The Hero's Journey and Potty Training

Last week I started a unit on the hero's journey with my writing center class. I feel for the kids in it because they are all doubled-up on English this semester. We've written two essays, read Lord of the Flies, and three of my five students have HUGE projects due for senior English. So, I compromised with them and we're using two films to study the hero's journey: The Lion King and Avatar. Brilliant, I know :)

So, anyway, on Thursday of last week we started watching The Lion King. There is something intensely fun about watching such a childhood movie with high school students. It's just amazing when a senior girl and a senior boy can't stop saying, "I love this movie!" So do I. But, watching the movie is not the reason for this post. A story told to me by one of my senior boys is, and it goes something like this:

Student: I was potty trained with The Lion King.

Me: What?

Student: When I was little, my parents bought me Lion King undies and told me that Simba would bite something off if I peed in them.

Everyone in the room: **hysterical laughter**

Me: (after the laughing subsided) What would you have done if they had said Scar would bite something off?

Student: Oh. That would have been traumatizing!

Pretty much one of the best things I've heard as a teacher ... so I needed to share!

Hope Drove Me to School - Conclusion

Here is the last part of the essay from the previous post.

I always know, intellectually, that I’ll survive. I've managed to overcome a lot of terrible things in my life, and I know that I can handle whatever comes my way. I’ve been in situations where I have told myself again and again that I just need to be patient because it will get better. I have told myself to have hope. But, to feel that? To sense in my body, in every fiber of who I am, that I will be OK? I felt empowered and liberated. I stopped feeling frustrated with myself, and just let myself go. I gave up control, and I found hope.

Was I magically cured of these feelings of loss and uncertainty? Absolutely not. They were still very real and very present, but I figured out that was OK. In a day or two, or more maybe, it would get better. It would be more than better because somehow, among this fear of loss, I had gained something powerful.

During my drive to school, I acknowledged that I don't do things half way. Nothing in my life gets less than 100% of my attention and effort. That's who I am, who I've always been, and who I'll always be. Most of the time, this particular quality serves me very well. Emotionally, though, it can take its toll.

It’s easy, and appreciated, to be a person who invariably follows through. It's exhausting to be a person who goes all way with her emotions. For me, being a good teacher means that I have to give all of myself all of the time. For 180 days every year, I let myself fall in love with my job. I work to teach my students about literature and writing, but I try just as hard to teach them about relationships and people, to teach them about life. Teaching them about life means letting myself care in ways that can hurt. It means building relationships with them that can get lost in the end.

When a student in my class deals with death, I don’t just cry for him; I cry with him. When a student succeeds, I don’t say, “congratulations”; I celebrate with her. I open myself up to my students in every way I can, and that makes me a better teacher. It makes me a better person. Letting my students see that I’m a human, and engaging with them in meaningful ways requires me to let myself get attached, even though it might hurt in the end. But, when a student runs up to me at the movies in the middle of July to say hello, or throws her arms around me on the last day of school to say “thank you,” I know it’s worth it.

This ending didn’t feel different than any other I’ve faced. It isn’t different than endings I will face in the future. Endings are sad, and then we move on. And, in the car I realized that my job is perfect for a person who has difficulty with endings.

Every year I get to fall in love with my job and my students all over again. I say goodbye in June, and I mourn that ending every year, thinking that I will never find the same sense of connection; thinking I will never have a class I love that much again. Then, at some point, usually in the late fall, I get that back. I share experiences with students that are different than before, but just as special and just as gratifying and just as important.

I'm not going to say that I'll never feel hopeless again, because I will. There are certain types of pain that take away the epiphany I had in the car because you can't quantify them. However, that old cliché, "this, too, shall pass" became absolutely clear to me in the car that morning.

It brought me hope.

With every chapter we finish, or window or door we close, we hope that the next to open will be provide something brighter. We hope there will be more. We hope it will make us better, make us happier, make us stronger. As teachers, when we close the door of our classrooms in June, we hope for a better class the next year, or that our budgets don’t get cut. The best teachers hope that we are making a difference.

Part of life is recognizing that our desires, expectations, and goals might be unrealistic. Maybe hope is deciding to embrace those expectations anyway. And, if we’re very lucky, maybe hope will carry us through the summer until September, when we walk into class and see a new group of anxious, endearing faces.

Hope Drove Me to School - Part 1

As I drove home from the gym tonight, I began thinking about this blog. I tried to remember when the last time I posted was, but couldn't. So, once home, I checked. I fail - big time. It's been over two weeks since I posted, and the last post was nothing but a link.

I've been super busy lately, and so I haven't had time to come up with a new post at all. As such, I've decided to share a little something I wrote this past summer. I took a class, for my master's degree, call the Northeast Writing Institute (NeWI). Basically, for one whole week, I got to work on my own writing. I chose a piece, and worked on it tirelessly, getting feedback from classmates and instructors (one of whom was my favorite teacher in high school). I got pretty frustrated over the course of that week, but it paid off hugely. In the end, I was left with an essay of which I'm proud. It says a lot, I think, about me as a person and as a teacher. So, here is the first part of said essay (the rest shall follow shortly) ....
_____________________________________________________

Hope Drove Me to School

Endings aren’t always happily ever after. They’re not always sad, either. They’re change. When something ends, we adjust. We move on. We modify our lives to fill in the hole that’s left behind with something different or new or better.

The spring, a time of renewal and beginnings for most, is a time of endings for teachers. We close our classrooms, pack away the supplies, and reflect on the year we have just finished. In late August, we start all over again ready to present fresh, improved lessons and ideas to our shiny, new students. We don’t know what will succeed, what will fail, or what will leave us feeling completely lost. We take chances, and amidst all of the tumult and uncertainty, one thing remains constant. Hope.

Every year, the end of school is especially hard for me. Many people don’t understand that. Some teachers count the days to school’s end along with their students, and people who are not educators often joke that we teach just for the vacations. At the end of the year, though, I have to say goodbye to the students I’ve grown to love, and to the communities built with them, and it’s hard.

When I pulled away from the Old Town High School parking lot, having just finished my third year teaching English, as usual, I was in tears. I could feel everything changing, and although I expected it, I was somehow surprised at how helpless it made me feel. I sat in my car, glad it knew where to go, not wanting the year to be over. So many wonderful things came out of the year, and I was afraid this closing would end them completely.

My dear friend, and our literacy intern, would no longer be at Old Town High School three days a week. Our verbal banter, and the feeling of comfort his presence brings, would be gone. The sense of support and the reminder of the summer institute where we met would be gone as well. I would no longer be able to walk into the literacy office and see him there, or joke with him, or trade teaching ideas with him. My biggest fear, though, was the fear that I would lose the potential that this relationship offered.

The writing center I had worked so hard to open was now closed for the summer. The supplies were all tucked away, the bulletin board cleared of any notices. None of the fabulous student-tutors were sitting behind tables ready to help. This place of activity and enthusiasm was now dull and vacant.

None of the students to whom I had grown so attached would be mine anymore. They would move on in September to new teachers and new classes filled with new and different students. I could no longer call them “my kids,” and despite, or perhaps because of that reality gnawing at my insides, I was forced to move forward.

