Extra Curricular Events

1.) Chaperoned the Halloween Dance (Oct.)

My main recollection of this experience was how uncomfortable it was seeing middle-school girls "get down," and try to be sexy by dancing provocatively in their skimpy costumes. I kept thinking, "Ack! You're little girls!" Was spared the sight of mutual pelvic gyrations however, which was a relief-- most of the kids were actually pretty good about refraining from PDH's-- "public displays of hormones." I elected to dress up because I'd been encouraged to do so by the other teachers-- I threw on a hideous neon-purple track suit that I'd found at a thrift store the year before. Unfortunately, since none of the other teachers dressed up, and since the kids hadn't gotten to know me especially well at that point, I think most of the kids just assumed that the suit was what I put on for "casual clothes." Teaching, be not proud.


2.) Attended the boys' varsity basketball game (Feb.)

This was so exciting! Our boys were on a streak this year, and ended up going all the way to state! Our school is a funky little place, and we had just received the news that the district would be closing down our school. The boys' incredible basketball success immediately after the gavel came down almost seemed to be an act of defiance against that decision. I watched them play a small private school-- watched them go up against clean-cut Caucasian boys in new uniforms, watched the opposing school's large cheer squad perform flips and lifts and throws in their immaculate uniforms, their hairsprayed pony-tails... And then cheered myself hoarse, watching our boys make basket after basket, watch two of our girls run out in front of our crowd and shake their long hippie hair, and holler out make-shift cheers. What an incredible morale booster! It made me love my odd little school so ferociously, and gave me such a sense of pride in who these kids are and in their fighting spirit.

3.) Theatre Field Trip to Bellingham

This experience was described at length in an earlier trio of blogs.

4.) Youth Speaks Poetry Slam at the Seattle Town Hall (May)

Our poetry teacher, Karen, had invited all of our students to attend the Youth Poetry Slam at the Town Hall, which she was co-hosting-- Viola and I promised to give extra credit to anyone who attended. I ended up chaperoning five of our students, and had an unbelievable time. Not only were the young performer poets outstanding, but to see my kids' reactions was indescribably moving. One boy didn't say much, but clapped adamantly after each performer, and discussed them all at length after the performance. Another boy cried during several of the poets' performances, he was so moved; he said afterwards, "I want to go home and write in my journal all weekend!" I wrote afterwards in my journal, "The kids were absolutely enthralled. What a gift to watch them watching, and to see them SEEING!" To have my students witness firsthand the power of writing through these cool young poets who looked like them-- for my students to recognize writing's ability to communicate ideas and to reconcile one to oneself-- was a priceless testimony. This was perhaps one of my favorite nights of the year.

5.) Host/Emcee for "One Last Glimpse," a performing-arts talent show/showcase for current students and alumni (May)

I co-hosted this event with another young teacher, Derek, and we had a blast. Our "shtick" of the evening was that we felt insulted to have been asked to HOST, rather than be part of the actual featured "talent"; we therefore tried to "prove" our various talents throughout the showcase during our intermittent hosting segments. It started off with a goofy folk-song from me, then Derek continued the pretense by attempting yoga-- in a tight blue tank top and women's yoga pants no less. We came on together during the second act, doing interpretative dance to Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" and ended with an over the top rap, performed by me (in the afore-pictured track suit, with Ray Ban sunglasses, and curly blond hair under a black cap), backed up by Derek's arrhythmic beat-boxing. The occasional was a sentimental one, as it will be our school's last performance showcase; there was a slide show commemorating many of our school's moments over the years, which was accompanied by touching quotes. Many people cried. People said afterwards that the silliness of what Derek and I did provided much needed comic-relief, and helped everyone continue on with the show. It was an honor to be asked to host such an emotionally significant occasion for my school, and I felt extremely privileged to be asked, as a student teacher, to take on the responsibility. It made me realize how invested I've become in this community, and how invested they've become in me.

6.) "Oliver!"-- our school's musical! (June)

This was a massive undertaking! I worked as the assistant director and choreographer for the musical to help fulfil my theatre endorsement, which eventually culminated in rehearsals until l0:00 pm, an entire weekend devoted to being at school for the play (during grad school finals week, OUCH), and the performance of endless random tasks, such as...
- Coming up with theatre exercises and games on the spot, to occupy kids that were unoccupied
- Choreographing at a moment's notice and with no prior warning: "Greta, you can choreograph 'Be Back Soon' today, right? Like-- now? OKAY, MIDDLE-SCHOOLERS, GO WITH GRETA!"
- Blocking/directing scenes on the spot
- Re-blocking scenes after getting onto our raked stage
- Choreographing fight scenes
- Working with kids one-on-one and in groups, on character development and their acting
- Helping the kids with stage make-up
- Helping the kids with their costumes
- Helping the kids with their hair
- Improvising new pocket handkerchiefs every night after the middle-schoolers continued to lose them-- EVERY NIGHT
- Running around during the show, resolving sound issues, prop problems, costume malfunctions-- running down to the orchestra pit, in one instance, with a sign for Fagin (the lead) to "TURN YOUR MIC ON!!" before his last big number.
- Endless clean-up after the show and wrangling of middle-schooler-cleaner-uppers

To name only a few...

For the reader's enjoyment, here are the two main numbers I choreographed, though there's plenty more where these came from!




Although being involved with the musical was at times an overwhelming undertaking, especially since it came when I was doing my full-time student teaching and trying to keep myself afloat in grad school classes as well, I hugely enjoyed it. I loved being able to incorporate my love for theatre and my dance background with my teaching, and I got know my students in a different venue and in a different light. I felt immensely proud of them for pulling off such a great show!

*We were only required to have six extra-curricular events, but chaperoning prom deserves a mention as well... Was sardonically addressed in this blog!

Observing... Myself

Observations on a self-recorded video in fulfillment of an accreditation requirement.

This observed video was recorded during a lesson on "Theme," which was introduced after it became apparent via a final test that my students, surprisingly, weren't comfortable readily identifying and recognizing themes. I gave a brief Powerpoint lecture on the different elements of how/where/when/through-whom themes can present themselves in a story. Then, to give the kids practice discussing and identifying themes, I read them a couple of children's stories:


... Which is mostly all pictures, and...


... Which was cool because it's a West-African story; since Things Fall Apart , the novel we'd been reading, takes place in Nigeria, I thought it would be fun to use stories from the same area.

The first taped portion of the video includes both the powerpoint lecture and the two children's stories that I read aloud.

After the children's stories, the kids broke up into small groups to discuss Things Fall Apart; they were asked to come up with two themes and a possible "moral of the story." The second video depicts me facilitating the kids' reported conclusions from their small group discussions; after each group supplied their ideas, we launched into an all-class discussion about the book, which was also taped.

Observations during the lecture:
- I use lots of gestures.
- Beck and Haven (who were right by the computer and therefore right by the microphone) talk more than I realized... Should perhaps address that...
- I have a nice loud "teacher voice."
- Classroom management techniques:
----> "There's some side chatter, which I'm not happy about."
----> "Okay girls, if you have something to say, please raise your hand."
----> "I'll wait."
- I'm good at affirming students' responses-- "Excellent." "I like it."
- Needed to pass out paper at one point-- perhaps should have had a student do that. Oh! I did. Never mind. "Thanks for passing out the paper, Alex..."
- I use funny voices a lot-- both when reading the stories, and just periodically throughout class... Will slip into accents. Usually makes the kids laugh!
- Another classroom management technique to get them "back together" after the kids got out paper/pen, etc. for note-taking:
----> "Alright, focus up here!"
- I use lots of pictures/images in my powerpoints
- Also give LOTS of examples for the different points... Many examples from novels, some from popular movies. I tend to paraphrase the points on the powerpoint slides while the kids are jotting down notes; rephrase it in a less formal vernacular.
- I don't say "Um" much, which I thought I did! That's good.
... Do, apparently, say "You know" a lot however. Which could be improved. (At least the overused phrase acts as a formative assessment though, yes?)
- I use TONS of gestures!
- When I'm talking, the kids are really quiet. Yay! Could possibly be because they're note-taking. But that could be considered an effective management/assessment technique, methinks.
- I ask the kids to provide examples, often.
- At one point I search for a relevant quote from the book... Should have had that quote marked already.
- Classroom management technique:
----> "Justice, I'm sorry, can you wait until everyone's ready and has stopped talking?"
- I go over the main points from the Powerpoint at the end of the lecture.

Observations during the story-time:
- I allow the kids to murmur/respond/comment during the first story, which is primarily illustrated with only a few words.
- I occasionally tell anecdotes as they're relevant
- The kids LOVE the voices!
- I touch my hair a lot, which is distracting-- at least to someone watching the video! In the next video segment, I've put it back, which is good.

Observations during the class discussion:
- I hear students' ideas, will usually verbally repeat them, then validate them for what is merit-worthy, and elaborate on their ideas.
- I have each group contribute answers.
- I provide some leading questions, and then let the kids contribute from there.
- Typically, when I see a number of different hands up, I'll say, "Okay, we'll have Brandon, then Kimmy, Lara, Max, and Rakeesh." The kids then put their hands down, because they know what order they'll be speaking in.
- Classroom management technique:
----> Sometimes I use hand signals-- like just reaching my hand in the direction of a talking student with my hand/wrist flexed, like, "Stop"-- to quiet kids down.
----> "Can we stop the side chatter please?"


