What I should be doing right now? Planning my lesson for AP tomorrow.
What I'm actually going to do right now? Commiserate over the stress that is September.
September sounds great ... all year, I think to myself how amazing this month is. The weather is so beautiful (most of the time). I love the smell of school. It's the threshold to fall, my favorite season. And then it actually comes. September is hell.
There are new routines and schedules to learn. There's homecoming to plan, supervise, and survive. I have to learn new names. I have to put up with construction (granted, this is a one-year deal, but if you think it's no big one come spend an hour in my portable with two jackhammers going all. damn. day).
I can't wait for this month to end. I think I like October better. We'll see if that holds up when I get there.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Aloha!
It's ironic that the first thing I could think of for a title to this post indicates paradise and/or vacation. I have enjoyed neither this summer. I haven't been in the opposite of paradise, but I have had next to no vacation at all. Instead, I rather foolishly committed to many, many things that have taken up just about every day of what should have been a well-enjoyed vacation. Here's what I've done this summer:
1. Traveled up an down the east coast so that my Best Friend (ahem, Goddaughter) could visit.
2. Mentored for the writing project at UMaine.
3. Spent a week at an AP institute so I can be prepared for my new class.
4. Spent 1 day at the beach and 1 at the coast.
5. Taken care of things on the home front (Nana, doggy, house, etc).
6. Zumba (okay, okay. That was pretty fun).
I'm not complaining, because it's been joyous to sleep in and spend time away from my classroom. However, I do think I need to make it a priority to do things for myself over vacations. I'm ready for school in some ways - I like having a schedule, meeting new kids, seeing my colleagues. It's just tough to look at the calendar and realize that in 2 weeks I have to go back to school. But, if I survived last year, I can survive pretty much anything!
1. Traveled up an down the east coast so that my Best Friend (ahem, Goddaughter) could visit.
2. Mentored for the writing project at UMaine.
3. Spent a week at an AP institute so I can be prepared for my new class.
4. Spent 1 day at the beach and 1 at the coast.
5. Taken care of things on the home front (Nana, doggy, house, etc).
6. Zumba (okay, okay. That was pretty fun).
I'm not complaining, because it's been joyous to sleep in and spend time away from my classroom. However, I do think I need to make it a priority to do things for myself over vacations. I'm ready for school in some ways - I like having a schedule, meeting new kids, seeing my colleagues. It's just tough to look at the calendar and realize that in 2 weeks I have to go back to school. But, if I survived last year, I can survive pretty much anything!
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
8 days ...
School is over for the year in just 8 days. 8 long, excruciating, dull days and I'll be on vacation for a few months. This stretch of school is seriously looking like it will never end. There's so much to do, but I don't have the time, or the energy.
Right now it's a balmy 80-degrees in my classroom, and I'm super tired. It's going to be 90 tomorrow (hello flashback to the first days of the year). If I can make it through tomorrow's heat wave I might have some hope ... I guess we'll see what happens.
With any luck tomorrow will include thunderstorms and loads of rain to cool us off.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Poetry in my classroom
I started a unit on poetry in creative writing today. We read a nice essay by Natalie Goldberg, then played poetry poker. I'm not sure how, but one of the boys in my class came up with quite the poem. About periods. As the kids were rearranging the lines they created from their poker cards, this particular young man waved me over and said, "Ms. D, how would you .... uh, what would you say period smells like?"
I lost it. I mean, yay that he was comfortable enough with me to ask that questions, but ewwww. As a class, after much laughter, we (the 16 girls in a class of 19) decided to tell him iron. He tweaked the poem and we were treated to this:
The Red Storm
It's a dreadful dark storm that smells of iron.
Red ooze for breakfast, ensuing chaos
What an arousing ceremony.
Though I stumble and fear the heavy flow.
Velvet fruit and leaping rain. Oh the aroma!
The slippery red stream was a glorious ceremony.
My day, dare I say week, have been made. Creative writing ... oh dear.
Oh, yeah ... just because we were silly, I ended by sharing this poem with the students.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Connection
I really need to read some of my creative writing kids' short stories, but I'm in the mood to write. And when the mood hits, and there are a few moments to spare, I need to take advantage. So, here it goes.
I started this blog with the intention of making about my teaching life, but lately I've come to the undeniable conclusion that my life and my teaching life cannot be separated. Indeed, they are synonymous. I guess I've always known that being a teacher is about more than just the time in school, and I've embraced that in a lot of ways. But, I got to thinking today about reading people and how, as a teacher and a person, that is so damn confusing sometimes.
So, let me back up. I was talking to another teacher today and he paid me quite the compliment. He basically said that hiring me was one of the better things the school I'm at had done in a while. That I brought new energy and new things. I mean, I definitely think that things started to change when I got my school, but it certainly wasn't all me. I've had the supreme honor of working with a group of new teachers who are fabulous. Our beliefs line up, we are the job, and we do everything we can to kick butt at it. So, anyway, the thing I'm getting at from this conversation is that I do - I think - try to go above and beyond for my work. I really don't do things half way; just not in my nature. One of the things I have to constantly work on and train myself in is the reading of people.
I've always considered myself pretty intuitive when it comes to ascertaining what others are thinking and feeling - I think because I myself am such an emotional person. When I feel it, I own it. So, I can see the signs in other people. As a teacher, I do this all day long. In my life outside school I do it a lot as well. But, it occurred to me today, I'm not as good at it as I think. People are complex.
Yes, I can look at someone and decided whether they're happy or sad, angry or pleased, and lots of other things. And, I can generally tell whether or not someone likes me. I often try to decided what people are thinking too, and I can't.
Isn't it crazy that for every student, friend, or even stranger I can read there's another that totally baffles me? It's both beautiful and frustrating that people are so complex. And, I wonder, how well others read me. I assume that it's easy to know what I'm feeling and thinking, but perhaps just as much as some people confuse me, I evade their understanding.
I don't know ... I just paused today and realized that it's a real source of angst for me when I can't tell what someone is thinking or feeling. Maybe it's because I emote so much and so often and so openly that I expect that of others. It's not realistic, and I know that, but the emotional side of me feels (see, there I go with feelings) that unless we share our emotions, we aren't really, genuinely connected as human beings.
I started this blog with the intention of making about my teaching life, but lately I've come to the undeniable conclusion that my life and my teaching life cannot be separated. Indeed, they are synonymous. I guess I've always known that being a teacher is about more than just the time in school, and I've embraced that in a lot of ways. But, I got to thinking today about reading people and how, as a teacher and a person, that is so damn confusing sometimes.
