to rest on your shoulder). My sister and cousins played the starring roles, the supporting cast were our cabbage patch kids.

Once I made it to junior high and high school, there was no denying - I was a writer. Friends would commission short stories from me as keepsakes. My parents allowed me to attend a writing seminar at our local college. I was the youngest person in attendance and received a number of funny looks from my college-aged fellow attendees. I still managed to make a good impression on the author leading the seminar who told me to "keep it up." In high school, I was lucky enough to be included in a round-table discussion with none other than Maya Angelou. At the time I was too starstruck to form any intelligible questions, but the experience was worth so much to me.

My senior year of high school I was given a choice - take AP calculus and be assured to make it into the top 10 of my class, or take creative writing and be downgraded to top 25. I figured it's all just numbers (both calculus and my graduating position) so I signed up for creative writing. During the year I wrote and illustrated a children's book, wrote short stories on a weekly basis and learned the art of critiquing other writers. The lessons were invaluable. I also began entering essay-writing contests on top of my ever-growing mountains of homework.

When selecting my college, I took stock of all the universities that had so kindly offered me scholarships. A number even wanted me for their honors programs. The final decision wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. University of Arkansas had one of the top creative writing departments in the country. Decision made. (The fact that it was close to home also helped out too.)

I enrolled as an English and journalism double major with an emphasis on creative writing. Yes, the course work made it the equivalent of triple-majoring. I didn't care. I worked my ass off and learned so much from those most esteemed professors. I made the Dean's list during my hardest semester. I earned the only compliment one professor had ever been known to give during my fiction workshop. I wrote a play during another class which was produced and performed at the university theater. My journalism professors trusted me enough to refer me to any newspaper in the country. Too bad I had decided against the newspaper path. Creative writing was calling my name.

Since graduating I've never stopped writing. I've written film/literary/music reviews for an online newsgroup as well as my local paper. I wrote two sitcom pilots for Bravo. (Neither was produced, but I wrote them and am still proud of them.) I write two blogs. I've got at least 4 more novels planned for the near future and I belong to a group of fellow novelists who I can go to when I need help, motivation, critiquing, or just a good swift kick in the butt.

So, as you can see, I've done the leg work. I know writing. I understand it. Writing and me, we go way back. I'm never further than about ten feet from my Strunk & White. I'm not saying someone shouldn't write a book just because they didn't major in English. Some of our greatest works wouldn't exist if that were the case. Just know that when you approach me with the attitude that what I've accomplished in my life was easy, it hurts, and it's certainly not true. For my friends who have started down their own paths as writers and are taking it seriously, you know what I mean! It ain't easy!

And on a much happier note, I give you my dream shoe...I figure I achieved my dream of becoming a novelist, maybe someday I can achieve the dream of owning these babies.

Yes, the Manolo Blahnik Sedaraby D'Orsay in silver, with the 4" heel, not the 3 1/2".

Let's just take a moment to bask in its glory.

*sigh*

*drool*

*longer sigh*

*touches the screen longingly*

Their story:
If shoes were a religion, these would be the Holy Spirit. They're enigmatic. They inspire. They shine. Oh, look at how they shine.

So, if any of you, my loyal, beautiful, lovely, terribly intelligent readers has an extra...oh...$800 laying around, I accept paypal, Visa, Mastercard, American Express, Discover, Diner's Club, cashier's check, regular check, money orders, cash, pennies... I thank you in advance.

Stepping off my shoebox,
Jenmac