Overall, I think this was a good lesson. I felt I broke it up into several different parts-- the introduction, the lecture, the stories, the small group discussion, the large group discussion, and then we capped the whole thing off with some Ethiopian food. Yum! I felt I did a good job keeping the kids engaged with my hand gestures, voices, providing of and asking for examples, and kept things interesting by throwing in an occasional anecdote. Although there are a few things I could have improved upon, like having the quote ready from the book, or perhaps having the kids present their theme/moral-of-the-story ideas from up front (would have been an excuse for them to stretch their legs!), I think the lesson and my instruction was overall, pretty solid.

The Positive Propaganda Project

Our last book of the year has been Animal Farm, which we've read aloud in class. Animal Farm is an allegorical representation of the Russian Revolution, and propaganda is a huge theme, both in the book and in what actually happened when Stalin was in charge. I did a huge lesson last Wednesday and Thursday on different techniques of propaganda, and we thought of tons of examples from the book, from our prior knowledge of history, and from contemporary culture.

Anyway: at the end of the class, I said, "This is the point. You all run into a LOT of negative messages every day-- from advertisers, from graffiti on the bathroom walls, maybe even from yourself... And so for our final project, we're going to do something to counter that. Your mission-- and you must accept it, because it's required-- is to spread a little sunshine and butterflies. You need to figure out a way to spread a POSITIVE message."

I gave them some examples-- a mural on the wall--


A flier on the street--


I told them about a bad day I'd once had and how I had been scowling on a street corner, when suddenly I heard, "Good luck!" and noticed a stranger raise his eyebrows at me and continue on his trek. It totally turned my mood around.

"This doesn't have to be big-- and it CAN'T BE ILLEGAL," I said. "NO GRAFFITI, even if you think it's positive! (Unless you get a letter from the building owner, proving that you got permission.) But figure out a way to spread a positive message. Think of someone you know that needs to hear a good message. Maybe it's your friends. Maybe it's yourself. You could write positive notes to yourself and put them all around your room. Maybe you want to go give notes to strangers. Okay?"

Some kids were resistant. "I'm not a positive person! I can't think of anything!"
"Well, think of it as propaganda then. You don't HAVE to necessarily think it's true. But this is an exercise to stretch your thinking and behavior, just like any other exercise or assignment."
"What if my message is 'Being negative is the new positive'?"
"Sorry. Look at the definition of positive. That is not it. This should be something that would be seen almost universally as positive."

Clark-- one of our school's strangest young lads-- ran in circles outside, where I had moved the class because of the heat. "I have an idea!" he said, frolicking around the pine tree.
"What?"
"My message is going to be, 'Everyone POOPS!'"
I sighed. "Clark, can't you think of something just a LITTLE more PC?"

However: most of the kids loved the idea.

Today I heard the different stories of what the kids did. And you guys? My students are so awesome.

Fernanda and Kelsey went to Greenlake, and wrote huge chalk messages on the circle loop: "Have a great day!" "Smile!" "You're beautiful!" They handed out flowers and notes to people. Fernanda told one story of spotting a harried mom, wrangling four kids. She said that she'd gone up to the mother and handed her a note that said, "You're appreciated." The mom almost started crying and said, "Wow... THANK you!"

Audrina, Shana, and Tanelle went down-town with a huge block of post-it notes and put them EVERYWHERE. At one point they sat on the top floor of the mall, and handed notes out to each new person getting off the escalator. They put the post-its on bulletin boards, they fought over interesting looking people to give them to. Audrina gave a note to a police-man who had just finished arresting a tweaked-out homeless man. The note that she gave him said, "You're needed." He apparently looked down at her and said in a deep voice, "Wooow. You know, that's pretty cool. You girls come back down here anytime you want, okay?"

Rakeesh, one of the sweetest young men I have, approached the project by infusing his daily life with these intentional moments of positivity. When he got home last Friday he noticed that his mother was in a horrible mood and didn't want to talk to anyone. He told her, "You know, you're my hero." She looked at him with an odd expression and said, "What are you doing?" Later that weekend, he tried to think of a way that he could help his dad, so he did all of his homework, and showed his pop-- who was happy. He went to the community center and saw an old lady that looked tired, and said something kind to her. My favorite story from Rakeesh though was when he was playing basketball at Greenlake. He saw another guy bullying other people on the courts-- saying rude things, and trying to run them off his court. Rakeesh-- who is an African immigrant who speaks broken English, and has a stutter on top of it-- approached this guy, completely intimidated, but intent on spreading his "Positive Propaganda" all the same. He told this guy, "Whatever you're going through, I just want to say, it's going to be okay." The guy looked at him, walked away, and didn't bother anyone else on the courts.

To hear that Rakeesh had had the courage to not only approach this guy, but then to say something that wasn't confrontational, but rather KIND, forgiving, understanding, and humble, blew me away. It just floored me-- I felt incredibly moved.

Clark ended up spreading the message, "Wash your hands!" And after several consulting sessions with the girl who had been so determined to be negative, she ended up giving notes to her friends that most needed to hear how incredible they are-- a message that this girl needs to hear herself, in my opinion. Malia wrote long poems to her friends that she knew were going through really difficult times-- several of them cried when they got them, and Malia herself almost started crying when she talked about her project. Kelly made little scrolls with positive quotes and gave them out to people-- she saw one girl on the bus who looked angry and upset, and handed her a scroll just before she got off the bus. The girl's face completely changed and she got up and hugged Kelly.

All around the school have been fliers-- "There is no smiling face that is not beautiful"-- and little notes found in the bathroom, on the desks, passed out: "You're awesome." "You're the bees knees." "Every breath you take counts, every word you say is worthy, every smile your lips give is heaven, every moment in your life is worth the watch, every single time your heart beats is a miracle.” Kids are passing out flowers and chocolate-- I've gotten several cards from kids who decided to target teachers especially.

It's everywhere!

Moments like this make me feel so inspired by my students-- in my efforts to help them be better people, I feel inspired to be a better person. What a wonderfully, infectiously HAPPY task it is to help people. It's contagious-- it makes the helper happy! It makes you want to help more.

And I think my kids are realizing the same thing. :)

Student Teaching Internship Reflection

I'll reflect on the year by examining the "epiphany" moments that helped me get to where I'm at. Many of these will have been written about in previous blogs; when appropriate, I've provided links.

First and foremost:

I LOVE THIS:
Blogs like, "Okay Phew," "Letter Writing to Ligia," "Those Days," and "Bubbling Over" are evidence of the deep joy and excitement teaching brings me. Although many Monday mornings still find me with butterflies in my stomach, they flee as soon as I turn the corner in front of the school and see my students milling around in front of the building. I love my students, and I love this job. I've also realized this year that I'm good at it; the students respond to my lessons and have told me repeatedly that I make learning fun, that I make it interesting. They know I care about them, which I deeply, truly do. I've realized-- and have been told by my mentor and other observing teachers-- that classroom management is a strong point for me. I know when to be serious and draw hard lines, I know when a joking reprimand is sufficient, I know when to call a kid out in the hallway for a serious conversation, I know how to use humor, and I know how to show my kids that I expect them to respect me because I respect them; that I expect them to be kind to others because I am kind to them. Although I know there's still room for improvement in this area-- especially as I continue to solidify the "I am the TEACHER" line, I believe that this is going to be an area that I can call a strength. I do feel meant to do this. I feel called to be a teacher, and this year has been confirmation that this will be a fulfilling, enjoyable life calling-- one that blends my passions with my capabilities. I do LOVE this.

I Need to QTIP:
An acronym for, "Quit Taking it Personally." The phrase was provided to me by another new teacher my first week of school; though I've yet to take it fully to heart, as evidenced by this post written in April, this is a principle I know I need to continue to internalize. When the 3rd period students turned into hellions this last Wednesday for example, it wasn't about me; it was more likely because our classroom was almost 90 degrees. Or because the novelty of being taught by a student intern is finally wearing off, and they're finally in the mood to test me. Or because several of the kids were just in grumpy moods. The same lesson went well for the other three language arts periods, and Viola has consistently said that my classroom management skills are one of my top strengths as a teacher. Still, when kids were saying blatantly rude things... it was hard not to take it personally. However, if I'm going to survive as a teacher and avoid burn-out, I need to make sure I'm keeping the "Q" portion of the "QTIP."

Small Victories Are Victories:
Especially when working with students who aren't on the AP track, or the Ivy League route, or who have absent parental support, the small victories with these kids are a big deal. This doesn't mean that I don't hold my kids to high standards, because they're expected to achieve big victories as well. However, for some of these kids, certain moments that may have seemed insignificant on paper have been truly momentous from a psychological or emotional stand-point, and ones that I can take great joy from.

One-on-Ones Work:
Kids don't like being "managed," i.e. disciplined in front of their peers. It's humiliating, and they'll almost always try to lash out to save face. However, get them out in the hallway, talk to them like a real person, start off on a gentle note, and they're usually completely reasonable. I've enjoyed the one-on-one chats this year because, not only have them helped me effectively manage difficult students, but they've also helped me build very real relationships with my kids. Next year, I definitely intend to continue handling the more difficult moments or issues with a hallway chat.