So, let me back up. I was talking to another teacher today and he paid me quite the compliment. He basically said that hiring me was one of the better things the school I'm at had done in a while. That I brought new energy and new things. I mean, I definitely think that things started to change when I got my school, but it certainly wasn't all me. I've had the supreme honor of working with a group of new teachers who are fabulous. Our beliefs line up, we are the job, and we do everything we can to kick butt at it. So, anyway, the thing I'm getting at from this conversation is that I do - I think - try to go above and beyond for my work. I really don't do things half way; just not in my nature. One of the things I have to constantly work on and train myself in is the reading of people.
I've always considered myself pretty intuitive when it comes to ascertaining what others are thinking and feeling - I think because I myself am such an emotional person. When I feel it, I own it. So, I can see the signs in other people. As a teacher, I do this all day long. In my life outside school I do it a lot as well. But, it occurred to me today, I'm not as good at it as I think. People are complex.
Yes, I can look at someone and decided whether they're happy or sad, angry or pleased, and lots of other things. And, I can generally tell whether or not someone likes me. I often try to decided what people are thinking too, and I can't.
Isn't it crazy that for every student, friend, or even stranger I can read there's another that totally baffles me? It's both beautiful and frustrating that people are so complex. And, I wonder, how well others read me. I assume that it's easy to know what I'm feeling and thinking, but perhaps just as much as some people confuse me, I evade their understanding.
I don't know ... I just paused today and realized that it's a real source of angst for me when I can't tell what someone is thinking or feeling. Maybe it's because I emote so much and so often and so openly that I expect that of others. It's not realistic, and I know that, but the emotional side of me feels (see, there I go with feelings) that unless we share our emotions, we aren't really, genuinely connected as human beings.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
One word
One word and
I'd be yours.
One word and
I'd give you forever.
One word and
I'd be happy.
Make you happy.
Always.
One word and
it would be we.
Not you and me,
not he and she, but
us.
One word and
you could have it all,
my heart
my love
my trust.
One word and
we could be.
I'd be yours.
One word and
I'd give you forever.
One word and
I'd be happy.
Make you happy.
Always.
One word and
it would be we.
Not you and me,
not he and she, but
us.
One word and
you could have it all,
my heart
my love
my trust.
One word and
we could be.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
miss you
i want to be mad at you.
want to scream at you
punch you
hold it against you.
i want to loath you.
need to remind myself why
you
suck.
i want to say mean things to you.
to mean it when i call you a jerk,
an ass,
a typical, self-absorbed, emotionally stunted boy.
i want to make you feel bad.
feel rejected
dejected
neglected
(even in your dreams).
But,
i can't.
two little words -
miss you
make it
impossible. because
i miss you too.
want to scream at you
punch you
hold it against you.
i want to loath you.
need to remind myself why
you
suck.
i want to say mean things to you.
to mean it when i call you a jerk,
an ass,
a typical, self-absorbed, emotionally stunted boy.
i want to make you feel bad.
feel rejected
dejected
neglected
(even in your dreams).
But,
i can't.
two little words -
miss you
make it
impossible. because
i miss you too.
Spring reflections
This time of year - the spring - always manages to make me very reflective about things. I find myself melancholy over endings, excited for beginnings, and just generally very thoughtful about my life. I'm not sure when this started, or why it always seems to happen at the same time each year, but it does. And, let me tell you, being thoughtful makes me tired.
I can't help but think about the things that have happened in the past year. Most people do this at New Year's, but the teacher in me measures years from the end of school to the end of school. So, here I am, enjoying sunshine during April vacation. I'm taking stock of everything I have to be thankful for, but that also means revisiting the things that have hurt. When I finish these kinds of musings, I'm always hopeful, but the process isn't always super fun.
The spring makes me miss my Mom. Her birthday is at the end of April, and then mother's day comes, so ... I mean, that's hard. Most of the time, I'm fine. Most of the time, I miss her, and I don't notice because that's a constant thing for me. But, on special days, I notice because I miss her just a little more. And, it scares me, sometimes, that I can't remember how her voice sounded or what her hugs were like. It never occurred to me, when she was sick, that there would "lasts". A last smile or laugh or hug or kiss. You just don't think about those things, you know? And then, when you try to remember, you can't.
And then, in spring, there are endings. The end of another school year, which brings about goodbyes. This year has been tough professionally and personally, but no matter how tough a class of kids are, they're mine by June and it's tough to let them go. People move on, that's what we do, but it never makes it easier to say goodbye to people who are important. I hope to be able to stay in contact with the people in whom I invest my time and energy, but sometimes life gets in the way and that doesn't work out.
So, all of this could potentially make me sound depressed. I'm not. I promise. A little blue? Yes, I am. But, as with all things, this shall pass. It always does. I can get lost inside my own thoughts, sometimes, and forget about all of the things going on around me and how fantastic those are. I think it's important to stop and take stock of life, and I guess that's what I'm doing. I'm pausing, looking at myself and my life, and deciding what things need to be sent away after spring cleaning. The "baggage" that accumulates in a year needs to be sifted through - most of it isn't worth the storage space. Some if it is, if only to wait and see what comes from it.
I can't help but think about the things that have happened in the past year. Most people do this at New Year's, but the teacher in me measures years from the end of school to the end of school. So, here I am, enjoying sunshine during April vacation. I'm taking stock of everything I have to be thankful for, but that also means revisiting the things that have hurt. When I finish these kinds of musings, I'm always hopeful, but the process isn't always super fun.
The spring makes me miss my Mom. Her birthday is at the end of April, and then mother's day comes, so ... I mean, that's hard. Most of the time, I'm fine. Most of the time, I miss her, and I don't notice because that's a constant thing for me. But, on special days, I notice because I miss her just a little more. And, it scares me, sometimes, that I can't remember how her voice sounded or what her hugs were like. It never occurred to me, when she was sick, that there would "lasts". A last smile or laugh or hug or kiss. You just don't think about those things, you know? And then, when you try to remember, you can't.
And then, in spring, there are endings. The end of another school year, which brings about goodbyes. This year has been tough professionally and personally, but no matter how tough a class of kids are, they're mine by June and it's tough to let them go. People move on, that's what we do, but it never makes it easier to say goodbye to people who are important. I hope to be able to stay in contact with the people in whom I invest my time and energy, but sometimes life gets in the way and that doesn't work out.