Perhaps my biggest anxiety as I drove away from my second year at Old Town High School was the loss of connection with new and wonderful colleagues, and friends. Would I see them enough to maintain these new, developing friendships? Would next year be the same? Would we have things to talk about now that our classes, classrooms, and students were changing? Would they all even be back in September? These questions circled my thoughts, and leaked out of my eyes. They were all I could think of that night, and into the next day.

When I left school, crying, I felt frustrated with myself. I knew intellectually that most of my fears were completely unfounded; that they may be emotionally legitimate, but that in all actuality many of them would never transpire. Emotionally, though, I was terrified that these fears would be realized, and it made my stomach turn in on itself. I felt helpless and alone and desperate to feel secure again. I felt lost, and like a child. I needed, and I wanted, someone to comfort me.

The truth, though, is that I’m a 26-year-old woman. I don’t have a Mom at home to hug me and brush the hair from my eyes. I don’t have a Dad there to take me by the hand and lead me through the hurt as unscathed as possible. I have me, and in these moments I needed to be enough. There was no one to understand what I was feeling because it was personal, specific to me and who I am; it was a hurt all my own, and one that I needed to work through myself. This reality made my drive home even more tough, more lonely, and more disorienting.

I slept with these fears, wanting them to dissipate, knowing they would be right there with the alarm. I got ready for a day of curriculum work slowly, thinking about my fears. I dried my hair, got dressed, fed my dog, ate my breakfast, and began the drive to school all while replaying, over and over again, the sorrowful endings creating a jagged hole in my chest.

I had felt incredibly bad the night before and that morning. Songs I usually belted along with brought me to tears. Then, on a straight, flat stretch of Interstate 95, my foot on the gas pedal, and Next to Normal blaring through my car speakers, I realized something that I've never given much thought. Without thinking, I said to myself, "It’ll be better in a day or two." Those eight words actually made my eyes pop and I shook my head. Eight little words brought me hope.

In that moment, I gave myself permission to feel bad for a while, to cry even, because I knew, and I felt, that I would feel better. I thought of other times in my life when I’ve felt desperate or helpless or inconsolable. I thought of the day my mother died, of the betrayal of my best friends. I remembered all of the other goodbyes I had said, and I knew. I knew I had made it through those experiences, and that I would make it through this one too.

Show and Tell

I wanted to share this. It was sent to me by our school's literacy coach, and my dear friend. It's pretty powerful stuff.

Pass and Fail

I have failed, for the last few weeks, at keeping this thing updated. It's not because I've given up, it's because the year has been so hectic.

There are good weeks, and then there are weeks when I wonder what I was thinking becoming a teacher. I frequently miss former students, sometimes whole classes.

I have especially begun missing my first group of kids ever. They are juniors now, and thanks to facebook I'm still able to keep tabs on them. Most of the time that's wonderful, but other times it makes me incredibly sad. I miss them, and I find myself wondering what kind of, if any, impression I left on them. Did I really teach them anything? Did they leave my classroom knowing more, or as better people?

I want the answer to that to be yes, but how can I ever really know the answer? It's something I struggle with when thinking of past and present students. I teach them, I hope; I give them assessments and grade those; but, really, what is the measure of my success as a teacher? What test or essay or project can indicate whether or not I am effective?

One of the things that make my job rewarding is when, like today, a former student walks into my room saying, "I need help with this essay." I feel special, and important, when they come back to me for support. Is that wrong? Is it strange that I want my students to need me for more than just what happens in my room?

I love it when K. comes to me to vent about her English teacher, and I have to hug her because she's crying. It makes my day when a student I've never even had for class walks into my room and says, "Can I just vent for a minute?" I feel important and needed when D. comes in at 3:30 needing help with her Separate Peace paper. I don't want these kids to feel sad or angry or any other negative emotion, but when they do, and they come to me - there's nothing quite like it.

So ... I guess what this whole post means is that I've been so busy trying to make sure I'm doing a good job at my job that I've failed to post anything here.

When kids are cruel

I discovered today that sometimes kids are just plain cruel. I have always known that kids, especially teenagers, have the capacity to be mean. They can destroy each other with a glance or a few words. I did not, however, know that they would be willing to do these things in the middle of English class.

We are preparing to start Laurie Halse Anderson's Speak. As part of our front-loading, we are working out what stereotypes are, how they influence us, and how they can be absolutely heart-breaking. So, today, we showed students the clip in Mean Girls where Damion and Janice provide Cady with a map to the cafeteria. It's a humorous clip, and also very insightful in terms of labels, stereotypes, and cliques in high schools.

After watching it, we discussed - briefly - what cliques are. The definition we decided upon are groups that are exclusive. One student began to share a story about how she and her friends pulled a mean girls thing in 6th grade - only inviting certain people to sit with them. Before she could finish another student piped in that their group had been awful to other students. Then the term punk started getting thrown around in a hostile way. I redirected.

We worked on an anticipation guide. I thought it would be safe, but I was wrong. Epic fail. The anticipation guide brought out the claws in these kids, and I did NOT like what I saw. I saw students saying teachers can't be trusted because they gossip too much. I heard them saying that if a girl dresses provocatively, she deserves whatever negative attention she gets. I also saw them start insulting each other - and me - in a very obvious way.

Clearly, I stopped the activity and very sternly spoke to the students. Even after telling them being mean is the quickest way to be removed from my class, they snickered at and bickered with one another. I have never been more appalled at my own students.

I'm actually nervous about this unit now. How am I supposed to teach them about tolerance and kindness? I'm worrying that they're going to start a riot ... Obviously they need the lessons we've prepared, but how many of them are actually going to "get it"?

I can't leave this post there. I don't want it to sound as though all of my freshman reacted so poorly; they didn't. In fact, two of the three classes who did this activity today were amazing. They might not always practice what they preach, but at least they were preaching it.

So, while I am super worried about one class and whether or not they are going to appreciate the unit we are starting, I have hope that teenagers aren't all cruel. Some of them are very kind, very wise, and very good.

Beware of dreary days and new skirts

This post is dedicated to anyone who has ever had the dream that they show up to school, or work, or life naked. (I will tell you now that this an absolutely true story - I couldn't make this up). Enjoy ...

It was a dreary day in Maine. The sun was hiding, and the threat of rain lingered as the lunch bell rang. The morning had been normal - meeting, writing center class, first freshman class. Nothing extraordinary happened, and there was no reason to think that this day would be special for me at all.

After sending all of the freshman to lunch, Meg and Sara came to my room so that we could enjoy lunch and conversation. The morning had been so packed, however, that there had been no time to use bathroom! It was an emergency. And so, before I could enjoy the chicken and noodle lunch I had waiting, I needed to go from my portable to the main building.

As I hurried through the courtyard, I was heckled by several shop students. They were outside completing the shed their class worked on as a project. "Hi, Mrs. D," one yelled. "There's no ring on this finger! It's Ms. D," I retorted while wiggling my hand in his direction. The student wanted to annoy me, but it didn't work. I was too focused on getting to the restroom.

When I finished washing my hands, I adjusted my nylons and the brand-new, Old Navy, jersey skirt I had chosen as the day's outfit. With a final glance in the mirror, I rushed out the doors and back into the courtyard, where the shop students continued to work and our JMG specialist walked to his car.