It Works to Be Myself:
I truly care about these kids. I think in metaphors frequently. I was a theatre major in college and have a substantial dance back-ground. I play guitar and write songs. I am genuinely interested in what my students have to say. All these very authentic aspects of myself have led to-- surprise-- some of my most effective instruction, and have been instrumental in building strong relationships with my students. Additionally, it's much less exhausting if I'm teaching as MYSELF than if I'm trying to project a different persona.

With that said however...

It Also Works to Be the Teacher:
There was a moment this year when I complimented one of my third period girls on her outfit. I remember her giving me a look that said, "Weird..." and then she shook her hair out of her face and sat down at her desk. I remember thinking in that moment, "I didn't respect teachers in high-school that tried to be like me, or that tried to be my 'friend.' I respected teachers that KNEW what they were talking about, that showed me respect, and that clearly had control as the TEACHER." That realization was what transitioned me from trying to be these students' "buddy," to being, truly, their teacher. It's also when my classroom management stepped up a serious notch; I became much more comfortable drawing hard lines when necessary. This lesson was further reinforced by a field trip to Bellingham. Although it's been a journey getting to the point of having a clearly established LINE with my students, I feel like I'm there.

Sometimes Hard Lessons are Important Lessons: I still struggle sometimes with letting kids learn the hard way. If a failing student comes to me with an extremely late essay, for example, I'll typically accept it for reduced credit, even if the kids have been told essays won't be accepted past a certain date. "But he DID the essay...!" I'll think to myself, and inevitably I'll give the student some points. Perhaps responding this way teaches its own kind of lesson; perhaps students that have felt discouraged and incompetent for always failing will get a much needed boost of encouragement that may lead them to more motivated efforts in the future. However, a big part of me feels that kids need to learn the lessons of the "real world"-- that, if they miss a dead-line, there are very real consequences. Part of establishing myself as that TEACHER is proving myself to be consistent. This is still a growing edge for me, but one I'm certainly working on.

And finally:

I've Been Blessed With a Great Mentor:
A reflection on this year wouldn't be complete without expressing just how much I have been helped, impacted, and guided by my mentor, Viola. Viola, as Matt my SPU Supervisor put it, has been like a great parent: she scolded when she needed to and provided necessary correction, but also provided consistent encouragement and affirmation when it was deserved. Viola has forced me to acknowledge difficult lessons that I needed to learn, yet has also helped me through discouraging days. I have learned to trust her judgment with these kids, and it's been so incredibly helpful to have her to confer with about students or lessons, especially as I've moved into teaching full time. She's been so FUN to work with, and even taught me the nitty-gritties of grammar. :) I'm not sure how I'll thank her sufficiently when the year ends, but she deserves every bit of what I come up with. What a blessing to have worked with such a competent teacher and advisor!

Friday Fairy Tales

Today was a bizarre day scheduling-wise. Since our school is closing, our kids are being farmed out to a bunch of different high-schools; today, many representatives from the other schools came to ours, to touch base with their respective kids. It was also "Field Day," i.e. the day where the whole school has one giant recess.

This meant that I only had five students in 5th period. And, those five kiddos were only going to be there for about 20 minutes.

"Do you guys want to blog...?" I asked. "That's what the other classes did, it's an extra credit option..."

"No, let's hang out and talk!" Andy said, plopping down on the floor in front of the fan. "Socratic Seminar!"
"Let's tell fairy tales!" said Maisie, and sat down beside him.

We've been discussing allegory this week, which ties into our unit on Animal Farm. The extra-credit blog option was to create their own allegorical story. We could work that into fairy tales...

I sat down with them and the couple remaining kids followed suit. "We could tell ALLEGORICAL fairy-tales..." I offered. "About our own lives."

Andy-- forever the catalyst-- grinned and said, "You first! Lead by example!"

I thought for a second. "Once upon a time... There was a young maiden. She LOOKED like she was fifteen, but actually she was much older..."

The kids laughed-- Maisie gives me endless grief about how young I look.

I continued: "And she was in charge of teaching all the little squirrels and birds of the forest. That's you," I clarified. The kids grinned and nodded. "And... sometimes the birds would get distracted from their lessons and fly away... and sometimes the squirrels would chatter really loud, but the maiden liked them all anyway. And she would often spend long hours going to collect water and food for the animals after they had gone to sleep. And one day, she met a fairy godmother, and got to make a wish," I said.

"Actually--" I paused. "She got two wishes. Because I want two wishes. Actually--" I paused again. "She got three wishes."

The kids laughed.

"The first wish was that the birds and the squirrels would always know how much POTENTIAL they had," I said. "The second wish was that SHE would always remember how much potential they had. The third wish was for a magic wand that would silence their voice-boxes when they chattered too much." The kids cracked up again.

Maisie's fairy tale started off like so: "Once there was a peasant girl... Who was born to two OBNOXIOUS gypsies. And one day, she started walking towards the castle, towards the kingdom... And she saw a prince who was a JERK-FACED LOSER, and she fell in love with him... And then, you know. He was awful."

"So he was an evil prince in disguise as a handsome knight?" I asked.

"Yes! That's exactly what he was," she pronounced.

Andy's story began, "So there was this CASANOVA..." which made me laugh. Then he continued to tell a story that was very much a straight-forward version of his own, albeit told in third person. "He went to get educated, but... Things kinda got hard. He wanted to go off and be this big shot business man, but, you know..." He shrugged and looked at me, his face a little crestfallen. Andy is very smart, but has failed many of his classes, including ours.

I interrupted him. "And then HE met a fairy godmother, and she told him that he was young and that it was EARLY in his life, and that he still had every chance in the world to become a hot-shot business man."

The stories ended up working with the allegorical theme-- Fiona equated her and her siblings to three different kinds of suitcases, and even though Tommy didn't quite understand how to translate his story into allegorical characters, we worked it out together.

So the Friday Fairy tales ended up being a pretty great way to wind down those 20 minutes. "And they all lived happily ever after..."

Sure hope so.

Aaaaand, one more thought from Theo.

(See previous blog.)

Okay, thank you. I apologize for getting irritated. Things at the time were not running smoothly. I am in a much better mood now, though.

As much as I dislike to say it, I guess I that makes sense and I should learn to accept that. One of the biggest issues I have in life is equality. I guess you could blame that on my astrological sign. (Libra; I follow it almost sentence by sentence) It gets scary sometimes.

There isn't any need to discuss further. It was a just a little thing I needed to clear up from my mind before it escalated into something irrelevant.
So far, I'd say you are doing a just fine job at this whole blog thing. Actually, this whole blog thing is brilliant. It connects a piece of everyday teenage life to education in a fun way, and it is quite enjoyable. I look FORWARD to logging on and seeing if I got any comments! ^_^

See you in class tomorrow (If you read this before then).
- Theo

YAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!

More Feedback

This time, from Theo (who got an 11 out of 15 on a blog about Lutefisk) to me.... And then again, from me to Theo.

Are these blogs expected to be at least 3 paragraphs long? Are they expected to be an edited/revised story soon-to-be pubished in a book?

You have given us no guidelines on what is expected out of our blogs EXCEPT that they are supposed to be like freewrites. FREEWRITES, to me at least, are a rough collecting of thoughts on a particular literary subject. My mother as well doesn't agree how this went down.

Sorry to be kind of brash and blunt, but I don't agree with your grading methods. I have read other blogs that have gotten perfect grades when they have had less content, even shorter lengths, and more terrible conventions (if I understand correctly what conventions mean) than my own blog.

I don't know if it was you that gave me the grade on my late essay, but I didn't agree with that, either. Late work is typically 50% straight. Instead, I got counted late AND for the things I did wrong. That is hardly fair.

I'd appreciate a response this time,
Thanks, Theo

Thanks for the comment, Theo! Please don’t ever hesitate to ask me about grading methods, or to instigate a discussion if you feel like grading is unfair. You’ll want to talk to Viola about the grade on your essay, but I’m happy to discuss the blogs.

“Are these blogs expected to be at least 3 paragraphs long?”
Generally, yes they are. I’m looking for content that would fill about a hand-written page. If it’s a poem, then I look more for quality and evidence that the poem was carefully crafted than length. But prose: yes. Shoot for about three paragraphs, or, a couple big meaty ones.

” Are they expected to be an edited/revised story soon-to-be pubished in a book?”
No. Of course not. However, those of you that have given me writing on the side and who have proven to have great writing potential ARE held to a higher standard. I don’t grade you against each other as much as I grade you against yourself; your last blog was about an “11″ from Theo, because– as I’ve told you before– I know what you can do and that WASN’T your best. Would you disagree?

Many of you are at many different skill levels; if I graded you the same way I graded a freshman that was still learning English, you wouldn’t ever improve. You would never get grades that indicated you had more to learn– and we ALL have more to learn.

However, one aspect of these blogs– which I think I like, actually– is that it forces me to be accountable with ALL of you as to how I’m grading… Because, as you pointed out, you can ALL see it. It’s forced me to be as fair as possible.