So, all of this could potentially make me sound depressed. I'm not. I promise. A little blue? Yes, I am. But, as with all things, this shall pass. It always does. I can get lost inside my own thoughts, sometimes, and forget about all of the things going on around me and how fantastic those are. I think it's important to stop and take stock of life, and I guess that's what I'm doing. I'm pausing, looking at myself and my life, and deciding what things need to be sent away after spring cleaning. The "baggage" that accumulates in a year needs to be sifted through - most of it isn't worth the storage space. Some if it is, if only to wait and see what comes from it.
Revisiting journals
I was revisiting some old journals I had written, and came across this one. It's till particularly relevant despite a whole year having gone by.
I need to find some balance. Not the kind where I don't fall over standing up, although that would be nice as well. I need the kind of balance where I can handle all of the things in my life without feeling as though something is going to give at any moment. That's where I am - waiting for something to fall.
I am a busy, busy girl. I wouldn't have it any other way, but sometimes all I want is to curl up in my bed with a good book or movie and some ice cream (or cake). There's never time for that, though. Or, if I find a few spare moments for it, I feel guilty using them for that purpose. When I sit and just relax, I find myself thinking about the laundry I could do, the chores Nana needs done, the grading or planning I could get ahead on for school. It's a never ending list, and I don't even have kids, yet. And I do want them someday.
I think part of my problem with feeling so much pressure all of the time is that I overbook myself and I also put too much energy into EVERYTHING, which inevitably means somethings fall to the side. Usually it's my mental health and well-being that get left behind - like right now.
No matter how many times I go through this little cycle (overbooked, underbooked, overbooked), I never learn. I still commit myself to too many things. I try to do it all, and do it all really well. I'm learning to balance my life more. I've learned to say no when I'm doubting whether or not I actually have time. I've learned to make priorities even when everything seems like one. But, I still do too much. Vacation is almost over, and I'm not sure what I've done, but I know that not one day has been spent on the couch with a book or my journal. Errands call, friends must be met, and the house needs to be ready for the impending family Easter. It's exhausting in a lot of ways, but I also can't imagine being any other way.
I need to find some balance. Not the kind where I don't fall over standing up, although that would be nice as well. I need the kind of balance where I can handle all of the things in my life without feeling as though something is going to give at any moment. That's where I am - waiting for something to fall.
I am a busy, busy girl. I wouldn't have it any other way, but sometimes all I want is to curl up in my bed with a good book or movie and some ice cream (or cake). There's never time for that, though. Or, if I find a few spare moments for it, I feel guilty using them for that purpose. When I sit and just relax, I find myself thinking about the laundry I could do, the chores Nana needs done, the grading or planning I could get ahead on for school. It's a never ending list, and I don't even have kids, yet. And I do want them someday.
I think part of my problem with feeling so much pressure all of the time is that I overbook myself and I also put too much energy into EVERYTHING, which inevitably means somethings fall to the side. Usually it's my mental health and well-being that get left behind - like right now.
No matter how many times I go through this little cycle (overbooked, underbooked, overbooked), I never learn. I still commit myself to too many things. I try to do it all, and do it all really well. I'm learning to balance my life more. I've learned to say no when I'm doubting whether or not I actually have time. I've learned to make priorities even when everything seems like one. But, I still do too much. Vacation is almost over, and I'm not sure what I've done, but I know that not one day has been spent on the couch with a book or my journal. Errands call, friends must be met, and the house needs to be ready for the impending family Easter. It's exhausting in a lot of ways, but I also can't imagine being any other way.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Bucket List
I went to lunch today with a student I had my very first year of teaching and her Mom. I love, love, love this young lady. She's so much like me, only more brave, more out there, more creative, more. More in general. She loves the things I love, and I just can't help but smile when I spend time with her and her mother. Anyway, we started talking about something and the term bucket list came up. It's the second time this week I've heard the term, and it got me thinking. What things would make my bucket list? So, I made a mental list, but a few items in I realized I was thinking too small - as in buying a home and getting married/having kids small. I've tried to push all of that out of my mind, and I'm actually starting myself a bucket list. Here it is ...
1. Travel the world. Specifically - Italy, Greece, France, England, Ireland, Scotland, Australia
2. Sing inside Westminster Abbey
3. Visit the Holocaust Museum in Washington DC and/or historical Holocaust sites in Europe
4. Live for a year in a big city (New York, San Fransisco, London, Seattle)
5. Meet Chris Crutcher
6. Get published
7. Learn to play an instrument - probably piano
8. Own a piece of the yellow brick road
It's hard to come up with these things, but pretty fun to imagine them. I'm going to have to revisit this list. I'm liking it!
1. Travel the world. Specifically - Italy, Greece, France, England, Ireland, Scotland, Australia
2. Sing inside Westminster Abbey
3. Visit the Holocaust Museum in Washington DC and/or historical Holocaust sites in Europe
4. Live for a year in a big city (New York, San Fransisco, London, Seattle)
5. Meet Chris Crutcher
6. Get published
7. Learn to play an instrument - probably piano
8. Own a piece of the yellow brick road
It's hard to come up with these things, but pretty fun to imagine them. I'm going to have to revisit this list. I'm liking it!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Romeo and Juliet saved my day
I'm sitting in my last period class right now - of freshman. We finished reading Act I of Romeo and Juliet this week, and it's been painful so far. I'm going on something like my 18th reading of this play. It's not Shakespeare's best work, and I can recite parts of it word-for-word. But, today, we started working on choice assignments for Act I; here they are:
Anyway, I was nervous. I'd convinced myself that this would be as painful as reading the play again. But, they surprised me so pleasantly, I can't believe it. They worked in pairs SO well, and so many of them had actual FUN with the assignment. I haven't gotten to see them yet, so I don't know what the quality will be, but I do know that they laughed and translated and DID THEIR WORK! It's been such a tough year with this group, so when I get days like today when they're respectful, on task, productive, and LEARNING I feel the need to document it. I know in a week or two, I'll need the reminder that it isn't bad all of the time.
Anyway, I was nervous. I'd convinced myself that this would be as painful as reading the play again. But, they surprised me so pleasantly, I can't believe it. They worked in pairs SO well, and so many of them had actual FUN with the assignment. I haven't gotten to see them yet, so I don't know what the quality will be, but I do know that they laughed and translated and DID THEIR WORK! It's been such a tough year with this group, so when I get days like today when they're respectful, on task, productive, and LEARNING I feel the need to document it. I know in a week or two, I'll need the reminder that it isn't bad all of the time.
