Haiku Education

Love and hate, burritos, and Andrew Jackson

2012-02-10T21:25:00.000-08:00

February in a middle school means love is in the air. And when love is in the air, fights happen at lunch, because while love is passionate, so is hate, and middle school relationships last about as long as it takes to reheat a burrito. Today as I wrapped up the War of 1812 (much like a burrito is wrapped up), I experienced the highs and lows of middle school passion.

PERIOD ONE (note written in class when the teacher played Aretha Franklin's anthem to spell out the only thing the US really got from the War of 1812)

Dear Promethean Board,

I am so glad you are in my life. You make everything seem so important, and you make life so much easier. Thanks for everything, and by everything I mean the ease with which I can show an oil painting of the Battle of Fort McHenry, the lyrics to Jimmy Driftwood's "The Battle of New Orleans," and Cornell notes, all with a click. I love you. So glad I dumped that doc cam/computer projector.

Love, Lola

PERIOD THREE (note written while the teacher looked really unprepared for the lesson)

Promethean Board--or should I just call you "The Beast"??

You froze me out today. And then you ate two of my flipcharts. I thought we had something special, that I could count on you. I would kick you out, except you weigh ten thousand pounds and are expensively wired to the wall and I would get a referral. An overhead projector would have been better than you today. A chalkboard would have been better!!

Lola

One of My Educational Heroes....

2012-01-28T10:41:00.000-08:00

...is Amanda Mayeaux--read her bio HERE. I met her at the Disney Teacher Awards where she and her team swept the top awards, and I've been learning from her ever since.

Click HERE for a post from her blog that sums up my thoughts when I talk to people who don't have any teachers in their family or hang out with teacher friends--if you are a teacher, get ready to feel understood, and if you don't have any close teacher friends, she will help you know what to say when you talk with them.

(And if I say "them" as if teachers are another species, it's because the best ones kind of are.)

Geeks and Greeks

2012-01-22T19:23:00.001-08:00

We launched our persuasive writing unit and I began with Aristotle's conception of rhetoric. I asked the kids to deduce what each word meant based on its root.

"Ethos must have something to do with ethics," guessed N.

"Wouldn't Logos mean logical?" suggested K.

But Pathos stumped them. "Sympathy...empathy...pathetic..." I prompted.

"Pythagorean Theorem!" yelled J. I love my job.

Three Strikes and Donuts

2012-01-06T23:34:00.000-08:00

So how do you get kids to do their homework?

And I am presuming that you assign only meaningful work (no word searches!) that supports the standards, their learning, and will help them grow as readers, writers and thinkers.

Our principal came up with what we call the Three Strikes plan. If a student misses three assignments in my class, I send her to the office. She calls home in the presence of a counselor, reading a scripted message, alerting the parents about the situation.

Usually this is enough to get kids doing their work. God bless these parents!

Three-peat offenders (the office keeps track of how many times kids make the call) are assigned to Saturday School to do their assignments. Hey, if the parents can't or won't do their job, we're here to help.

In my own classroom, I give the class a star each time they have a 100% turn in day. When they have three stars, I spring for the most awesome donuts ever, way better than the neighborhood donuts. And guess what? Peer pressure is on my side, now, especially after one class gets a taste and spreads the word.

Haiku: To the Newcomer

2012-01-05T17:34:00.000-08:00

Promethean Board--

Gigantical monolith--

You hold much promise

You're yet one more screen

in my kids' overscreened life

(Almost theater-sized--)

My learning curve: steep

My exploration time: nil

The day you came, I sighed:

"My super powers

Are gone! It's like Kryptonite

For educators!"

But I accept you,

will integrate you, and soon

Will master you, yes.

But tell me one thing:

Will kids learn more? Or faster?

Impress me, I beg.

So I am pretty skeptical. I think it's the netbooks that will make the real difference in lessons. That's what will connect us to information instantly, allow us to share it and stuff. All the lessons on Promethean Planet strike me as Power Point-ish, and I never liked Power Points for lessons, just for funny pictures. Presentations delivered via PP's have generally bored me and, it seemed to me, control the presenters. History is a story at heart. I am not down on the Promethean Board--I am so glad I have one, am in love with having two microphones, surround sound, can't wait for a printer--I am just not impressed with the how technology has affected the digital natives in my class. (They know more about less than any kids I've taught in twenty years.) Watch--I'll probably fall in love with it. Here's hoping.

All's Smell that Ends Smell

2011-12-22T18:14:00.000-08:00

The Friday before Christmas vacation, students were in their "barnyards" (yeah, cuz we were reading Animal Farm, so there) and discussing issues of power, negotiating group plans for our next salon.

One group finished early, the Dope Donkeys (yeah, they gave themselves alliterative names, so there). By the time I strolled to their group, they had invented a new game based on Spin the Bottle. The Donkeys, an all male group, were taking turns spinning D.'s pen. Whatever it pointed to, they would have to smell.