Within that, you are ALL graded on:
Length: was it about the length of a handwritten page?

Conventions: did you spell things correctly, and use proper grammar? (This is a stricter standard than how we graded freewrites at the beginning of the year, when you were not expected to have proper grammar or spelling. However, it’s the end of the year, and you SHOULD know more; plus, there’s a spell-checker option when writing the bogs.)

Content: I look for depth of thought, and effort. This is probably the area that is graded most individually.

As far as numbers go, for this unit, a blog is given:
Full credit if turned in by Friday (the due date.)
Docked 10% if turned in by Monday
Docked 50% if turned in anytime that following week (up til the next Friday)
Given no credit if turned in anytime after that.

“I have read other blogs that have gotten perfect grades when they have had less content, even shorter lengths, and more terrible conventions.”
We can discuss grades on the other blogs if you want– I DO want to be consistent in how I’m grading, so your help with that is welcome.

Does that help answer all your questions? I AM still learning, and these blogs are a brand new project, so I do appreciate your students’ feedback on how I can improve for next time– it sounds like clearer guidelines would have been helpful for you. We can talk about this more in class if you want!

Blogs Come Together as Things Fall Apart (Henry's Class, Week 1)

The newest unit is structured around blogging: the kids have started reading Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe, and-- instead of writing responses via a reading journal or a study guide-- the kids are blogging.

It took hours and hours to get the blogs set up, since each one had to be done individually. But the rewards are already apparent: the kids have TAKEN OFF with these blogs!

What is it about the novelty of technology that entices them so? Students who haven't turned a scrap of paper in all year are writing insightful, creative, articulate blogs! The first assignment was to respond in some way-- be it poem, short story, analysis, or by elaborating further on an image-- to William Butler Yeats' poem "The Second Coming," from which verses, Achebe took his title. It's not an easy poem-- yet still, many of the kids who have balked at every assignment we've given them ended up writing a post, elaborating on their thoughts!

Needless to say, I am THRILLED.

AND, I required that they comment on one another's blogs-- and I've been blown away by how sweet they are to each other! They're encouraging, and kind, and bring up other points that the blog made them think about... I got the warm-fuzzies all weekend long, reading over them.

One of my primary goals as an English teacher is to instill a love for writing in my students; this blog project makes me think that we're beginning to inch towards that goal! Many kids are now posting other poems, or thoughts, or entries on their blogs. One of my new favorites was just posted today, by a ninth grade boy. It begins:

I sincerely hate the human tendency to get too scared to ask another person the simple question, “Hey, you wanna go out sometime?”

How do you not love that?

The blog project has been on my mind while reading over our assigned text for the week, from our Teaching English Language Learners book. Many of the examples of first or second-year teachers resonated with me: full of enthusiasm and a desire to teacher all students effectively, but also, not as familiar with students, families, or traditional methods of practice. We have several ELL kids in our classes, most of whom are immigrants from Africa. When writing papers, we ask these kids to turn in a first draft to my mentor teacher or myself, so that we can give them a good going over before the kids start their final drafts. In helping these kids go over their papers with a fine tooth comb, we give them the added assistance they need.

Of course, with blogs, the kids simply write to the best of their abilities, and then publish. However, what's been cool about starting this unit with Things Fall Apart, is that the other students are so quick to HONOR, and affirm the ELL students' African backgrounds. We're learning about Africa, and so these kids value the ELL students' contributions and insights. For a Powerpoint project that we're currently working on, which for most students has entailed researching Nigeria, the Igbo people, and themes of the novel, I had the ELL students create a Powerpoint that simply explained their experience. Through doing this, I hope to further affirm these students' contributions and experiences-- what a wealth of knowledge they have to provide our classes about life in Africa! Our book has spoken of the importance of validating ELL students, encouraging them, and including them as a valued part of the classroom. I hope that the efforts I've made are communicating that!

Those Days

Some days are so long.

Some days, you start work as early as 7AM, mentally choreographing a number for the spring musical by listening to the song on your I-Tunes, while you dry your hair and put on make-up to get ready for the day.

Some days, the school copier breaks down. And you have to get REAL creative, REAL fast to revise your lesson. And then sometimes, the copier gets fixed at the very last second, and you can carry on after all.

Some days, you can rhapsodize about Shakespeare, and the history of medieval and Renaissance England, and tell students about your own performance on the Globe theatre stage in London, and they listen, and they laugh, and they sit up and look at you with bright eyes and grins on their faces, and you feel so good.

Some days, the kids are great about doing an in-class assignment, and they work together, and you feel awesome about their progress.

Some days, you and your mentor-teacher read "The Merchant of Venice" out loud to your students with especially silly, exaggerated voices, and the kids giggle and follow along.

Some days, you have to end regular school by rushing off to grad school, and prepare for a big presentation in front of your other grad school cohorts.

Some days, the presentation goes great. You play your guitar, you teach your classmates a song (sung as a ROUND!) to describe your teaching philosophy, they all sing, it sounds great, and people tell you afterwards that they loved your presentation especially.

Some days, you go home wanting nothing more than to just get into your pajamas and watch a mindless sitcom.

But some days, you can't rest yet. You have to finish choreographing that musical number by scratching out notes in a script while eating dinner.

Some days are awesome. Class goes well; grad school goes well; you've prepared for tomorrow, and you feel GOOD about life as a teacher.

But some days... leave you EXHAUSTED.

So some nights, you're in bed by 9:30PM. And on those nights, it takes you less than 10 seconds to fall asleep.

But those are great days.

Those are really great days.

Out of Reach

Today was sort of a depressing day.

The kids are starting a poetry unit with this renowned spoken-word-poet Seattle woman, who's coming in every Tuesday for the next ten weeks. She's great with them-- very encouraging, and affirming. The kids read some of their initial free-writes out loud at the end of class today, and I was completely shaken. The writing was STUNNING-- but in many cases, absolutely heart-breaking. One girl wrote about her alcoholic/drug-addicted mother. Another boy wrote about his uncle who was in jail for murder, and his mom who had died, and his dad who had been crippled. He ended it with saying in this strong, sharp-edged tone, "I'm Dan. And my life's been f*****." Some poems were funny-- one kid wrote about cake. Another girl started off with, "I used to think dinosaurs were real. But now I KNOW I'm a Gloriasaurus." But so many of them... were just shattering.

It's like these kids have finally found a venue through which they can actually TALK about what's going on in their lives-- and it's explosive. It's resounding-- but utterly devastating to witness.

Anyway. That gave me heavy boots.

And then Jane was supposed to come work on her paper after school, so I waited, but she didn't show, and I started thinking about all the different kids that have basically tried to scam us this week, with bogus excuses, and lies... And I just felt discouraged.

I decided to just go home. I got my things together, and began walking slowly down the stairs. The particular staircase I was on has big windows looking out onto the parking lot below, and I saw my latino posse, all gathered. The afternoon today was warm, and full of sunshine, and I squinted down at them on the staircase landing, just watching them.

There were George, and Raoul. There were Jose and Eduardo. I saw Miguel there too, who hasn't come to school in weeks. He's a junior, but was taking our freshman/sophomore English class a second time-- but I think he may have just decided to drop out. I squinted at his hand, which he brought to his mouth. Smoking. I saw a blonde girl, facing away from me. Was that Jane? Is that why she wasn't getting help on her paper? No, I realized. It's the Ukrainian girl. Miguel's girlfriend.

A mini-van slowly drove by them, and, as if on cue, they all began moving with purpose as if they were going somewhere together. Then, once the car was gone, they abandoned the act and resettled on a stair-case in the shade, like birds settling themselves on a wire. I just looked at them. Every single one of those boys is failing right now. I saw them talking, laughing, smoking. I never see Raoul laugh like that in class. He always looks so afraid.

I looked at them and just thought: I don't know how to help you.

Eduardo looked up at me, and a moment later, other heads swiveled up to look at the window. Caught. I walked down the rest of the stairs and went outside into the warm sunshine. Waved at them. "Is that Mikey there?" I called out.

"What?"

"Isn't that Miguel? I thought I saw him!"

"What? Oh! Yeah!"

Miguel stood up. "Hey!"

"Hey! How you been? We've missed you!"

"What?" he called.

"How have you been?" I called again.

"I can't hear you!" he called back.

I know, I thought. I wish you could.

_

"Do you WANT me to chase you down? Because I will."

And then, I did.

5th period was NUTS today. When Keith was asked to go out in the hall because he was being so disruptive, he decided to just split. As I saw him making a bee-line down the hallway, I leaned out the classroom door and suggested he work at a table near the room. He looked over at his shoulder at me, and kept on walking.

And so I said the thing. And then did the chase.

And we talked, and got things resolved, and he came back, and we outlined his paper, and then things were fine.

When I went back into the classroom, Craig waved his arms above his head and said, "Greta!"

"Craig, I'll have to help you in a second, I'm still working with someone else."

"Oh no-- I just wanted to know if the CHASE was over!"

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Yes. The chase has been over for some time."

GadZOOKS. I shouldn't worry so much about looking young. These kids are going to make me ooold faaaaast.