From a News Story
I used the above story with my creative writing class in an activity on point of view. The story below is what I got from it:
TJ Jones goes to Hogwarts
I wrote this entry with my creative writing class. We were working on using what we know about characters to see how they would react in a situation. Each of us chose a favorite character - one that we know well - and I gave them a situation. They were:
1. If your character is in a realistic book, what would happen if they found themselves at Hogwarts?
2. If your character is from a fantasy book, what would a day at our school be like for them. Here's what I came up with:
Monday, March 7, 2011
So, I just looked at the updated syllabus for class. I discovered that we have a new project: a professional development plan for writing and the teaching of writing. My first reaction was "Crap. Another project." But, after I read through, I realized that this has the potential to be the most useful project of the entire semester.
See, after implementing serious structural changes to the 11th and 12th grade English classes at our school this year, we quickly discovered that more changes were needed. There are students, juniors, who did not write one essay in the entire first semester. We're supposed to be preparing them for the future, but because of SAT prep, we're not. So, the majority of our department agreed that rather than direct SAT prep, we need to focus on essay writing. If kids can write a solid essay, they're going to succeed on the SAT.
Unfortunately, I suspect that some of our teachers are still resistant to this idea. So, I need to figure out a way to use this project to convince them. The administration is completely supportive, so if my plan is good, I'm guessing I can get it through.
So, while another project overwhelms me in a lot of ways, I'm also really excited about the possibilities the end result could produce.
See, after implementing serious structural changes to the 11th and 12th grade English classes at our school this year, we quickly discovered that more changes were needed. There are students, juniors, who did not write one essay in the entire first semester. We're supposed to be preparing them for the future, but because of SAT prep, we're not. So, the majority of our department agreed that rather than direct SAT prep, we need to focus on essay writing. If kids can write a solid essay, they're going to succeed on the SAT.
Unfortunately, I suspect that some of our teachers are still resistant to this idea. So, I need to figure out a way to use this project to convince them. The administration is completely supportive, so if my plan is good, I'm guessing I can get it through.
So, while another project overwhelms me in a lot of ways, I'm also really excited about the possibilities the end result could produce.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
The First Class
I can remember being told that my first year of teaching would be the worst. The absolute worst. One professor warned that we should keep a heft supply of tissues in the car, our best friend on speed dial, and plenty of liquor in the fridge. I prepared myself for hell. Hell in a small school in central Maine where I would teach 8th grade. I'm pretty sure that the day before I started my first job I uttered the words, "They're going to eat me alive" more than once.
I'll admit that I'm never, ever going to forget that first year. It had some pretty bad days, but those are almost all forgotten now, three years later. Instead, I think everyday about how much I learned as a teacher and person, and about how much I love and miss those kids.
Every year, I think about my days at CMS. I think about the connections I made with kids, and some that I still have. I think about how eager they were to learn what I had to teach. I wonder, more than anything, whether I'll ever find a class like that again.
I know that those kids will always be special; they were the first class all my own. It was a small class, and I had them 80 minutes everyday. But, there was more than that. I am a person who believes in fate or destiny or whatever you want to call it. And, as such, I truly believe that I was meant to have that class, that year.
I'm not sure I'll ever have a class I connect with like that again. A few have come close, but there's always something missing, and I can't figure out what it is. Maybe when I do, I'll figure out if I can recreate the feelings of that first year.
I'll admit that I'm never, ever going to forget that first year. It had some pretty bad days, but those are almost all forgotten now, three years later. Instead, I think everyday about how much I learned as a teacher and person, and about how much I love and miss those kids.
Every year, I think about my days at CMS. I think about the connections I made with kids, and some that I still have. I think about how eager they were to learn what I had to teach. I wonder, more than anything, whether I'll ever find a class like that again.
I know that those kids will always be special; they were the first class all my own. It was a small class, and I had them 80 minutes everyday. But, there was more than that. I am a person who believes in fate or destiny or whatever you want to call it. And, as such, I truly believe that I was meant to have that class, that year.
I'm not sure I'll ever have a class I connect with like that again. A few have come close, but there's always something missing, and I can't figure out what it is. Maybe when I do, I'll figure out if I can recreate the feelings of that first year.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Seven days ago ...
Seven days ago I cut my hair and now, no one will talk to me. I don’t get it; it’s like I’m invisible. I used to walk into rooms and every eye would be on me. No one, not even the people who hate me could look away. Now, I walk in and they just continue their conversations or work without a blink. It’s crazy. Just crazy.
I thought that cutting my hair would make people notice me even more than they already did. But, it hasn’t. How can they not see that this adorable bob has enhanced my beauty. I’m dying over here with no idea what to do.
I traded in my pink braids for a normal do, and now I’m nothing. I used to get laughed at, but at least people noticed me. At least they knew I was there; how could they not with my neon hair? Now, I try to get the latest style, thinking people will notice right away that my hair is different and I get nothing.
This is lame. So lame. Maybe I should ask for a refund from the hairdresser. Probably won’t get it; cheap bastard. How can I get people to notice me again?
Maybe … just maybe, I should die it green and spike it. I could probably pull off a Mohawk. Then they’re have to notice me. No one behind me would be able to ignore that …
I thought that cutting my hair would make people notice me even more than they already did. But, it hasn’t. How can they not see that this adorable bob has enhanced my beauty. I’m dying over here with no idea what to do.
I traded in my pink braids for a normal do, and now I’m nothing. I used to get laughed at, but at least people noticed me. At least they knew I was there; how could they not with my neon hair? Now, I try to get the latest style, thinking people will notice right away that my hair is different and I get nothing.
This is lame. So lame. Maybe I should ask for a refund from the hairdresser. Probably won’t get it; cheap bastard. How can I get people to notice me again?
Maybe … just maybe, I should die it green and spike it. I could probably pull off a Mohawk. Then they’re have to notice me. No one behind me would be able to ignore that …
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Lions and snow
March, no matter what the weather is, comes in like a lion for me every. single. year. It's busy, long, and mostly dreary. Coming back from February vacation is tough, because vacation is amazing. Preparing myself for the 6+ weeks until April break is torture.
This year, I'm extra stressed out. In the next two weeks, I have two projects due for my grad school class. I need to finish my multigenre project, which I feel blah about and I need to prepare a 10ish minute book talk to share virtually. On top of that, I have to teach school and manage home stuff. It's overwhelming right now. Once I get started, it will be fine, but I do need to get on top of these things. I'm almost finished with my multigenre project, and I finished my book talk book like a month ago, so it's just the actual video I need to prepare. Actually, I may have just gotten an idea.
Sometimes I forget just how much the kids I teach have going on. I remember being a student, but much like the stress as a teacher, I forgot about it and held on to only the best things. As stressed out as I am, I think my students probably are as well. In different ways, perhaps, but still stressed out and overwhelmed.