Less than ten feet out the door, I felt something strange at my knees. All of a sudden, the freedom a skirt gives was gone. Something constricted my legs. I glanced down to check and ... well ... the waist of my skirt was at my knees.

That's right. My skirt had fallen down, leaving my nylons and panties free for all to see!

I panicked, of course, yanked the skirt up, and frantically looked to see who was laughing at me. You know what? Not one person had seen my catastrophe. Not one. Immediately relieved, I jogged back to my room, laughing hysterically. Try explaining that laughter to your co-workers and friends. Did I get sympathy? Heck, no, and if it had been someone else, I wouldn't have been sympathetic! I got, "the only thing that would have made that better is if you fell!" Darn right!

This event, though potentially tragic, brought laughter to many people today. Most of us needed it desperately. I learned a few things as well.

1. Laughing at yourself in an embarrassing moment is far more productive than tears or anger.
2. Sharing your disasters is therapeutic for both you and your audience.
3. My Nana was right - you should always wear good, clean panties. You never know who might see them!

On class advising

Well, I broke my own goal last week. No post. However, I have forgiven myself as my reasons are legitimate and acceptable. Reason #1 is that I was sick last weekend with bronchitis, and I even took Monday off from school. Reason #2 is that it was homecoming week at school, and as a class adviser, I had to supervise construction of the float for the class of 2012. Which brings me to the topic of this post: being involved at school (and knowing when you need help).

When I interviewed for my current job, I made it a point to say that being a class adviser was something in which I was interested. Next thing I know, I'm hired and given the freshman class to advise. It was awful that first year. I had no idea about homecoming, or the fact that each class builds a float for a town parade. Nor did I know how to fundraise. I. Knew. Nothing. And worse, no one helped me.

I literally begged for help that first year; help to supervise activities, help to organize fundraisers, help with ANYTHING. No one could/would help me. In fact, most of the time, the emails I sent to ask for help were ignored completely. In retrospect this was the best thing that could have happened. Since the class officers and I had to figure it out on our own, we are now a well-oiled machine with lots of know-how. Last year was easier in terms of knowing what to do and when, but I still struggled with trying to find help from other teachers. This year? Best year yet.

Another newer teacher at my school, who taught nearly all of the 2012 kids last year, helped with our float every night! In fact, because I was sick, she was there more than I was! There's no way, and I'm serious here, that our float would have gotten done without Sara. She helped us organize, construct, clean, and make a BEAUTIFUL FIRST-PLACE Cat in the Hat float. It was so great for the kids, and even better for me! I got to spend every evening with amazing students and one of my favorite colleagues. Our float was beautiful, but even if it hadn't been, we still would have been winners. We would have been winners for a lot of reasons, but here are just a few:

1. The class of 2012 and the freshman class worked together better than anyone could have imagined. They shared materials, helped each other build, and even took turns getting each other pizza. It was great to see them be so kind.
2. Spending time with students outside of teaching time is an important part of education. They need to know we care, and that we are human. I get more respect from students after they see me doing something to make their experience better (like building a float).
3. It's just fun. The kids who come to do these extra things are the kids who go the extra mile, and it's so neat to hang out with them and talk about more than English class.

The first year I took the role of class adviser, I thought I was nuts. Now? I can't imagine letting someone else be in charge of my class. There's a sense of pride when they succeed that I wouldn't have without the extra time I spend with them. I dread the long days of float-building week, but the time I spend working with the students definitely makes it worth it.

Go team!

I was on my way to bed (10 minutes ago), when I decided to check my email one more time. That led to checking my favorite blog, which led me to my own blogger dashboard where I realized I was about to fail at my goal of at least one post per week. So, instead of reading, I'm writing. A fair trade, I think.

After my last post, some of you might be wondering how this past week went. I'm happy to report that it went well. The weather was fall-like, and both the students and I have begun to sink into a routine. I always seem to forget that the beginning of school, though exciting, is also terribly stressful. Compound the normal amount of back-to-school stress with a brand new schedule, a brand new freshman team structure, and a brand new curriculum, and you could potentially be asking for disaster. I, however, have discovered (though I already knew this) that I am one lucky girl. I have the best group of people to work with, and it makes all of those very stressful things seem much less daunting.

When our administration chose the teachers they wanted to man the two freshman teams, I truly believe they hand-picked us. There are around 40 teachers at my school, and the 8 manning these teams are pretty phenomenal when put together. I think that all of the staff at my school offer amazing things to students, but the 8 of us working on the teams compliment one another in great ways. Not only did they get a great spread for the whole thing, but they split us up perfectly. Here's a little run-down for you ...

Team T is very logical, very detail-oriented, and very flexibly-rigid (in a way that works well with the students). I guess, if I were trying to portray this team with a person I would choose Tom Selleck. Strong and sturdy, consistent, and super dependable, all while being approachable and willing to compromise.

Team O (my team) is not logical (in a good way), we pay attention to the details, and we are flexible (in a way that works well with the students). For this team, I would have to choose someone like John Travolta. Really a big teddy bear, but with a tough exterior. Able to be firm, but also able to turn into jello if it's called for.

I love my team. The team I'm on, both teams, and the other staff involved in our adventure (special ed teacher, literacy coach, admins). I feel very supported, and I know that when I have a problem with a student or parent, the others will be there to back me up. We are able to use one another as sounding boards to get ideas, share ideas, or just rant for a minute. It's different for me this year. I don't feel like I'm going at my teaching alone. In fact, I feel more supported than ever. Not only do I have a wonderful team on my side, but I have a fabulous friend and colleague in the English teacher on the other team.

She and I plan together. Check in on student progress together. Share a portable. And we generally have a great time too. We worked for countless hours last year planning a new curriculum, and to see it come to fruition is exciting and scary. Ms. W and I compliment one another really well. Instead of both of us being really good separately, we're AMAZING together.

I could keep going on this post and list all of the ways that I'm benefiting from our freshman teams, but it really boils down to this:

No teacher, or person, should have to go at school, or life, alone. We can be great alone, or extraordinary together. I can't imagine putting myself into a box, closing the door, and shutting everyone out. How lonely and sad. So, I choose extraordinary. Every time.

Too much, too fast

Well, the first week of school is over, and it was easily the toughest first week I've had in four years of teaching. I can't say it was all bad, because it wasn't. I may have suffered, but I also learned a really important lesson. Anyway . . . well, here's a run-down of the week.

Monday - Teacher day. I won an award for being AWESOME STAFF, got to catch up with colleagues, and I finished setting up my classroom. It was hot.

Tuesday - Freshman orientation. Even though we had the day planned out really well, things went wrong, but nothing huge. I met my homeroom and they were great. I spent the day with them, and with a former student who is a mentor for the freshman. It went well overall, but I was super stressed out the ENTIRE day. I barely remember what we did all day because I was out straight the whole time. That's what I get for being "too competent". Also, it was very hot.

Wednesday - First day for all students. Worst day of my teaching career. I thought I was going to be sick as I drove to school. I blamed it on the heat and being nervous. I walked into the teacher's room, and started crying. I spent the rest of the day going between tears and nausea. Sometime during the late afternoon my arms started tingling. I had class at the university at 5. I only stayed until 6, and then went to walk-in-care for the crying, tingly arms, and nausea. Diagnosis: panic attack caused by the list of things I need to do that seemed to keep growing and growing. Also, it was very, very hot.