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On another note, our boys' basketball team has been accomplishing steady win after win; last night, they won a game that will take them all the way to state.

This is HUGE deal. We are a tiny school. Our kids are poor. Nobody believes in us. And our motley crew is going up against these small ritzy private schools and playing their hearts out and WINNING. Yesterday, the school declared an emergency field trip and, at 1:30, sent two bus-loads of kids down south to get to the game in time, which started at 3:00. We don't have cheer-leaders; at the last game I attended, two of our girls got up in front and led our school in makeshift cheers, while the opposing side's squad did flips and lifts and jumps in pristine matching uniforms. But we WON. Today, we had a pep rally-- something which almost never occurs, because we basically don't DO sports-- and the school hollered its heart out. I found out that one boy, who was homeless only a couple years ago, is being recruited by Seattle Lutheran and may actually be able to go to college on a scholarship.

And now we're going to state. How awesome is that??

Burned CDs and Burning Rubber

I was making copies in the staff lounge when Mike the Photography Teacher came in; this is a man I’ve talked to probably twice in my life.

“So how can I get one of your CDs?” he asked.
“What?” I asked, surprised.
“The kids are playing your CD in my class!” he said. “And they’re singing along, they know all the words!”
“What?!” I said. “Are you serious?!”
“Yeah!”
“Oh my gosh… I gave out some of those as prizes when we played Grammar Jeopardy in class—I can’t believe they’re playing them in your class--!”
“They LOVE it!” he said. “I’d really like one—you remind me of like a 70’s folk singer.”
“Thanks...” I said, turning red. “I’m embarrassed, but flattered.”
Another teacher came in. “You have a CD?” she asked.
“Well, I gave out burned CDs when we played Grammar Jeopardy, as prizes—but initially, I’d just brought in mix CDs of my favorite music. But then the kids asked, ‘Are these YOUR songs?’ and I said, ‘No! I’m not going to try to push my music off on you guys.’ But they said, ‘Well we’d want the CD if they were YOUR songs!’... So I brought in a couple of burned CDs the next day of my music... Oh my gosh, and they know the words??”
He smiled. “All of them. They really care about you. It’s obvious they really care about you. So what do you think, can I pay you for one?”
“No, don’t PAY me.”
“I insist, I’d want to give you something.”
“Well, buy me coffee then. But sure, I’ll bring one in for you.”

When I got back to the classroom, Viola reiterated the same thing. “I forgot to tell you! When you were gone last Friday, all the kids were talking about your songs!”

What a funny, unexpected start to a dreary, rainy morning. My favorite part was when he said, "It's obvious they really care about you." Good words.

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Remember when I blogged about the students who were like peeing puppy dogs? Raoul is another one. Huge dark brown eyes with long lashes, a sweet temperament, a good heart-- and he never gets his work in. Some of my Latino boys have developed a trick with me: they ask for ONE MORE DAY to get it done, and give me some excuse for why that's valid. Usually it's because they were absent. (Which is usually because they were skipping class.) If I show any signs of wavering (which I usually do), they try to sweeten the deal. "How about for half-credit? Please?"

"Raoul, I need your reading journal."
"But I was gone."
"I know, that's why I need it now. It was due before break."
"But couldn't I have an extra day to get it in, since I was absent?"
"No, because it was due BEFORE break. You had an entire extra WEEK to get it done."
"You always say no to me! Why do you always say no to me?"
"I do NOT always say no to you, I have given you sooo many breaks, Raoul."
"No you don't, you always say no--"
"Raoul. This was due BEFORE BREAK. I will give you until the end of the day to turn in whatever you've got. If I don't see it by the end of the day, you're getting zero credit, and I won't accept it late. Okay?"
He grumbled and muttered.
"So DON'T FORGET to turn it in at the end of the day. Write it on your hand or something."

Raoul has done this before. He "forgets" to come back at the end of the day, gets his extra time, and then usually manages to get his credit.

In fifth period, one of the other Latino boys asked if he could turn his in-class assignment in at the end of the day, just to have a little more time. "Yes. And remind Raoul that he HAS to bring me his reading journal, otherwise I'm not accepting it at all."
"I will. Thanks Greta."

After school I waited. No Raoul. No George.

Grumpily, I packed up my stuff, and rehearsed in my head the conversations that I imagined ensuing the next day. "But I forgot!" "You must think I'm so stupid, Raoul..." They ALWAYS do this. Stupid peeing puppy dogs.

As I was driving away from the school, I saw the two of them along with some of their friends out of the corner of my eye, all waiting for their Metro bus. I whipped my car around in a U-turn and pulled up alongside the curb. Their eyes got big. I rolled down my window and smiled cheerfully.
"Raoul! George! I just wanted to let you know that you can slide your stuff under the door!"
"What...?" Raoul asked.
"When you go back to the classroom to turn in your reading journal. Because you were planning on doing that, right? Just go ahead, and slide it under the door!"
George untangled himself from the female he'd been draping. "What? You need my reading journal?"
"No, I need your in-class assignment, and Raoul's journal."
"Do you need anything from ME?!" their friend asked in panic.
"No Jose, you're fine."
Raoul had pulled his coat up over his grinning face. George turned to him, "Dude, I'm not done with mine."
"Or you can just give it to me now," I told Raoul.
"Noo... I'll go back and turn it in..." he said, grinning in spite of himself.
"Alright then. See you later!"

And I whipped my car back around and sped off. Lesson to me? No more allowing these boys to "turn things in at the end of the day." Lesson to them? I can, and will, HUNT THEM DOWN.

Feedback

Andre--
I've seen good work from you, but this does not show what you're capable of doing. Viola and I have given you a LOT of extensions, and extra help, and grade boosts this year, but it's time you stepped up.

I know what you COULD be and I know what you CAN do. But being that and doing that are choices that you have to make.

Hope you do.
Grade: 54/100

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Theo--
This is what I think:
1.) You are a GIFTED writer. Many exclamation points.
2.) It seems like you will expound and dive in to prompts that INTEREST you, but only make half-hearted (at best?) efforts at prompts that don't.
3.) I suggest you be pro-active about this. If you don't like a prompt, talk to Viola or me about coming up with a "Theo Special" that you can actually sink your teeth into. (Are you looking into [name of an alternative school] for next year? That kind of student-led curriculum seems tailor-made for a smarty-pants like you.) (I mean that in a good way.)
4.) Don't NOT talk to us about coming up with a Theo Special because you think a Theo Special might mean more work. You are a GIFTED, TALENTED WRITER but we can't help you get better if you turn in lame responses to (what you may consider) lame prompts.
5.) Also, just, "in the real world" FYI... You WILL have to B.S. good writing to lame prompts. Sometimes, you'll just have to suck it up-- and it will benefit you to do so.
6.) But in the meantime-- let's get you writing about stuff you're genuinely interested in. Because the results are superb.

Okay?
Grade: 86/100

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Isaac, we've given you SO many second chances in this class... After you re-took the essay final, you told me you were going to start doing your best work the FIRST time around... But you only have 2 freewrites out of 5. :(

I'm disappointed Isaac-- I know you can do better than this.
Grade: 28/100

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Sothini is an African immigrant who is an English Language Learner.

Sothini-- you are a beautiful writer! Your language mechanics still have a little ways to go, but you've already vastly improved since the beginning of the year, and I am SO impressed with your descriptions, poetic phrasing, and analogies. Keep it up girl-- you are a WRITER!!
Grade: 87/100

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Wish I could have read your thoughts on the last two freewrites, Eduardo.

My opinion? You should go to college and major in creative writing. You've got a perceptive mind and a heart that KNOWS things. If you got your motivation up to speed, you'd be unstoppable.

I'D buy a book with your name on it.
Grade: 65/100

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I posted Amanda's thoughts about true love in an earlier blog.

Amanda-- I just have to say that I was so moved after reading the story about your dad-- especially when thinking about the sweet, positive, kind girl that it happened to. I mistook your cheerful spirit for naivete, thinking that maybe you just hadn't experienced real heartbreak yet-- but I see that life has been tough on you already. I'm so sorry for that. :( But I feel that much more impressed by your lovely, hopeful demeanor. Hang on to that hope Amanda-- life continues to be alternately stormy and beautiful, but HOPE is a life preserver that will help you stay afloat; it is one of the truest, most steadfast gifts we will ever have. Remember, in the darkest times, that light is around the corner-- and YOU have the kind of eyes that will find it.

I love your heart Amanda. You inspire me! :)
Grade: 98/100

The Disentangling

Written Jan. 27th 2009

Taught all day today and feel a bit knackered. I'm supposed to be responding to my grad school classmates in an online discussion right now, but I need to hit the refresh button on my brain first.

Therefore:

Blogging.

(When I first wrote 'blogging,' I wrote 'boggling' which would not be an inaccurate description of current self.)