If I can make it through March, it's a downhill slide to June. To summer. To freedom. To more grad school classes. Sigh ... I blame it on the bleak weather.
This year, I'm extra stressed out. In the next two weeks, I have two projects due for my grad school class. I need to finish my multigenre project, which I feel blah about and I need to prepare a 10ish minute book talk to share virtually. On top of that, I have to teach school and manage home stuff. It's overwhelming right now. Once I get started, it will be fine, but I do need to get on top of these things. I'm almost finished with my multigenre project, and I finished my book talk book like a month ago, so it's just the actual video I need to prepare. Actually, I may have just gotten an idea.
Sometimes I forget just how much the kids I teach have going on. I remember being a student, but much like the stress as a teacher, I forgot about it and held on to only the best things. As stressed out as I am, I think my students probably are as well. In different ways, perhaps, but still stressed out and overwhelmed.
If I can make it through March, it's a downhill slide to June. To summer. To freedom. To more grad school classes. Sigh ... I blame it on the bleak weather.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The day from hell.
Sometimes, on days like today, I wonder how the heck my students can even get up and come to school in the morning. They come to us with so much baggage - stuff that we don't even know about most of the time. They come from homes where parents are distant or uninvolved. Sometimes parents are too involved. The come to us from homes where parents have left or died. They come to school every morning with all of this, and I know I sometimes forget that.
I forget, when they won't stop talking or are irritating me, all of the stuff they deal with everyday. I talk about my responsibilites all of the time but I often fail to recognize just how much some of these kids have gone or go through. More than ever students need to come to school for emotional and educational support. Sometimes the cases that are most frustrating are the ones that need us most, and I'm not always very good at giving them my best. I want to be, and I should be, but I'm not always that teacher.
I have to ask myself, on a day like today, how much of education is parenting and how much is teaching? Are the two different or have they essentially become one in the same?
I forget, when they won't stop talking or are irritating me, all of the stuff they deal with everyday. I talk about my responsibilites all of the time but I often fail to recognize just how much some of these kids have gone or go through. More than ever students need to come to school for emotional and educational support. Sometimes the cases that are most frustrating are the ones that need us most, and I'm not always very good at giving them my best. I want to be, and I should be, but I'm not always that teacher.
I have to ask myself, on a day like today, how much of education is parenting and how much is teaching? Are the two different or have they essentially become one in the same?
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Is Pakistan a religion?
This is just too good NOT to share it.
Today, in English 9, the students practiced two very basic skills. They were asked to 1. use the internet and databases to find out information on a country from which their ancestors come so that they could 2. write a paragraph using 5 facts. Pretty simple, right?
Well, one young lady was unsure of where her ancestors hail from. I told her to just choose a country, because the goal was that they researched and wrote. So she says, "India. That's a country right? Or is it a continent?" That was funny number 1. I was actually impressed that she didn't choose somewhere like Mexico. Anyway ... she uses World Book Advanced to do her research.
She's a pretty chatty young lady, so I had to hush her several times. As I'm walking around to check their progress I read on her paper the following:
"Islam is on of the countries with the most Muslims."
I can't make this up, people. She wrote it. When I pointed it out, it took her a moment to register the problem. She smiled, laughed, and fixed it. 1 minute later she says:
"Is Pakistan a religion?"
Everyone, and I mean everyone, in the room busted out laughing at her. Thank God she laughed at herself too. And that she figured out it's a country.
Today, in English 9, the students practiced two very basic skills. They were asked to 1. use the internet and databases to find out information on a country from which their ancestors come so that they could 2. write a paragraph using 5 facts. Pretty simple, right?
Well, one young lady was unsure of where her ancestors hail from. I told her to just choose a country, because the goal was that they researched and wrote. So she says, "India. That's a country right? Or is it a continent?" That was funny number 1. I was actually impressed that she didn't choose somewhere like Mexico. Anyway ... she uses World Book Advanced to do her research.
She's a pretty chatty young lady, so I had to hush her several times. As I'm walking around to check their progress I read on her paper the following:
"Islam is on of the countries with the most Muslims."
I can't make this up, people. She wrote it. When I pointed it out, it took her a moment to register the problem. She smiled, laughed, and fixed it. 1 minute later she says:
"Is Pakistan a religion?"
Everyone, and I mean everyone, in the room busted out laughing at her. Thank God she laughed at herself too. And that she figured out it's a country.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Who's really failing?
I spent about an hour this afternoon catching up on grading and on entering those grades in my gradebook. When I finished, I prepared individual student reports of their grades for the third quarter. I noticed a pattern, so I decided to do an actual count. Here are the details:
Total Number of Students: 51
Number of Failing Students: 23
Awesome.
When I was a student, I used to think that if a lot of students failed, the teacher missed something. It wasn't that I thought the teacher was to blame, rather that somewhere there had been a miss-communication. I'm beginning to wonder if that was right.
You see, the thing that all of these failing students have in common is a failure to turn in their work. At all. They have had two SSR journals due this quarter and almost 90% of them have failed to complete both. Additionally, the majority have BOMBED recent vocab quizzes; we're talking scores in the 20s and 30s.
On the one hand, I think to myself that perhaps I need to do more - hound them, given them extensions, something so that they get the work done. And, in September I probably would have. But it's February. The year is more than half way over. They should know by now that assignments can be turned in ONE DAY late for up to 80% and that after that it's a 0. They should know that EVERY FRIDAY they have vocab quizzes and that every other week they need to write 1 page about their SSR book. They are freshman; it shouldn't be on my shoulders anymore.
One of the things we have to do at my school is contact parents if students are at risk of failing. I'm not making 23 phone calls. No way; I'd be on the phone until 11pm.
So, tomorrow morning, I'm printing out these grade reports. Our grading program even adds a line for parent signature. Every student will be bringing these back signed or they will get a detention, and during that detention we will call parents together to explain why the student is failing.
I started this post with the idea that I might be able to convince myself that there is more I could or should do, but I can't. If I coddle these kids, they're going to fail completely next year. It's a catch 22.
Total Number of Students: 51
Number of Failing Students: 23
Awesome.
When I was a student, I used to think that if a lot of students failed, the teacher missed something. It wasn't that I thought the teacher was to blame, rather that somewhere there had been a miss-communication. I'm beginning to wonder if that was right.
You see, the thing that all of these failing students have in common is a failure to turn in their work. At all. They have had two SSR journals due this quarter and almost 90% of them have failed to complete both. Additionally, the majority have BOMBED recent vocab quizzes; we're talking scores in the 20s and 30s.