Thursday - I hadn't slept for an entire night in about two weeks and I had barely functioned the day before. And so, I took the day off. I needed to be home and take care of myself, so I did. Best decision of my career. Oh, yeah, and it was very, very, very hot.

Friday - Feeling so much better, I went back to school and had a great day. Had fun with my classes, learned some names, and enjoyed the fresh breeze.

And so, you must be wondering by now what lesson I learned. It's simple really, and a must for all teachers (but especially new ones): say no. When you start to feel like you're taking on too much, you are. It's ok to say no. Taking on too much isn't healthy (trust me, I know), but it also means that your work suffers for it. And sometimes your mind and body too.

I've got a long weekend now which I plan to spend with books, tv, my bed, and family.

First Day Jitters

Remember that last post? The one about how excited I get about school? I think I might feel that way until the night before kids come, because right now I'm super nervous. Fluttery stomach, jiggly legs nervous. And it's not getting better.

I can't say for certain that it's the start of school alone bringing this on. That definitely plays into the nerves, but I also think I'm just very hesitant about everything on my plate right now. I took stock the other day after a colleague made the following comment:

"You've made a mistake. You showed us that you're too competent, and now we lean on you."

On the one hand: YAY me! That's a great compliment. On the other hand: uh oh. One more thing on my list. Speaking of said list, let's take a look at everything I'm responsible for this semester:

1. 5 academic classes (three preps and three brand new curriculums)
2. 10 practicum students from the university (working with me on the writing center)
3. Freshman teaming (brand new endeavor)
4.Grad school (Young Adult Lit and an independent study)
5. Presenting at a conference in October
6. Taking care of my Nana
7. The writing center at my school
8. One field experience student from the university
9. Adviser to the class of 2012 at school
10. All of the other things grown ups take care of

Phew. No wonder I'm nervous. And I think writing that list made it worse. As much as I love being active and involved, and despite the fact that I will inevitably get all of this done, I'm overwhelmed right now. It's like this every year, and yet I always forget the struggle. Usually the end result overshadows this time of stress and adjustment.

So, now, about to head to an early bedtime, I want to say:

Happy first days to all! (Remember to enjoy and to remind yourself that the first days are the toughest - that's what I'll be doing)

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

One of my favorite times of the year is fall. Somewhere around the first or second week of August, I begin to smell the signs of the changing season, and of school quickly approaching. I haven't changed one bit since I was kid, either.

Every year, for as far back as I can remember, the week leading up to the start of school is full of last minute appointments, school supply purchases, and sleepless nights. Ok, not actually sleepless, but less sleep than usual (and not because I'm getting up early). And it's already started for this year!

I went to bed with good intentions last night, and I was even pretty tired from some last minute school prep. But, per usual, as soon as the light went out and I was letting go of the day, my mind began to race.

What are my classes going to be like? What about the kids? Did I get that bulletin done? How many copies do I need to make? I wonder if I will get to see so-and-so at lunch again. Oh, oh, oh - still need to buy ____________, for that one class.

I can't tell you how frustrating, and utterly exciting this whole process is! One of the reasons that I know I love my job is because of this very excitement. When I stop looking forward to a new year, I'm getting out, STAT. The anticipation is what keeps me going; it's what keeps my teaching fresh and new.

There is nothing like the cooler temperatures, the changing color of the trees, a new outfit or two, and walking into a freshly-waxed classroom. It's my favorite time of year! It's the time of year I remind myself of during the March mud-season or when the kids have checked-out June 1st. It's the most wonderful time of the year!

Greetings, world!

I've been thinking about starting a blog on my teaching for a while now, and I've clearly decided to take the plunge. I have some ideas about what this thing will look like, but you know what they say about the best laid plans. So, I'm just going to blog.

My desire to blog about teaching started with the North East Writing Institute. I worked on a piece of writing there, for an entire week, that wound up representing me as a teacher (I'll post it soon). That, in turn, got me to thinking about publication and sharing my ideas with the world.

I start my fourth year of teaching in less than a week, and I have a lot to say. I have a lot to offer my students and my colleagues. But, because of my youth, I'm not always heard, or I'm not taken seriously. My theory is that with a blog, people can listen or not. And the huge plus here is that I don't need to watch them roll their eyes when I say what I think.

My goals at this point are simple:

1. Write at least one post a week
2. Write with honesty and sincerity
3. Do the first two of these goals, faithfully

So, here it goes. A Teacher in Progress**. I hope, if you've read this far, that you'll follow my journeys as a teacher. Follow me with the little link on the right, or just bookmark my blog. Let me know that you're out there! Leave a comment, if you want (telling me to shut up, keep talking, or what to talk about).

Fingers crossed!

**Special thanks to CW for helping me with the title!! <3

On Writing and NeWI

I spent all of last week in my first "official" graduate school class. The credits that I earned last summer count, but I wasn't admitted to a master's program yet, so that's where the "official" comes in. Back to this class thing ... it was NeWI (Northeast Writing Institute), and while the week was a struggle at many times, I was really happy in the end.

I spent the whole week with 12 other teachers, and writers exploring my own writing in the hopes of becoming a better teacher of writing. Having completed the Maine Writing Project Summer Institute last year, I have a background in the power of finding a group to share work with. We spent three weeks in the SI building trust, and sharing so when I showed my work to my writing group there, I was showing my work to a family. NeWI was different. Monday and Tuesday were a huge struggle for me.

Monday morning was great - meeting everyone, and reconnecting with my favorite teacher, Emilie. As a group, we talked about what makes writing hard and what makes it easy (an activity I did last summer). I was very much intrigued with that discussion, and plan to write another post about how we make writing hard for our students. Later on Monday, I was set loose to write. About anything I wanted, in whatever genre I chose. That was way too much freedom for me. Way. Too. Much. I literally spent the better part of the day creating random, lousy starts to pieces that would go nowhere. When I left on Monday, I went to school and picked up some books on writing with the hope that they would inspire me. Not so much. Terrible day, with nothing but a headache to show for it.

I went back on Tuesday feeling a little better, because I had decided to develop this post into something. It haunted me while I searched for something, so I figured I needed to work it. Tuesday morning was totally productive, and I just got it all out. I sent the draft to Mel and she gave me some great suggestions, which took me into Wednesday, where I hit the next hurdle.

Wednesday we were encouraged to pair or group up and begin workshopping. I didn't think I'd have trouble finding someone, but I did. We all shared what we were working on, and since mine lacked direction at that point, I was sort of left out when people began pairing up. I can take responsibility for that in some ways since I didn't really put myself out there all the way. But, I was left alone, and was so not productive. I did eat lunch with this year's MWPSI fellows, though, and felt energized by them.

Thursday I got guts. I sat down with Dave in the morning, and got some great feedback and advice about direction for my essay. I worked that, and then I sat down with Emilie. I knew her advice would be great, and helpful. I often think back to where I really learned to write, with my own voice and style, and it was her class. So, to be able to work with her again, in a different way was gratifying on so many levels.

She picked out problems I knew I had, but also had some great advice about how to address those problems. She helped me to give my essay some real shape and purpose in a way I don't think I would have done without "permission".