Last week, I snapped at this boy named Chris. Chris is one of a few students that I think of as "peeing puppy dogs." They're totally adorable, but totally frustrating-- never getting their work in, making low efforts when they do, and plus, they lie all the time or tell stories to get out of stuff. Think of a little brown-eyed pup grinning up at you with this disarming expression... while pissing all over your new carpet.
"Chris, what is this?"
"My in-class essay."
"Yeah... but... you wrote a paragraph."
(Shrugs and grins.)
"And you brought it in 10 minutes early. You could have spent 10 more minutes on this. You know that we're looking for like five paragraphs, right?"
"I guess." (Grins.)
"Chris, this is lame."
(Laughs sheepishly and shrugs.)
"You can do so much better than this. This is seriously lame."
"Sorry..." (Grin.)
I heaved an angry sigh, and threw down his paper on the table. "Go sit down."
And he shuffled off to his desk.

I immediately felt guilty. Why didn't I leave it on an inspirational note? Is he really going to try harder if I just tell him he's lame?

After class I tried again.
"Chris. I don't want to just leave this by telling you you're lame. I think what you DID on that test is lame, because I know you can do better than that. Viola and I can't help you get better if you don't try. It's like basketball practice. If you show up and just sit on the bench, we're never going to be able to give you helpful pointers to improve your game. You HAVE to try. I really believe you can do better than this, and we can HELP you be a better writer if you GIVE that to us. Okay?"
He grinned shyly. "Okay." Then he paused. "Um... Greta? Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," I said, smiling. Finally. He gets it. This is one of those great moments.
But he burst my bubble. "How are your FEET so small?" he said, wrinkling his nose, and grinning.

ARGH. Today he wasn't even trying to be cute: he was just contrary and apathetic and rude. I thought to myself, "You're not even the peeing puppy today. You're diarrhea puppy." So I put him outside. When I went out in the hall to talk to him later on, he told me that there was, "a lot of drama going on, and he was just sick of it." I told him that I understood drama could make things frustrating, and that I would try to go easy on him-- but that he needed to meet me halfway. Who even knows if he was telling the truth. I know he doesn't have it easy. But does he have it as hard as he'd like me to think?

When I drove home today, I felt tired. It had just been a long day. I still feel tired.

Two songs came on the radio. First, "Washed by the Water," by Needtobreathe. Second, "Revelation," by Third Day. Both songs had been put on a "Hope" playlist, which had been created during a very stressful time of my life.

I remembered a picture I'd gotten in my head once, during that time. In my head, I pictured myself on a dark beach, sitting on packed sand with my knees clutched to my chest. On the shoreline in front of me, I saw endless piles of garbage. The sky over the ocean was dark grey and stormy-- but beneath that sky, there hovered a large, bluish spirit. She guided the waves in and out, to the rhythm of my breathing. In, and they washed up over the garbage, stopping just short of my toes. Out, and they took some of the garbage with them-- pulling cans and old plastic wrappers away to hide forever in the ocean's secret deep. She continued to guide the waves: in, and out. In and out. And piece by piece, the shoreline began to clear.

Then I pictured someone close to me-- someone that I've been worried about. It was Christmas morning in this picture, but this person wasn't celebrating. She was wrapped in string-- tangled up in so many strings, and each one was a spot of pitch from her past experiences, her burdened living that wouldn't let her go. One was her relationship with her dad-- and there were memory strings and conversation strings and disappointment strings knotted with just that one. One was her negative body image, and knotted there were magazine strings, and media strings, and comment strings, and mirror strings, and cruel self-thought strings. There were strings of financial stress, and strings of worldly expectations, and strings of an unknown fearsome future-- there were so MANY. So many: so so many. And she was so tangled.

But God was in the room-- it was Jesus this morning, but He wasn't His Christmas-baby self. He was a grown up, wearing khaki pants, and a brown sweater vest with a brown tie, and he had his sleeves rolled up. I don't know about His face, but it was a soft expression. And when He focused on the strings, they began to snap-- one, by one, by one. And she slowly gained movement. The strings began to untangle, and she became more and more free.

And then the picture went back to the beach. But this time, the sky was clear and blue. There was no storm; only a soft breeze. I was on my feet, in a white dress, and my head was up, and my shoulders were back. The beach was clear: it was only soft bleached sand for as far as I could see. I began walking along the beach, feeling that breeze whisper around my neck and through my hair, and I felt such a deep peace, and such a pure joy, and such a real freedom. And though I didn't see Him yet, I knew that God was walking towards me.

And I thought, "In the end-- it's just Him. We begin as free souls-- and we end as free souls. We become so burdened in the meantime. But He frees us from the garbage-- He frees us from the tangling. In the end it's all clear-- it's just that long, white beach."

Since then, when feeling overwhelmed or stressed, I picture those waves coming in over that litter-ridden shore, and pulling it out, bit by bit. And I breathe to the rhythm of the waves in my mind. Today, when driving home, I pictured Chris. And I pictured him all tangled up. And I thought, "They ARE all tangled up-- every one of them. They're so burdened and tangled and confined." I thought of Isaac, and Andre, and K, and all the kids I've mentioned over the last six months, and all the tough things I've discovered that they face every day.

Maybe my mission as a teacher is simply to help them with the disentangling. I know I can't articulate that in words like Jesus, or God-- at least not in public schools-- but I can articulate it through kindness, and encouragement, and belief, and respect-- even in ceaseless beleaguering. I can articulate it with words like Hope, and Freedom, and Peace, and Future. I can try to show them love that looks like a cleansing wave, or a snapped string, or a long white beach.

Glimpses

Written Jan. 24th 2009

True Love as described in an in-class essay by a 14-year-old Freshman girl, who is currently dating an 8th grade boy:

Last but not least, true love. Have you ever had that feeling that you'd love to be with someone everyday all day? That feeling you get when you like someone alot and everytime they're around you get huge butterflies and you can't stop thinking about how much you want to kiss the person? That my dear, is love... (Actually, love cannot be defined, but that's how I felt...) This person is most likely "The One," meaning you'd love to spend the rest of your life with them. The only person that makes you feel a certain happiness... A happiness you get and it just makes you feel so good and so right. It's amazing.

So in conclusion, without love, our world would be completely dull and retarted, because you wouldn't have the happiness you get from all the love.

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Another student's thesis, responding to the prompt, "Is television a good thing, or would we be better off without it? Choose a side to argue and use specific examples to support your argument."

Although TV isn't terrific, it also isn't totally terrible. All in all, TV could be considered hardly better than neutral.

We've been working on creating arguable theses...

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One kid responded to the prompt: "If you could make one change in your life, what would it be? Why would you choose to change that one thing? Use specific examples to explain why that change would be important."

He wrote that, if he could change anything about his life, he would choose to live somewhere else; he said that his neighborhood had between 5 and 7 gangs, and that he couldn't count how many times he's almost been robbed or shot. He described how noisy it got at night, with the sirens and yelling and gun-shots. "In the day its not so bad but at night you wish you didn't have ears."

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January 8, 2009
Dear Greta,

I would like to thank you for helping me in dance class. You have been a great partner and have been patient when I have made mistakes. It is nice to have a non-judgmental partner in such an environment where one is vulnerable such as when one dances with another.

I would also like to thank you for helping me deal with those that think it is okay to pass me up in the partnering line. That kind of incident makes me feel lower than dirt and you helped me get back on my feet and to come back strong.

I am truly glad to have you as a dance partner and as a teacher. May your future career in academics bring you good fortune and good times.

Sincerely,

B----- W.F. H----- Esq. The XLVIII

Dragons and Dylan

Written on Jan. 15th 2009

Since I've confessed teaching fears and insecurities and difficult moments to you on this blog, will you forgive me for telling you about what feels like a smashing success? If at any point the gushing becomes unbearable, just refer back to this. You'll be properly reassured that there have been plenty of ghastly moments as well.

But not during the last two days.

The last two days have been AWESOME.

Viola tagged along on a theatre field trip to Port Townsend this week, which meant I had all of Wednesday and Thursday to instruct. These are both block days-- 90 minute periods. It was my first time teaching a 90 minute lesson, and only the second time I would be teaching without Viola nearby to crack the whip--which meant that I was knee-knocking nervous. She had asked me to teach them how to write an in-class essay. When I worked out the lesson plan, I kept feeling discouraged and hitting mental blocks. After phoning a friend (actually two: teaching-cohort friend Josh, and edgy-English-teacher friend Mark) for ideas, I'd worked out what I wanted to do.

Wednesday: wore a very grown-up outfit to help things.

We started with the main information: I'd written out the main points to think about when writing an in-class essay and we read over the sheet as a class. The Wednesday crew seemed to drag during this part, so for Thursday, I took out key words and replaced them with blanks. The kids guessed what the key words were supposed to be and "filled in the blanks" as we went along, which kept them engaged.

Then came the fun part. "You all know how much I love metaphors," I told them. "And I think of writing an in-class essay as being similar to heading into BATTLE! You want to nail this thing, conquer the beast! So if we're going into battle, the first thing we have to do is figure out what we're fighting-- we have to pick the prompt we want to take on. So if this is a battle, do we want to fight the evil sorcerer or the dragon?"

The classes all perked up at this part. Sorcerers? Dragons? The dragon beat out poor Voldemort every time.