On the one hand, I think to myself that perhaps I need to do more - hound them, given them extensions, something so that they get the work done. And, in September I probably would have. But it's February. The year is more than half way over. They should know by now that assignments can be turned in ONE DAY late for up to 80% and that after that it's a 0. They should know that EVERY FRIDAY they have vocab quizzes and that every other week they need to write 1 page about their SSR book. They are freshman; it shouldn't be on my shoulders anymore.
One of the things we have to do at my school is contact parents if students are at risk of failing. I'm not making 23 phone calls. No way; I'd be on the phone until 11pm.
So, tomorrow morning, I'm printing out these grade reports. Our grading program even adds a line for parent signature. Every student will be bringing these back signed or they will get a detention, and during that detention we will call parents together to explain why the student is failing.
I started this post with the idea that I might be able to convince myself that there is more I could or should do, but I can't. If I coddle these kids, they're going to fail completely next year. It's a catch 22.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Creative Writing Days
One of the best parts about my Creative Writing Class is that I get the chance to write with the students. I don't get to focus as much or as long as I would like because there are questions, calls from the office, and other interruptions. So, here's the writing I did this week ...
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
The Chair
"A character arrives at work to find her chair missing. What happened to it?" ~from The Pocket Muse
Penelope walked into her small, organized cubicle as she had everyday for the past five years. She put her purse under the counter on the left, and her cup of hazelnut coffee on top of the small plastic organizer in the front, left corner. She pulled her jacket off one sleeve at a time, right first then left. She turned, to drape her jacket on the back of her ... "Where is my chair?" She wondered aloud. Penelope turned one full circle in her cubicle, but did not see her chair. Her head snapped from side to side as she examined all of her other neatly placed belongings.
Her computer sat as it always did, in the middle of the right counter. Next to it sat a photo of Penelope with her fiance on the day he proposed. The felt-backed walls were bare except for the Grey's Anatomy calendar on the month of June. Everything was there, in its place. Except her chair.
Since she was the first to arrive at the office, Penelope walked out of her cubicle and looked around. She stalked to the end of the long room and began making her way through each and every cubicle looking for her chair. When she reached the other end of the office, she turned sharply on her plum-purple Chanel heels and surveyed the room one more time.
Penelope, lost in thought, did not notice that the office began to fill as other employees filed into their own cubicles. A steady tap-tap-tap began to register and she was yanked from her meditative state back to reality by the sound of her supervisor's voice.
"Penelope! What are you doing? It's the busiest time of the year for us, and you're just standing there. You're the best sales-rep we have, and you're losing commission right now!"
She stared for a moment at the stout man in front of her and then studied the room once more. "I'll be happy to go back to work, sir, when my chair is returned."
"Your chair?"
Penelope explained her morning in a rather irritated voice, though that was not unusual for her. Her boss tried to interject several times, but Penelope kept talking with no regard for the man in front of her. She finished the story saying, "So, you see, I cannot be expected to work under these conditions! No chair, no calls."
The little man in front her stood with his mouth agape as she sauntered away to collect her belongings. When she reached her meticulously organized cubicle, Penelope noticed something unusual. Her chair, missing only an hour before, was back. It was no longer the icky brown color to which she had been forced to grow accustomed. Instead, it was the same brilliant shade of purple as her favorite Chanel heels. She spun around looking for the person who might have delivered this beautiful gift, and nearly knocked out her supervisor.
"You didn't let me finish, Ms. Purcot. We sent your chair out last night to be reupholstered for you. After all, the site manager needs a chair fit for a queen."
Penelope Purcot smiled sweetly, sat down, and took a celebratory spin in her new managerial chair. This day had potential.
Penelope walked into her small, organized cubicle as she had everyday for the past five years. She put her purse under the counter on the left, and her cup of hazelnut coffee on top of the small plastic organizer in the front, left corner. She pulled her jacket off one sleeve at a time, right first then left. She turned, to drape her jacket on the back of her ... "Where is my chair?" She wondered aloud. Penelope turned one full circle in her cubicle, but did not see her chair. Her head snapped from side to side as she examined all of her other neatly placed belongings.
Her computer sat as it always did, in the middle of the right counter. Next to it sat a photo of Penelope with her fiance on the day he proposed. The felt-backed walls were bare except for the Grey's Anatomy calendar on the month of June. Everything was there, in its place. Except her chair.
Since she was the first to arrive at the office, Penelope walked out of her cubicle and looked around. She stalked to the end of the long room and began making her way through each and every cubicle looking for her chair. When she reached the other end of the office, she turned sharply on her plum-purple Chanel heels and surveyed the room one more time.
Penelope, lost in thought, did not notice that the office began to fill as other employees filed into their own cubicles. A steady tap-tap-tap began to register and she was yanked from her meditative state back to reality by the sound of her supervisor's voice.
"Penelope! What are you doing? It's the busiest time of the year for us, and you're just standing there. You're the best sales-rep we have, and you're losing commission right now!"
She stared for a moment at the stout man in front of her and then studied the room once more. "I'll be happy to go back to work, sir, when my chair is returned."
"Your chair?"
Penelope explained her morning in a rather irritated voice, though that was not unusual for her. Her boss tried to interject several times, but Penelope kept talking with no regard for the man in front of her. She finished the story saying, "So, you see, I cannot be expected to work under these conditions! No chair, no calls."
The little man in front her stood with his mouth agape as she sauntered away to collect her belongings. When she reached her meticulously organized cubicle, Penelope noticed something unusual. Her chair, missing only an hour before, was back. It was no longer the icky brown color to which she had been forced to grow accustomed. Instead, it was the same brilliant shade of purple as her favorite Chanel heels. She spun around looking for the person who might have delivered this beautiful gift, and nearly knocked out her supervisor.
"You didn't let me finish, Ms. Purcot. We sent your chair out last night to be reupholstered for you. After all, the site manager needs a chair fit for a queen."
Penelope Purcot smiled sweetly, sat down, and took a celebratory spin in her new managerial chair. This day had potential.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
The Next Shirley Temple
When I was little, my grandmother used to wrap my hair in rags over night to produce very distinct, perfect, Shirley Temple curls. My family never misses an opportunity to remind me that I knew all of the words to Animal Crackers by the time I was 3. While other toddlers watched Sesame Street, I watched Heidi and A Little Princess over and over and over. I was going to be the next Shirley Temple.