I was really, really happy with the essay I wrote, in large part thanks to the advice from Emilie. She told me to let myself be a little self-gratifying; to go ahead and say that I'm a good teacher. And that became the best part of my essay because it's what I was trying to say, but wasn't sure I should. The gist of my piece is this: I find saying goodbye to my student every year hard; I get so attached that in the end, it hurts. Letting myself become attached to students is what makes me a good teacher. And the best part of my job is that I get to fall in love with it every single year.

I was very humbled during my conversation with Emilie. It began as an essay about hope, and turned into an essay about how the best teachers let themselves care. The highlight of my week came at the end of our conference; the best teacher I have ever had looked at me and said, "It make me so happy that you're the kind of teacher you are."

It wound up being a really satisfying week for me. I love the essay I ended with, and really enjoyed what everyone else wrote as well. I'm excited to get the anthology they're going to make for us.

A student again.

I've been dreading summer vacation. And, yes, I know how that sounds. What kind of teacher dreads summer vacation?? Me. And here's why.

I dread not have a schedule. I definitely don't want to have to deal with students everyday, because I get sick of them. However, I function much better with some kind of schedule to keep. If i have somewhere to be, for even just a few hours, I'm happy. It's that simple. When I'm left to my own devices, I feel a little lost. There are too many things for me to do, and I get overwhelmed. I'm working on fixing that. I need to learn to just relax.

Anyway, I'm back to school in a few weeks. As in college school. I'll be spending the week of July 12 with the North East Writing Institute. I'm sure I'll be exhausted by the time those 5 days are over, so I should rest up now. Two weeks after that ends (Aug 2) I'll be in my second week-long class: Fiction Writing Seminar. When that's over, I have like 2 weeks and school starts again. When I think of it like that, there's not much summer. But, on a day-to-day it's a lot of free time that I'm somehow filling quickly.

In September I start an actual, semester-long class at UMO. I'll be taking young adult lit, and I have my work cut out for me. I emailed the professor for a book list so that I can get ahead, but she doesn't have it done yet. However, I have to read 8-10 self-select YAL books, so I've begun that. I read them anyway, so it's definitely not a chore. But, I do have to complete responses for each book I read. I get to chose whatever genre I want for the responses, so I'm going to try out projects I assign in class. I did my first today on A Wrinkle in Time. I just finished (2 hours after I started), and I'm pretty happy. I like that I'm doing things my students do. It reminds me, and shows me, how difficult some of my tasks are. It also reminds and shows me that sometimes, my tasks aren't hard enough, or they are just right and the kids blow them off. It's neat to be a student again. Here's the brochure I designed. What grade do you think it deserves?

Hope drove me to school

It's been almost a whole month since I posted anything, and it doesn't feel like it could possibly have been that long. Things get so hectic at the end of the school year, that a month goes by and it feels like a few days. There are so many things to do and think about that time goes by without my noticing. But, yesterday, when school ended, I noticed. Oh boy, did I notice.

If you read the last post I wrote, you'll see how reflexive and reflective I get in the spring. Yesterday was absolutely no exception to that rule. As per usual, I found myself crying when I pulled away from OTHS. I couldn't really pinpoint what made me emotional about school ending, and I'm still working on being able to verbalize that, but I think it comes down to this:

I have a hard time saying goodbye and an even harder time letting go and moving on.

I put all of myself into everything I do. I don't know how to do things half way (which I've discussed, at length, in other posts). Since I invest so much in people and situations, I often find myself feeling like things are anti-climactic (another word - though one I'm less fond of - is dissatisfied). I look at what I've invested, and what I get in return, and sometimes I kick myself in the butt. Why do I put so much into things that don't repay me? And then I remember, that's just who I am. I don't walk around doing things because of what I'll get from them in return; I do things because in the moment it feels good. Having a student throw her arms around me and squeeze might not be equal compensation for 180 days of my time, but it sure as hell reminds me why I put those days in.

When I left school yesterday - yep, crying (I'm sorry, Coty, I was), I felt frustrated with myself. I wanted to be able to verbalize and rationalize exactly why I felt so sad. I couldn't. That feeling lingered this morning as I drove back to OTHS to work on curriculum with Megan. The difference this morning was an epiphany I had in the car ...

I'm going to be OK. It will get better.

With my foot on the gas pedal, and Next to Normal blaring through my car speakers, I realized something that I've never given much thought to. I felt pretty bad last night and this morning. Songs, BROADWAY songs, were bringing me to tears. And all of a sudden, without thinking about it, I said to myself, "It will be better in a day or two." Those 9 words made me actually pop my eyes open and shake my head. Oh. My. God. Hope.

The last thing to come out of Pandora's box popped into my head and I didn't even have to try. All of a sudden I gave myself permission to feel bad for a while because I would get over it. I've gotten over a lot of really terrible things in my life. This hurt, though unnamed, will play its course and leave just like all of the ones before have.

Was I magically cured of the feelings? Absolutely not, but what I figured out is that that's OK. In a day or two, or more maybe, it will get better.

I'm not going to pretend that I'll never feel hopeless again, because I'm sure I will. There are certain types of pain that take away the epiphany I had this morning because you can't quantify them. However, that old cliche, "this, too, shall pass" became absolutely clear to me in the car this morning.

It brought me hope.

Maine Writing Project Teachers Open Writing Center - National Writing Project

Maine Writing Project Teachers Open Writing Center - National Writing Project

We're totally newsmakers.

Write on Track

Basically, you need to here to read about my week so far.

You should also know that one of my academic heroes has sent Matt, Mel, and I at least 3 emails today singing praises for the writing center project. He said in one, and yes I am quoting, "P.S. Another writing center chill." Basically makes my day that this man is so excited for us.

You should also, also know that this has been announced to National Writing Project folk and Maine Writing Project Folk. See.

You should also, also, ALSO know that we had our first student visit the writing center during second period today!!!!!!!!!!

You should also, also, also, also know how proud and humbled I feel to get to do this as my job. With some fabulously wonderful friends.

That is all.

Whale Talk - The End

Well, dearest reader of mine, the unit is over. Officially, 100% over. Discussions were had, journals were written, reflections were done, and the projects have been handed in (and are in the process of being graded). Its bitter sweet. The end of the year is nearly here (that's sweet), but our journey is over (that's bitter).

Over vacation the kids had to complete an in-depth character analysis project, and to my delight they didn't even complain about it! They had stickies shooting out of their books the Friday before break, and when we returned only 1 student was without a project (he never does anything, so I wasn't surprised). I also had papers due in two other classes, so I haven't begun grading the WT projects, but I'm super excited to read them!!

Anyway, with everything else done, I felt like we (me in particular) needed to wrap things up. Just saying, "the end" did not feel right. So, we did three things on Tuesday in class:

1. Chalk Talk (The kids each get a marker, and have to go around to pieces of poster paper and write responses. They can respond to each other or to the question. There is no talking. It's nice because it gives them ALL equal opportunity to say their peace)
2. Discussion (of the chalk talk)
3. Unit Evaluation

Our chalk talk questions were:





When we were done, we had this:




I was really, really impressed with their responses. I was most impressed, with how appalled they were at the thought of a book being banned.

We had a discussion for nearly 25 minutes JUST about book banning. A few kids wondered whether some topics would be TOO inappropriate for students, but couldn't come up with what. We even looked up the Top 10 Most Banned Books, and none of us could get it. I was really, really proud. I resisted the urge to insert my opinion, but I didn't need to anyway. My students really, really understood that it's not ok to censor people. Ever.