"Okay-- forgive my artistic abilities guys, I'm not nearly the artist that most of you are." And I drew a BIG dragon on the board. The kids loved that.
"Give it wings! Give it a spiky tail! Wait, it looks too happy. That's better."
I labeled it PROMPT. "Okay. That's what we're taking on. Now what do we need if we're going to fight a DRAGON?"
"A weapon!"
"RIGHT! And the weapon is going to be our thesis statement, because there's no way you can successfully take on a prompt without a thesis. So what should we fight him with?"
We fought the dragon with a fire hose, ninja stars, a magical sword, and a nuclear bomb, for 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th period respectively.

The boots were the essay outline, since you can't move forward without boots. The helmet represented brainstorming. And the armor made up the supporting points. "And if you don't make sure ALL areas of your body are covered, the dragon's going to lop that part right off! And THERE goes an arm! And we might pretend it's not a big deal, but it would definitely be more than a flesh wound. Okay? You want to make sure that you back up your thesis with GOOD armor."

In 4th period, one of our most eccentric kids who has repeatedly failed our class, but who is a BRILLIANT artist scooted up and shooed me away from the white board. "I want to draw the dragon." His creation was hilarious and elaborate, and I was able to teach while he went to dragon town.

Then the kids drew their own. And they came up with the BEST analogies! One girl drew her make-up kit: the directions were the outline, since you needed to have some idea how to put your make-up on. The different pictures of how you could apply it represented brainstorming. The brush was the thesis statement, because you can't put makeup on without it, and the different colors of makeup were the supporting points. One African kid-- who often struggles in our class, because of his language difficulties-- drew a basketball hoop as the prompt, the ball as the thesis statement, his athletic positioning as the supporting points, and his shoes as the outline. It was spot on. When they were done, they went up front and explained their analogy-- and they were seriously GREAT! They totally got the concept, and by teaching it themselves, the different steps were repeatedly reinforced.

The next part of the lesson I had struggled with. I wanted to have them practice writing an essay in class, but on what? We finished our last book before break, and we'd only been looking at haiku in the last week. But how can you write an essay on a haiku? Then I remembered that my Wednesday sub was a guitar player who loved Bob Dylan.

So we busted out Bob Dylan.

After giving them some background on who Bob Dylan was, and the context in which he wrote his famous song, "Blowin' in the Wind," we played it for them, trading off verses, doing harmonies at the end, and Neil even did a sweet guitar solo. The kids loved it! Later in the day, in our mentoring class which normally just acts as a study hall, the kids all made me play more songs, and clamored about which one was their favorite. They liked my songs!!

After playing the Dylan song, I asked, "So what is this song about? What is Dylan saying with all this?" The kids have amazing poetic sensibilities, and they made some beautiful observations. One kid said that "blowin' in the wind" meant that, even though the answer is immediately in front of us, it would take work to CHASE after it-- and it's our laziness that results in all these continued problems. Another kid suggested that the line, "How many times must the white dove sail before she sleeps in the sand?" referenced Noah's ark. "The flood came because of all the chaos in the world, so it's asking when the world will finally be peaceful enough for the waters to go down so the dove can land." Another kid observed that the line, "How many times must a man look up before he sees the sky?" implied that we were so consumed with our own comforts and the "being indoors" that we refused to look at what was real, what was high above us, what was clear.

GREAT stuff, right??

Then we wrote an essay together, examining what the line "The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind" might mean. We brainstormed, and then outlined, and picked a thesis. The kids contributed their ideas for supporting points, and picked lines from the song as evidence. I asked them, "So are you getting this? You're tracking? If you came in to an essay exam, do you feel like you would know how to start now?" They all nodded, nodded, yes, yes we would.

The last ten minutes, they read the haikus they had been assigned to write for homework. And they were beautiful. They were BEAUTIFUL. These are just... magic moments.

I felt like such a TEACHER! I joked with the students, but was very much the adult in the room, and they were respectful and attentive. The sub I had today told me, "You have an incredible rapport with these kids. They really respect you. I mean they REALLY respect you, you can see it."
"Really??" I asked, delighted. "That mutual respect thing is very important to me-- I don't feel I can ask for their respect unless I demonstrate that I respect them, so that's been something I've been really working towards..."
"Well you HAVE it," he said. "You have a great sense of how to work with them-- you know when to joke with them to get them to do something you need, but you also know when to get more serious-- your tone and the inflection of your voice guides them in just the way it needs to. I've never seen a student teacher who was able to handle the kids like you do."

He told me that!!!

I saw my dragon-artist in the hall later on, who is consistently a contrarian in class-- any point made will be rebutted by this student. But he's delightful. I told him, "Clark, thanks for the white board illustration today, that was fantastic. And I always enjoy hearing what you have to say. I know we sometimes give you a hard time for your quips, but you're very witty."
"Thaaaanks," he said, in his particular way of talking. "I like that you do metaphors, it makes it less boring." This is a kid that doesn't do ANY homework, and rarely does ANY of the in class work. And he thought my lesson was interesting!

Later on, two boys were talking outside of our swing dance class: Andre-- remember Andre? and this sweet African immigrant kid named Rakeesh, who's tall and athletic, and works really hard. Andre said as I approached, "Hey Greta, Rakeesh's talkin' smack about you, you know..."
"Whaaaat?" I said, grinning.
"No I did't! I was not!" Rakeesh said. And then in his halting English he said, "She's a...good singah', an', an', an' a GREAT teacher!"

HE SAID THAT!! My own student said that I'm a great teacher!!!

It was just an awesome two days. There have been so many times this year when I've felt discouraged, when I've felt exhausted, when I've wondered if I really want to have to plan lessons and grade papers for the rest of my life... But days like this remind me why I got into this in the first place. I do feel CALLED to this. And these magical moments... man! Honestly, there's nothing like it, feeling like you got THROUGH somehow-- feeling like YOU learned something from these amazing, angsty, hormone-ridden, stubborn, sensitive, unique, incredible individuals staring back at you from their desks.

I know more hard moments are coming, and that there will be many more points where I feel discouraged. But the last two days were just the best. And this blog will be my way of preserving it-- putting it in a Mason jar and sealing it tight, and keeping it in a place where I can pull it out when I need that extra sustenance.

I loved these days. I just loved them.

Oh the Awkward.

Written on Jan. 6th 2009

Back to teaching stories. Cause we're back in school.

So: in some ways, being a young-looking 24-year-old has helped me connect with the students. I'm close enough to their ages that I'm able to draw lesson parallels to cultural examples that I know they'll find relevant. I'm able to translate concepts into vocabulary they'll understand. The students see me as approachable. The girls like my clothes. Etcetera.

However, sometimes the generational proximity is too close for comfort. And I'm beginning to realize that the discomfort occurs more often on THEIR side, than on mine. Examples:

One tall lanky kid is taking our class over again as a Senior (we teach 9th and 10th Language Arts), and I always think of him as the "adult-ish" one. Then one day, I realized that he's essentially the same age as my little brother-- the kid who I call "Paullywog," who I get piggy-backs from, who I joke around with, who I give a hard time to, who is just my favorite little buddy. That made this Senior far less intimidating to me. He's an affable kid, and one day-- trying to make conversation while walking with him and his teeny tiny girlfriend down a loooong empty hallway-- I made the mistake of trying to communicate this realization.
"Dylan! I realized the other day that you're basically the same age as my little brother!"
Bemused look from Tall Lanky and Teeny Tiny.
In an effort to explain myself: "That makes me feel like I can give you a hard time."
Skeptical looks from Tall Lanky and Teeny Tiny.
"You know. HA HA HA!"
Tall Lanky and Teeny Tiny exchange incredulous expressions.
"Ahem...nevermind."

Also, I'll sometimes use casual terms of address without thinking twice. I occasionally call the girls, "Darlin'" or "hon," like I would any of my girlfriends, and I sometimes call the guys, "Dude." Like, "Dude, I saw you do your homework yesterday. Why don't you have it?" To me, this is normal. I say "dude" all the time in real life. "What a nutty dude." "Hiiii dude!" "Dude. Cut it out." But the kids-- I'm realizing-- don't think of me as a real life kind of person. Or at least not one that should use their vernacular. I called one of the boys "Dude" the other afternoon and he replied, "Why you always call me that?" He was grumpy that day. But still. It made me realize that-- as much as I may still be a young adult that goes on dates, that goes to parties, that listens to KEXP, that calls her guy friends "dudes"-- the kids are seeing me as their TEACHER. And teachers don't use words like "dude." At least, not until they're old enough that it's funny again.

Yesterday, I passed a group of boys in the hallway and one of them said, "Whaaaasssssuuuuup!" These are boys in the L.A. class, and we've joked around before. Reflexively, I said, "What's uuuup!" and jokingly flashed a "W" with my fingers. You know, like "Word."

Are you cringing? Because I'm cringing thinking about it.

The boys' mouths dropped open and the one who had whaassuupp'ed me said, "Don't ever do that again!"

Ummm.... Yes.

Right.

WON'T.