I never took dance lessons, or voice lessons, but I got a microphone for Christmas one year, and that was enough. I remember standing in the middle of the kitchen, singing I’m a Little Teapot, Do re mi, and Over the Rainbow to the throngs of fans I imagined in the cupboards. The microphone itself stood about three feet, and the base held three, foot pedal-buttons. The first button turned the toy off and on, another button created an echo, and the third – my personal favorite – sent the sounds of cheering and applause across the kitchen on my command. In my peanut-sized brain, the adoring audiences of that third button waited with bated breath for my next song.
I don’t remember when my toy broke, but it did eventually. When that happened, I was forced to put on my dress shoes and create my own versions of tap-dance for my Nana. Shirley Temple, after all, was a triple threat, and I needed to be as well.
I never took dance lessons, or voice lessons, but I got a microphone for Christmas one year, and that was enough. I remember standing in the middle of the kitchen, singing I’m a Little Teapot, Do re mi, and Over the Rainbow to the throngs of fans I imagined in the cupboards. The microphone itself stood about three feet, and the base held three, foot pedal-buttons. The first button turned the toy off and on, another button created an echo, and the third – my personal favorite – sent the sounds of cheering and applause across the kitchen on my command. In my peanut-sized brain, the adoring audiences of that third button waited with bated breath for my next song.
I don’t remember when my toy broke, but it did eventually. When that happened, I was forced to put on my dress shoes and create my own versions of tap-dance for my Nana. Shirley Temple, after all, was a triple threat, and I needed to be as well.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Welcome to Creative Writing
I started teaching creative writing this week. I was wicked nervous about the whole thing - new class, new students, no real idea about what I'm doing, and anxiety over whether or not they would actually be into writing.
Second block came on Wednesday and it basically made my entire week.
Why, you might be asking yourself, am I discussing this in a post for class? Well, pretty much everything I've done since the Maine Writing Project has prepared me for this class; for teaching this class. We wrote ourselves into the day, we read Write Here, Write Now by Annie Dillard, we talked about reading books, and then we wrote some more. And you know, even though there were 23 bodies in my little classroom, when we were writing it was Silent with a capital S. I could not have asked for a better group of students or for them to be more enthusiastic.
I looked at them and said, "When you are in this room, you are a writer. I'm here to sort of guide you, but I'm learning as well. I'm still finding ways to be a better writer. And, I hope we can all do that together." What I expected to see what I looked up were glazed over or rolling eyes. What I saw instead, were smiles and eyes sparkling. Holy!!!!! Those 80 minutes seriously got me pumped for the rest of the semester; now my anxieties are all about how to fit in everything I want to do.
When I had that class again on Friday, I asked them to write me a letter telling me what they hope to get out of creative writing. Here are a few of the things they said:
1. A better idea of what writers do
2. Practice so that I can be a better writer
3. I want to be creatively stimulated
4. I hope to find the fun in writing again
5. I want to be more confident sharing with people
As tall as those orders are, I'm pretty confident we can do that!
Second block came on Wednesday and it basically made my entire week.
Why, you might be asking yourself, am I discussing this in a post for class? Well, pretty much everything I've done since the Maine Writing Project has prepared me for this class; for teaching this class. We wrote ourselves into the day, we read Write Here, Write Now by Annie Dillard, we talked about reading books, and then we wrote some more. And you know, even though there were 23 bodies in my little classroom, when we were writing it was Silent with a capital S. I could not have asked for a better group of students or for them to be more enthusiastic.
I looked at them and said, "When you are in this room, you are a writer. I'm here to sort of guide you, but I'm learning as well. I'm still finding ways to be a better writer. And, I hope we can all do that together." What I expected to see what I looked up were glazed over or rolling eyes. What I saw instead, were smiles and eyes sparkling. Holy!!!!! Those 80 minutes seriously got me pumped for the rest of the semester; now my anxieties are all about how to fit in everything I want to do.
When I had that class again on Friday, I asked them to write me a letter telling me what they hope to get out of creative writing. Here are a few of the things they said:
1. A better idea of what writers do
2. Practice so that I can be a better writer
3. I want to be creatively stimulated
4. I hope to find the fun in writing again
5. I want to be more confident sharing with people
As tall as those orders are, I'm pretty confident we can do that!
Friday, January 28, 2011
New classes for next year
I found out yesterday that I’m going to be teaching an AP class next year. I’m going to be bringing AP Language and Comp to my school. I’m terrified, and excited, and feel like the work I’m doing on my master’s is perfect for this. Taking a class about writing and teaching writing the semester before I teach AP is pretty awesome timing. I’ve got so many things to think about, so many resources to look at, and so many people to use as resources.
I think that thing I’m scared about most is that I haven’t taught an upper level class since long-term subbing four years ago. I have worked with 8th and 9th graders, and I enjoy that work, but it’s not entirely challenging intellectually. I don’t really leave thinking about the stuff we read or what the kid’s write. They’re at a really basic level. I guess what I’m really scared of is teaching kids who are smarter than I am. With younger grades you almost always have a leg up, but it’s not always like that with an AP or upper-level course. At the same time, though, that’s exciting.
I miss the discussions about literature and writing. I like being presented with new ideas and challenges. I’m going to be a student just as much as the kids in my class will be.
It’s going to be a ton of work, but good work. Work that’s worth it. And, as sad as this might sound, it’s one more thing to put on my resume. I’ve only been teaching for four years, but my career is pretty kick ass already.
I think that thing I’m scared about most is that I haven’t taught an upper level class since long-term subbing four years ago. I have worked with 8th and 9th graders, and I enjoy that work, but it’s not entirely challenging intellectually. I don’t really leave thinking about the stuff we read or what the kid’s write. They’re at a really basic level. I guess what I’m really scared of is teaching kids who are smarter than I am. With younger grades you almost always have a leg up, but it’s not always like that with an AP or upper-level course. At the same time, though, that’s exciting.
I miss the discussions about literature and writing. I like being presented with new ideas and challenges. I’m going to be a student just as much as the kids in my class will be.
It’s going to be a ton of work, but good work. Work that’s worth it. And, as sad as this might sound, it’s one more thing to put on my resume. I’ve only been teaching for four years, but my career is pretty kick ass already.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
The Letter
A piece for my Writing and the Teaching of Writing class, inspired by The Pocket Muse.
**********
It’s hard to say who failed the friendship; I think in a lot of ways, we both did. We went from best friends to nothing in a little over a year. From planning graduation as class officers to avoiding one another at the theater. I want to say that She failed me, and I think a lot of people would agree. But, somehow, I’m just not sure it’s fair to place all of the blame there.
She went back to school for an extra semester; I looked for teaching jobs. She starred in plays; I drove the two hours to see everyone. She stopped returning calls; I kept making them. She didn’t come to my show; I was disappointed. And then, our friendship came unraveled.