We didn't spend a lot of time on what they would ask Chris Crutcher (the author), because most of them wanted to know what inspired the novel. Maybe, just maybe, I'll write on their behalf and find out. Who knows?

The last chalk talk was what the characters can teach us. Again - Blow. Away.


I wasn't just blown away by their chalk talk either. We were short on time, so instead of addressing the actual poster, I went around the room and had each student tell me what they learned. It would be easy for freshman to blow this off and say silly things. Not this group. They said things like: "Don't judge a book by it's cover" and "Everyone has a story".

Our last order of business (if you've been paying attention), was a unit evaluation. When I do something totally new, I like to see what the kids think. It's something I learned from the fabulous Mrs. Manhart. Here's the evaluation (only the front; the back had open-ended questions):



I was so excited to see that the majority of them thought that our opening activity was EPIC. I worked so hard on that, for so long and it paid off. They also really enjoyed their reading journals. Most of the time, I just had them write their reactions, but the comment that I got from many was that they liked being able to say what they think. The thing they hated was vocab, which I basically knew. It could have been better, but was the last worry. I was most impressed that about half of them thought the character analysis project was EPIC. They actually enjoyed the project!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They liked it, they said, because the felt like they got to know the characters. Kids engaging in a novel - I'm dying over here. Seriously.

And, even though I haven't graded them, here are a few project photos. The cover needed to be creative and reflect the character.

I could keep going forever and ever and ever. I truly could, but I won't. In the interest of time, and energy, I will end this post with a few thoughts.

On the unit: I just loved it.
On my students: I love them.
On you reading this: Thank you!

On Whale Talk: Wow.

Unattainable

I've spent the past several days wanting, and needing, to write a post that isn't related to school. I've been inside my own head, trying to figure some things out. And now, here I sit at 8:30 on Friday night trying to decide whether the things I discovered inside my head are things that I can articulate. With two nights of insomnia behind me, I've decided that even if I fail, this is worth a shot.

I wrote a post about a month ago about faith. I just reread that post, and I'm not in the same place right now. I still have faith in a lot of things, but I'm discovering that I have to work, sometimes hard, to keep faith. I'm not alone here, I know. I know that faith is something you have to work at, and that in working at it, you build faith. But, at what point is it supposed to pay off?

We - especially young women - are bombarded with images of fairy tale endings in life and love. How often does that really happen? I know, I know. You can't believe everything you see, read, or hear. BUT, I often feel like we set ourselves up to fail in faith. We have, at least I have, expectations that are really not realistic.

Maybe part of faith is figuring out that our expectations are unrealistic. Maybe, just maybe, faith is deciding that reaching for something you may not attain is better than not trying at all.

Whale Talk - Day 10

I'm on vacation, which explains why this post is coming nearly 4 days after the class it's about. What can I say? I'm almost as bad as the kids when it comes to procrastination - only I don't wait until the actual night before to get things done.

Friday before vacation was bitter sweet. It was so, so sweet because it's vacation, and after the endurance run from February to April it's needed. It was bitter because Whale Talk is essentially over. The reading is done, we've discussed the characters and plot, and all that's really left are the projects assigned on day 4. So, that's what we did on Friday.

I went over the project, again, and answered a lot of questions. We talked about expectations, and the kids looked at examples of the same kind of analysis project on William Golding's Lord of the Flies. I think they rather enjoyed looking at examples because one of them belongs to me. Yes, I still have most of the work I did for British literature in 11th grade. I'm that kid, but it's come in handy several times.

Once we were done reviewing project guidelines, I gave the kids time to work. They used it - mostly. I helped some find passages, helped some with structure, and I also packed my stuff so I could peace out ASAP.

I won't see my honors class again until April 27 - a week and a half from the last class we had. I have high expectations for these projects, and I hope I haven't given myself expectations that are too high. Some of the kids in my class will, without a doubt, do excellent work, while others will do just enough to get by.

I really wish I had had more time to spend on this novel. I'm really sad that it's over, and while I love Shakespeare, somehow Romeo and Juliet doesn't seem like much of a follow-up act to this novel.

Whale Talk - Day 9

Yesterday was the class I had anticipated since we started reading this book. The kids were finally done with the novel, and we could talk about everything ... the full circle of the plot, the ending, just all of the things that I've had to avoid since we started. It was great. The whole time we were talking, I kept thinking to myself, "I should have taped this. I don't want to forget anything." Then, I starting thinking, "Just be here. Right now. Listen, you'll remember what's important." So, I decided to wait to write this post. I wanted to let everything settle, so that I could cover the most important things. There's so much more I could write here, but I still have two class periods to go through and reflect with the students. Stay tuned to see the final, final moments.

_________________________________________

We started class with a 3ish minute think time for the students; I asked them to write down the words, and phrase that they thought of when they finished the novel. This is what we came up with:


Some of them were really dissatisfied with the end of the novel, but they also weren't entirely sure what had happened throughout the whole thing. So, we started at the beginning of the reading (chapter 14). It wasn't the most exciting chapter, but some great and very important things happened. One included Heidi (Rich Marshall's stepdaughter - biracial stepdaughter). She scrubbed her arm with a brillo pad. Until it was raw. The silence in my classroom when we talked about that was so loud. That topic didn't last long, because we moved on to discuss Heidi's mother, Alicia.

It was Alicia who brought Heidi around Rich. In the eyes of my ninth grade students she's just as bad, if not worse that Rich. She, according to them, is supposed to protect her kids no matter what. She shouldn't get the second chance given by the Jones family. One student blew me away, though. She brought up how hard it would be to just cut Rich out. That doing so could be just as bad for Heidi as having him around, because he's a dangerous guy. Still, though, they didn't think Alicia should be around her kids at all because she goes back to Rich over and over. Then, Ms. Davis jumped in ...

I watch enough SVU to know that taking a child away from everything she knows is just as bad as having one abusive parent. It's hard to explain that to kids, though. They can't wrap their heads easily around the idea that people who make mistakes don't always learn from them the first time. There are some who still don't like Alicia, and who think she needs to be locked away, but they considered her point of view, and that's what I wanted.


Some other conclusions drawn during our discussion of chapter 14:
- Chris Coughlin is a big deal - and he LOVES TJ Jones.
- Mr. Simet's speech at the winter sports banquet shows the very best things about all of the Mermen.
- Icko is the man.
- The Tao Jones showed us what The Tao is about.

Most of our discussion surrounded the climax of the novel (which I refuse to give away, although I'm dying to - go read the book, so that we can talk!). If I try to sit here and write about what we said, I'm inevitably going to give something away, so I'll tell you the following:

In reading the climax, a girl who "hated" this book cried, a class that talks constantly was dead silent, and we all heard a little whale talk in the advice "not one minute for revenge".

One more found poem ...

I got this late, but it's too good NOT to share.

A Found Poem inspired by Whale Talk
By J.O.
Superman
A symbol of the universe.
As pale as chicken gravy
and eyes as dull as automobile primer.
The stud that is as tall as I can stretch.
In a cloud of Dust
ready to take the bullet.