The good news is: as young as I look, and as young as I FEEL, and as much as I've worried about that hampering the students' respect for me: all this indicates they see me as their TEACHER. One 9th grader asked me if I would be her reference for a job interview. Since when did I become old enough to be a reference?? But I love that she asked me. And I love that I AM an adult in their lives. I'm learning to cool down the slang terms in "school life," even if I keep them up in "real life" (although-- let's be honest-- I've always sucked at slang anyway), because at school, I'm not 24. I'm not Paullywog's big sister. I'm not some dude's gal pal. I'm the TEACHER. I think maybe I slipped into the trap of trying to be "cool" with these kids, which is just sort of silly. Their determinations of approval aren't coming from whether or not they'd want to hang out with me after school-- nor SHOULD they be. Yikes, that has "awkward" written all OVER it. Their respect has been garnered more after I've taught a solid lesson, or played them a song on guitar, or told them a traveling story. Which are all very ADULT things to do.

I like recognizing those perimeters. I like being the grown-up. I like that they're the teenagers. And that doesn't mean I won't still be intentional about talking to them as equals, but I like that there's an understood separation. I like that I'm the teacher.

I'm Cool, See?

I have been trying to build meaningful connections with my students. I have been trying to impress upon them my genuine interest in their well-being, and earn the right to speak into their lives.

But sometimes, it works better just to moon walk.

Today I played the "Golden Deer" in Period 4's play. They'd needed an extra body for the part early on, and I agreed to do it temporarily-- but before I could stop them, they'd written my name into the script, and I was committed. In rehearsal, I'd done my deer-prancing with pointed toes. Viola had remembered my ballerina background and ordered me to do a leap-- and when this lady tells me to jump, I jump. Har har. Once I did the split leap.. It was all over. I was the hit of the play. The kids kept talking about how I was the BEST Golden Deer, and it was so cool when I did the leaping thing, and that I was their favorite part. I earned love and adoration for prancing around in gold lame.

Per. 6, the Swing Class, was won over when I did the moon walk. I did it as a joke one day at the end of class, and the kids flipped out. On Halloween, I tried to teach them-- I had extra slippery shoes on that day, so I figured out how to do it not only moving backwards, but staying in place. They couldn't stop talking about it. I was lauded and revered for my throwback to a Thriller dance I'd done in high-school, when I'd dressed up as a zombie and learned how to, you guessed it, moon walk.

How funny, you know? Who ever would have thought that playing a toothless zombie for a friend's senior dance project would set me up to be the Cool Teacher in town? Who ever would have guessed that ten years of ballet would prepare me, not to be the professional ballerina like I'd initially hoped, but the kick-a** Golden Deer for Period 4? I just think it's so funny.

But hey, if doing the moon walk gets me their respect, I'm not complaining. Wanna see my chaîné turns??

Small Victories

Today, 3rd and 5th periods were supposed to perform their plays. These two periods have struggled more than any other; Viola even decided to cancel the audience she'd arranged for 5th period's play, since they were so behind. Regardless, today was the day to perform: ready or not, here they flounder.

5th period starting running through their scenes at the beginning of class for one last rehearsal. When it came time to run Isaac's scene, I watched for what he would do. On Monday, he'd been in a black mood and refused to take any of the direction we gave him. When I finally said, "What's going on Isaac??" he glowered, and said he didn't want to do the scene at all.
Viola told him, "That means you'll get a zero for your grade."
"Fine," he said, and walked off stage.
I watched him stalk off, and then stood up. "Come on Isaac," I said. We talked out in the hall. I finally told him to take a minute to just cool off and come back in. He ended up skipping the rest of the period, which ticked me off.

But teenagers-- especially the boys-- can be moody, and I hoped it would prove to have been a temporary "Black Monday" sort of thing. For all his attitude, I've got a soft spot for the footsie-ing, holstering twerp.

But when it came time to run his scene, Isaac came up to us. "They found someone else to do my part, so I don't have to do it," he said.
Viola was in yelling, wrangling, director mode. "That means you'll get a ZERO," she said loudly.
He shrugged, and his face got hard. "Fine."
"Then LEAVE. You can spend the rest of the class in the office," Viola said. "I don't want you here if you're going to take that attitude."
He shrugged again and started getting his stuff.
Viola sighed. "Do you want to talk to him?" she asked me. I followed him out into the hall.

Isaac is a little guy, and I've heard the other kids make fun of him for being so small. He compensates by wearing big sweatshirts, baggy shorts, and sporting a determined mustache. He has bright blue eyes that either twinkle or glower. I know he cares about his grades: he tries with the homework, and he gets super bummed over a bad test score. One day, he got a C grade on a packet he turned in, and ended up staying after school for an hour to improve it. He ended up getting a revised grade of 161 out of 165-- a high A. When I gave him the packet back, and he saw the new score, he was SO HAPPY. You should have seen it-- it was such an awesome moment for me. He was SO PUMPED that he'd gotten that grade up so high. On the first day that Isaac and his partner rehearsed their scene, Isaac played the king and his buddy Drew played the queen. K-- oh K...-- had scoffed from the audience. "Shouldn't ISAAC play the girl?? Kings are supposed to be GOOD-LOOKING." I chided K, but I saw that it stung Isaac. We've also heard from his little gal-pal that there's something going on with his family at home. I don't know how much of all this was a factor. I'm sure some of it was.

"Isaac... what's going on??"
He shrugged again and his face was sharp. "I don't wanna do it."
"But Isaac, that would mean the highest grade you could get this quarter is a C... And I KNOW you care about your grades."
"Viola's bein' stupid, she keeps yelling, she takes it so frickin' seriously... I don't wanna do it."
"Honestly dude, that's a pretty common mode for directors to take right before the show... I remember I once directed an assembly for the ASB officers when I was in high-school, and it was based on the Wizard of Oz... And I was in this big poofy pink dress, because I was supposed to be Glinda the Good Witch, and the middle-school boys could NOT get their part ready, and I just about lost it. I was like, 'FIGURE IT OUUUUT!'"

He didn't say anything.

I sighed. "I get that you don't agree with exactly how she's acting, but... That's kind of life, you know? There's always going to be someone that you have to toe the line for, and sometimes you'll like them and sometimes you won't. But... it doesn't hurt HER to give you a bad grade. EMOTIONALLY, it hurts us, because we care about you, and we want you to do well, but ultimately... You're the one that the bad grade impacts. And Isaac... I know you CARE about your grades. I still think of you coming in after school and working on that packet. You worked SO HARD, and that made me feel so good, like that was a good moment for ME, as a TEACHER. Because sometimes it's hard to get you guys to try. But you really did an amazing job with that packet."

He looked away, and his eyes were slits. I saw a water drop fall from the side of his face turned away from me.

"You don't have to ace this one, Isaac. I'm getting that the performance stuff isn't your thing. But... if you can just GET yourself through it... That would be really good."

He stayed silent.

"Is there something else going on Isaac...?"

He still looked hard at the wall, and narrowed his bright blue eyes, but there were tears coming out of both of them now. I sighed. "I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better." I paused. "Okay. Why don't you take five minutes, and just... think about it. And if you're not back in class in five minutes, then I'll go look for you in the office, and... we'll understand that you've made the decision to just not do it. Okay?" He nodded. I went back inside.

His friend Jessica asked to go talk to him, and she did. Viola asked how he was; I said he was upset. She went to go find him too. Jessica came back in and said, "I was starting to get him to laugh...! I think I could have maybe gotten him to come back in, but then Viola made me leave...!"
"It's okay," I told her. "Isaac needs to make his own choice, you know?"

Viola came back in. "He's coming," she said. "He's just going to do the crowd scenes."

And sure enough: Isaac did a crowd scene.

He got dressed in the Indian garb like everyone else, and even let our resident India-expert put a turban on him, and during the wedding scene he got up, and danced with everyone else.

And to me, that was a TRIUMPH.

As grad school interns, we're supposed to be collecting evidence of our students' work: evidence that will show we're impacting their learning. But most of the moments I'm most proud of have been when I've succeeded in just getting a kid to TURN THE WORK IN-- or in this case, to DO the performance. I can think of two boys that I hassled, and prodded, and encouraged, and spent hours working on drafts with so that they would TURN IN an essay. By the time they finally got them in, they were weeks late, and the boys only got between 25%-50%. But: they TURNED THEM IN. And that was such a great moment for me. We were only able to give Isaac 50% for his performance grade on this-- but he was IN the performance. He wore a green turban. He did the clapping dance in a circle. He came BACK into the classroom.

They're not much, but these small victories are seriously the moments that make me feel the best about teaching. I think of one of those two boys I'd mentioned, Adam, getting the paper back that he'd finally finally FINALLY turned in, and reading the comments that I'd written. His paper was ghastly-- truly-- but I'd written how proud I was of him for doing the work. Normally when Adam gets another failed assignment or test back, he crumples it up and throws it in the garbage. When I gave him that paper back, he looked at the comments for a long time, and then he carefully put the paper in his notebook. I LOVE that.

5th period made it through their performance-- and they had a small audience after all, of about 6 upperclassmen! They limped their way through, and during the last scene we all-- Viola, the kids, and me all together-- just cracked up because it was so haphazardly thrown together. But they actually did really well-- the play really came together pretty well! We had them all write their names on grading rubrics after class so that we could give them a score, and Isaac gave me his. "Thanks Isaac," I said, distractedly, collecting the others.

He started to walk away, but he looked back at the same moment I looked after him. "Thank you," I said. He gave a little nod of acknowledgment.

Small victories. But dang, do they make me feel good.