“I never demanded that you attend one of my shows, so I’m offended that you would do that to me,” she wrote.
“I didn’t demand. I just said I would be disappointed if you missed it. I’m sorry,” I replied.
And then there was silence. No emails, no phone calls. Nothing. Until August 31.
A thick envelope came in the mail from Her. Six pages thick, and full of single-spaced typing. Six pages full of words that said, “I love you, and I think you need to know.” Know what?
You’re a follower.
You love theater because I do.
You’re too negative.
I don’t care about looks, but your lifestyle is unhealthy. Maybe if you ate better and exercised more, you’d be happier.
You complain too much.
But, I love you.
I hope you do not choose to sever all ties.
My heart shattered and splintered and burst out of my chest. She loved me? She loved me so much, She wrote down every little flaw? For six, single-spaced pages. But, She didn’t want to cut all ties? Well, I did.
I wanted to hurt her back. I wanted to make her feel the empty, broken, betrayed way I felt. And, I would have been easy. For every flaw in my, I could have named two in her. But, I didn’t. No. Instead, I tucked the letter in a drawer. Every single day for three months I thought about that letter. About Her. It never got easier and the six pages haunted and daunted me. Until I tore them up and threw them away. Just like She had done to me. Then, I wrote my own, much shorter, letter.
If you love someone, you love all of them. Not just the parts you like.
Don’t sever ties? What did you think about happen by writing this?
The only thing I want from you is an apology, and until you see what you did was wrong, I’m not going to get that.
It’s been a little over 4 years since She sent the letter. I’ve seen her. Tried to be nice and say hello. She moves her seat in the auditorium to avoid sitting behind me. Or, She prances in front of me and runs out the door. What She’s never done is apologize.
I try to see things from Her point of view. After all, how can a friendship so important, just cease to exist? But, no matter how hard I try, I don’t get it. I’m not perfect, but no matter how I spin it, She failed me.
Because Digital Writing Matters
I’m about half way through Because Digital Writing Matters, and have mixed feelings. I remember hoping, when I read it, that Because Writing Matters would be this phenomenal book, and it wasn’t. It was disappointing because it talked all theory and had very few actual examples in it. Just a lot of statistics. So far, BDWM has been a lot better.
It’s a little dry, but I’ve found myself thinking a lot about how I can incorporate digital writing into my classes. Our freshman have 1 to 1 computers this year, so I have every opportunity to add digital writing, but it’s intimidating. The book points outs that digital writing can help kids find authentic audiences, learn what real writers do, and even teach them valuable revision tools. I want all of that for my students, but it also requires so much extra time and instruction to teach digital writing. With all of the things we’re asked to do, I wonder if I can find that time. It’s not something I can do large scale this year, I know that. But, I want to in the future.
I’ve been thinking about having my creative writing class work on a digital portfolio at the end of the semester. Maybe they can choose their favorite pieces and create podcasts or movies. Or, maybe as a final project, they can create movies of extended metaphor about what writing is like. I don’t know, but I know I need to find ways to redefine for my students and myself what writing is.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Curriculum and Writing
So, last spring, the English department at my school was tasked with creating ALL new curricula for every grade level. Essentially, students were not cutting it by the time they graduated. Many schools struggle with students not performing, but in our case it was a disproportionate number. The hope was that in changing things up, we would reach more kids, more effectively.
In terms of 9th and 10th grade, that meant throwing out what we did and starting over. It was amazing! I got to work with my colleague to choose and design and discuss what we WANTED to teach and how we would reach kids best. So far, it's been awesome! For juniors and seniors, well ... we went from year-long surveys to semester-long courses. In the fall, both juniors and seniors have taken Critical Reading and Writing. The concept? Great - they need to read and write critically. In practice? Too much content, too fast. In a week's time, we will move from these courses to electives (everything from Outdoor Lit to Creative Writing).
Today, during our faculty meeting, we spoke as a department about what changes we want to make in the CRW courses. There was basic consensus that instead of worrying about whether a kid has read 1984 or Hamlet, we need to focus on whether they can construct an effective essay. Even though most of us agreed, there was dissension - a few teachers who push for the "classics" to be taught to every kid.
Since I'm taking Writing and the Teaching of Writing, I piped in and suggested that perhaps a focus on writing would be good. In the junior year there is a huge focus on SAT Prep (barf). Rather than focusing solely on SAT essays, why not teach kids how to write effectively in REAL LIFE?? Isn't that the point? What good is it if they can construct a lackluster essay for a test if they can't string together an analysis? Is it important to read the classics or learn to express yourself?
It boggles my mind when we get so focused on content (isn't that what reading one particular title is, essentially?) if kids can't critically write? Don't they need to write to think, solve, educate, communicate, and so on before they can truly read and interact with a text?
Reading and writing go hand-in-hand, and they're both important. But, if writing is a tool for thinking, and we want kids to think about texts, where do we start? What came first, the chicken or the egg?
So much to think about.
In terms of 9th and 10th grade, that meant throwing out what we did and starting over. It was amazing! I got to work with my colleague to choose and design and discuss what we WANTED to teach and how we would reach kids best. So far, it's been awesome! For juniors and seniors, well ... we went from year-long surveys to semester-long courses. In the fall, both juniors and seniors have taken Critical Reading and Writing. The concept? Great - they need to read and write critically. In practice? Too much content, too fast. In a week's time, we will move from these courses to electives (everything from Outdoor Lit to Creative Writing).
Today, during our faculty meeting, we spoke as a department about what changes we want to make in the CRW courses. There was basic consensus that instead of worrying about whether a kid has read 1984 or Hamlet, we need to focus on whether they can construct an effective essay. Even though most of us agreed, there was dissension - a few teachers who push for the "classics" to be taught to every kid.
Since I'm taking Writing and the Teaching of Writing, I piped in and suggested that perhaps a focus on writing would be good. In the junior year there is a huge focus on SAT Prep (barf). Rather than focusing solely on SAT essays, why not teach kids how to write effectively in REAL LIFE?? Isn't that the point? What good is it if they can construct a lackluster essay for a test if they can't string together an analysis? Is it important to read the classics or learn to express yourself?
It boggles my mind when we get so focused on content (isn't that what reading one particular title is, essentially?) if kids can't critically write? Don't they need to write to think, solve, educate, communicate, and so on before they can truly read and interact with a text?
Reading and writing go hand-in-hand, and they're both important. But, if writing is a tool for thinking, and we want kids to think about texts, where do we start? What came first, the chicken or the egg?
So much to think about.
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