His cape.
A symbol of excellence
offers up whatever we need,
whenever we need it.
He's a Barbarian in my eyes.
But that's my judgement.
He goes about as far over your head
as you can go without escaping gravity.
He goes above and beyond.

In hear the voice.
The universe.
Superman.

Whale Talk found poems

For Weekend homework, I gave the kids the following handouts:

I love found poems, and wish that I had spent more class time explaining/demonstrating because the products would have been stellar. I got some great ones, despite my lack of time, and decided that I wanted to share a few. So, here you are:

By G.L.
He's the nicest mean-looking dad in the world.
Hop into my babe mobile and I'll buy you a milkshake.
He's pale as chicken gravy and his eyes are dull as automobile primer.
Kids flock around my dad like he was created by Walt Disney.
Children trying to climb a glacier.
That would require a considerable outlay of energy.
There is nothing more than sound of heavy breathing.
Everything is relative.
Aquatic helmets.
Barbour the barbarian.
But with element, it is a soul stealer.

By B.L. (male)
Love is ...
being ready to take a bullet
two pizzas for Simon
Spock in his Vulcan mind
it is the universe
and the children climbing glaciers

By B.L. (female)
I hear the voice
the voice
I will forever remember
she looks into my eyes
I was interested
three syllables
a symbol of excellence
of energy
it's a soul stealer
she
says
I
love
you.

By A.H.
Respect the soft water.
Bottom level aquatic, big deal.
Allows real outsiders.
Take advice Barbour the Barbarian.
Voice, Action, symbol of excellence.
A small group is far more
the universe says swim.
Focus, the sound of breathing.
Instincts, whatever I have to do.
Forever remember the fiercely competitive.
The rest is history.

By A.D. (and me)
Children,
both twelve, don't know
the sensation of ignorance.
They are luckier than they know.

Whale Talk - Day 8

Well, the two chapters I sent home over the weekend provided a little bit of a reprieve from all the intensity that we had read, and that they will read for Wednesday. These two chapters set us up with just a little more reinforcement that Mike and Rich are jerks, TJ is amazing, John is the epitome of a good man, and the other characters provide a rich background to support that. So, our discussion wasn't overly involved today.

Mostly, the kids talked about Andy Mott. We found out in Chapter 12 how he lost his leg, and let me tell you, it's about as tragic and disheartening as anything in this book. I don't want to give much away (because I'm hoping if you haven't already, you'll read this book), but Andy is a hard ass for a reason. The kids in my class were pretty shaken up by the whole thing. They also keep admitting that they don't totally believe that everything in here is plausible. Here are the reasons why they find this novel hard to believe sometimes (in their words):

1. Every character has a major life problem.
2. There is too much abuse in it.
3. The characters are too different to actually get along with each other so well.
4. People don't really open up and bond the way the Mermen have.

At the end of our discussion today, I addressed several of these "concerns" along with others. Here are my rebuttals, as well as a summation:

1. Jackie, Simet, Georgia, and even Simon don't have off-the-wall problems.
2. I didn't directly address this.
3. Sometimes people bring out the best in each other because they are so different.
4. I talked about this one in a previous class/post.

Summation: It's called fiction. In order to believe any work of fiction we have to suspend reality (I explained this further to them as being able to accept the far fetched). In this book, we don't even have to suspend reality that much. When we did our opening activity, the majority of the class said they wouldn't give Andy Mott the time of day. Is that still true? (They said no, FYI). Well, that's the point that Crutcher is making here. For instance, I could pull a slacker, jock, special education student, and loner aside in Old Town High School, and if I got to know them, I would learn something. That's what makes this believable - that we have to look beyond the surface level in order to really see people. We all make judgements - I know I do - and that's human nature, but we also have to be willing to take another look.

Then, because I admitted to being judgemental sometimes, they wanted to know what judgements I made when I first met them. I told them, but really, that should be dealt with in another entry altogether.

Some kids have finished the novel, and are dying to talk it out, because the end is rather shocking. You can see SOMETHING coming, but not what does, and boy-oh-boy, even I can't wait until Wednesday to see what they think.

Whale Talk - Day 7

I'm getting close to the end of this novel, and I'm getting a little sad. There's so much more I want to have done with it. So many more discussion, so many more writing topics, so much more. There just isn't time. There are 7 weeks of school left, and I need to get Romeo and Juliet in there, so we'll be finishing WT next week. Here's what happened in class today ...

I was super excited about the discussion today because in one of the chapters they read, this passage came up. It's my favorite passage of literature - probably ever. I always remember the essence of these words, and when I read them, I get chills. But, I digress.

I was excited (to restate). I lost about 30 minutes of class time to class registration for next year, so I was extra anxious to talk to the kids. I've discovered, though, that one of them really hates this book. It makes me sad that she does, but 14 others either tolerate, like, or love it. I can live with that. So, when guidance left, we jumped right into those two pages of text. I read them out loud - which I love doing - and when I was done we talked about what John meant.

At first, I got some blank stares, so I broke it down for them. Sitting upon the perch that is a student desk, I asked my students what was different about the way that whales communicate. The answers were astounding - like got me so excited I shook a little bit.

The kids GOT IT. They totally understood, and articulated, that when a whale feels something, they FEEL it. They share it in the most primal way, and all of the others whale hear that and feel it too. There is not censoring. Just raw, brutal emotion.

There's one student - we'll call him G. He's a goofball. He cracks jokes, never stops talking, and is one of those kids who doesn't take things seriously (he tried to milk himself in my class, and I'm serious here). He explained part of the passage better than the others saying, "When whales talk, everyone gets heard. Sometimes when we (humans) talk people aren't always heard. Like stars and newscasters are heard, but other people don't get the same kind of attention." I hadn't looked at it that way before, so this blew me away. It was also a perfect transition into talking about what it IS to be human, and how we cheat each other.

I asked how, as humans, we differ from whales. The told me: we don't always let our emotions show. I asked what we do when we keep information from people to try to protect them. We cheat them out of that feeling, that experience. Then, because they looked a little confused, I brought them back to the speech I had given last class. I can't remember exactly what I said, and what they said, but the gist is ...

If we - humans - let ourselves FEEL things. If we didn't bottle it up, or try to mask it, or ignore it. If, instead, we just felt it and talked about the world would be better. We could learn from each other, and even though that wouldn't stop us from hurting, we wouldn't be alone. I feel like so many of the problems in the world could be solved if we talked openly and honestly with each other. There wouldn't need to be lying or cheating - just truth. Does that hurt sometimes? Hell yes, but in the long run we would be so much better off as a species. We can learn just as much from the Jeffry Dahmer's of the world as we can the Mother Teresa's. If we took the time to understand one another things could BE better.

I swear I could keep going there, but I'll spare you.

As if that weren't enough to occupy us until 1:47, we had a WHOLE OTHER CHAPTER to discuss. Here are some of the conclusions drawn by my students today:

1. Kristen Sweetwater is a complete foil to Carly Hudson
2. Mike Barbour and Rich Marshall (and people like them) are products of their environments - a circle of abuse.
3. Andy Mott gives information (like how he lost his leg) on a need-to-know basis for two reasons:
a. To keep people's attention so they need him around
b. He understands that people need time to process all the terrible things that have happened to him.
4. We love TJ's parents.

And that, dear reader, was my fabulous day of class with the Freshman Honors group :-)

What is Whale Talk?

I'm sure I'll expand on this tomorrow after my honors class, but for now, you need to know this is my favorite passage of literature. Probably ever. I get chills each and every time I read it. And, each and every time I finish it, I have tears in my eyes. It's that good.

Just to set you up ... TJ's dad, John, had a horrible thing happen to him - well, because of him. It's something that this man struggles with daily; something that he constantly tries to make up for. Just before this conversation, TJ found his Dad at home, in a bedroom, crying.

"... 'I realized I had reached adulthood without even knowing what it is to be human. Nobody ever told me how dangerous it is, how risky. I started wishing I were a whale. At least they know what it is to be a whale. I mean, think of it. I walk outside and scream at the top of my lungs, and it travels maybe two blocks. A whale unleashes a cry and it travels hundreds or even thousands of miles. Every whale in the ocean will at one time or another run into that song. And I figure whales probably don't edit. It they think it, they say it. If some man-whale cheats on his wife, her anguish, her rage, her despair, is heard and understood by every whale who swims into the range of her voice. The joy of lovemaking, the crippling heartache of a lost child - it's all heard and understood. Predators and prey have equal voice. The Mother Teresa whales and the Jeffry Dahmer whales all have their say. Whale talk is the truth, and in a very short period of time, if you're a whale, you know exactly what is to be you.'

I watch a spider crawl across the ceiling toward the light.

'All that is exactly opposite of what it is to be human. My parents were wonderful people, I suppose, but they didn't want me to know the real skinny on sex or love or boredom or hate or disappointment. They sold me their wishes as if they were fact. After you saw me in the bedroom, I was embarrassed. I feel so weak when I get like that. But, the truth is, that's just the way it is with me some of the time, and you might as well know it.'

I tell him what I haven't said. 'I guess I was afraid you were suicidal.'

'Suicidal or not, I'm not going to kill myself,' he said with a smile. 'If I were going to do that, I'd have done it a long time ago. What you need to know about your old man is that I always bounce back.'

I went to my room and tried to get some sleep, but I couldn't help running Dad's and my conversation over in my head. If we all spoke in whale talk, and I heard the voice of Chris Coughlin and Andy Mott and Simon Delong, how would I put them in the same ocean with the shit that comes out of Rich Marshall and Mike Barbour?'"

Whale Talk - Day 6

Get ready. This could be long. In an effort to keep myself on track, I shall categorize today's post on class. Here we go.

1. Discussion Time
The kids have now read 10 of the 15 chapters in this book. They get it (mostly), they're reading it (mostly), and they seem to like it (mostly). Instead of sitting as a whole class and discussing today, I had the kids work in small groups. This was purposeful. I can tell, when we talk as a class, that they want me to GIVE them an answer. I keep having to drill into their heads that with literature, there is not RIGHT answer as long as you can back up your ideas with the text. The other reason I wanted to do it as small groups was because there were a lot of things to talk about, and not enough time.

The groups did pretty well. There were 4 of them, and they answered 1 question each. After about 20 minutes, we came back as a large group and the smaller groups reported out. The kids had a chance to add their two cents and I got to add my quarter. I was really impressed with SOME of the answers. They seem to be really "getting" the characters in this book, and I'm not surprised. One of the marvelous things about WT is that each character, though exaggerated in some ways, is believable. The kids can all find someone to whom they relate, which keeps them engaged in the book. It also makes them feel invested, at least that's my hope.



2. Bearing it All - for the discussion
I realize that the previous paragraphs covered the class discussion, however, something significant came up.

During these chapters Andy Mott becomes a pretty significant presence. He's one of the most intense characters I've ever read, and I love him. One of the things that came up during the discussion, from the kids, is that Andy's role on the team is as the challenger. He challenges the rest of the characters to BE better, to see things differently, and to be careful what assumptions they make. He does this during "cocoon like" bus rides to and from swim meets. These bus rides are when the team bonds - and that term doesn't truly capture the connection that these 7 boys and 2 coaches make.

One of the discussion questions asked the kids whether this kind of sharing (of REALLY personal stuff) is believable among virtual strangers. Among the points raised by the students were:
1. They aren't really strangers because they've been practicing and traveling for months
2. People aren't usually willing to share such horrific things about themselves

At this point, because it was the final question, we were short on time. I needed the kids to leave understanding that there are people who would believably share that much of themselves. I spent the next five minutes recounting my personal belief about humans. The more extensive version can be found here (it's my learning autobiography for the Maine Writing Project). What I shared with kids was this:

I really believe that as humans we are here for each other. That when we go through things we need to share. It's easy for us to share the good things - the successes - because those make us proud. I believe that it's just as important to share the hardships. I'm open. Ask me a question, and I'll give you an answer because I don't feel like I have anything to hide. My Mom dying - I feel like I have a responsibility to share that story. I don't share it because I want to be depressing - it's the opposite. I want people to see that I made it through to the other side. If we don't share the hardships, how can we share the lessons we've learned? I wouldn't want to go through losing my mother again, but I do thing that that I am a better person for having survived that. Other people need to know so that they, too, can survive.

I am so passionate about that sentiment. I sometimes forget HOW passionate I am until I look out to 15 freshman faces, all wide-eyed and not one of them makes a sound. I could see the wheels turning in their heads, and I thought to myself, "This is it. This is what I'm supposed to me doing." And having read this post just before class, I was glad that I GET to teach these students.


3. I Love Grading WT Journals (this is it, I promise)

I love coming home from work and WANTING to read the things my students write. It's fabulous. In my last WT post, I mentioned that I had started getting mixed reviews. I still did. However, before they left class today I explained that they don't have to like every book. It's OK not to enjoy something, but you have to give it a chance. The thing that is funny about this class and this book is that most the "negative" journals begin and/or end like this:

I don't know Ms. Davis. I think this book is kind of boring. Why is it your favorite? I don't get it. BUT, I do really love reading about the characters' stories.

I actually explained to the class that this book is unique. It isn't driven by plot events; it's driven by the characters. I tried to show them (in the 3 minutes of class we had left) that if they like the stories of the characters, they do kind of like the book. That if they have an emotional response to a novel, the author has done his job. And, whoa nelly, has he in this book.

So, anyway. I got home tonight, walked the dog, fixed dinner, and sat down to treat myself (dead serious here, not sarcastic at all) to a dose of WT journals. Here are some of my favorite quotes - directly from OTHS Honors English Freshman (with commentary from yours truly):

"Carly is my favorite character hands down. She's independent, and wants to be independent. She doesn't want to count on other people, and that's the kind of person I want to be eventually." Whoa.

"The fact that I'm a hundred pages in and I don't know how the story is going to turn out makes a good book!" Oh, you have NO idea!

"Is it possible the point of this book is to show change? That these people can overcome all of these problems? The these letter jackets will change the school's opinion? Their prejudices?" I swear, he's in 9th grade.

"This book does a good job at breaking stereotypes." I concur! And it's believable breaking, at that!

"I don't want to admit it, but I am starting to really like this book." Mwuahahaha - sucked another one in!

And my favorite part of any journal to date, because it says what I could not seem to articulate ...

"I love how it is based on one simple thing, but it covers so much really deep information. From bullying to racism to obesity. You name it!"