I watched as K. had to smell a gift bag. I watched as J. had to smell K. (K. offered his hand, in case you are wondering). I watched as J. had to smell D. (again with the hand technique).

Whether this was a scents of humor or fragrant violation of good taste, I love my job. Yo, homes, smell ya later.

Fat Albert, The Lion King, and Disrespected Deer

2011-12-20T15:51:00.000-08:00

Early December: Students write their intros for their Animal Farm papers, using a step-by-step process, teacher demonstrating each step. All students EXCEPT A. turn in intros; teacher edits/critiques them; students now have direction and really good intros. (Except A.)

Mid-December: Students bring in drafts of papers; randomly assigned fellow students read, instructed to give kind, helpful, and specific criticism. A. receives N. as his "critical friend;" she is insightful--he is lucky.

Five minutes ago: Teacher reads A's paper and despairs. The intro is awful, but A is just getting started. Here is a transcript, but just a sampling of a much longer and more awful paragraph in a much longer and more dreadful paper--mind you, his paper is supposed to be about Orwell's Animal Farm:

"Deer aren't respected; they just mind their own business and are shot, cooked, and eaten. Why was the play called "The Lion King" and not "The Monkey King"? I personally think an ape should be king of the jungle. And why is Fat Albert so fat? I mean that has nothing to do with my point and point is in the next sentence. My point is that class issues isn't always how we interpret it."

As much as his paper makes me want to fall on my sword, it is an indicator of my next steps. Upon return, our class will read some of the successful papers and identify what makes them good. This student will be required to write a new, PROPER intro, and if I have to personally ok every sentence as he writes it, so be it. I am not allowed to throw up my hands (although they can't stop me from throwing up) and dismiss him; I am going to educate the pop culture out of him. I am gonna work him until he writes a paper he can proudly show his grandma, who happens to be a friend of mine from my early teaching days.

I have my work cut out for me.

Santa, Linus, Compassion, and Education

2011-12-17T16:08:00.000-08:00

This past December 9, during my prep period, I turned a corner and found one of our most fabulous 6th grade teachers SOBBING, a student comforting her. The teacher saw me, waved me on. I ran and hugged her and then left them, respecting her wish to continue the conversation with the student.

Yesterday she shared what had happened, her eyes flooding.

"I ruined Christmas," she whispered.

A supporter of all things magical and joyous, a generous soul who quietly gives to her students, a Martha Stewart in the classroom which is tastefully decorated according to each season--there was no way this statement was true, even aside from its hyperbolic breadth; my face told her I didn't believe her.

"Inadvertently, of course. But parents have written and complained that I have no respect for imagination or the magic of Christmas and that I am an insensitive soul."

You see, my "callous" colleague thought it would be wonderful for her students to participate in the Make-A-Wish Foundation's® holiday campaign. She wanted her students to remember children across America who are experiencing medical challenges, to remind her class that thinking of others is important, to help them do something practical and easy to help others. (Can't you just feel her insensitivity and lack of imagination?)

But when a student asked why the class needed to stamp the envelopes to send letters to Santa...nonbelievers hooted, and the student looked to the teacher to call foul, but this HONEST EDUCATOR, who loves all things magical and respects truth and wants her kids to trust her, said something neutral along the lines that "Myth or not, we all can support this wonderful cause."

So. Some kids at age 11 believe Santa is real, that he's the one who, at no financial cost, is able to bring gifts to good kids, who sees them when they are sleeping and awake, omnipresent and omniscient, reaping all the love for the labor and sacrifice of the flesh-and-blood True Givers, flooding him with all the love that is due to others. (Obviously I have a strong opinion about Santa). This teacher's diplomatic reply was brought home, mistranslated: "Mrs. X says Santa isn't real," voiced in front of younger siblings. And the parents wrote mean letters, telling my friend she ruined Christmas for the whole family, that she is insensitive and doesn't care about imagination or the magic of Christmas. Yes, my colleague is so insensitive that she cried all weekend and now tears up if Santa is even mentioned.

Look, tell your kids what you want, but: If your idea of "CHRISTMAS MAGIC" overshadows greater notions of GENEROSITY, TRUTH, and HELPING OTHERS, then you need some schooling about what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown--so take it from the best, Linus himself, and back away from big hearted souls who are trying to make this life easier for your kids and less fortunate kids:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5GtOfLlOT84

Macy's Believe holiday campaign benefits the Make-A-Wish Foundation^®. The nostalgic campaign was inspired by the New York Sun's famous "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus" editorial from 1897 and includes letter-writing "Believe Stations" in Macy's stores across the country. For each letter dropped in Macy's Santa Letterbox, Macy's makes a $1 donation to the Make-A-Wish Foundation, up to $1 million. And for each letter received on National Believe Day, December 9, Macy’s will donate an extra $1 to the Foundation.

Three Reasons I Love Teaching Eighth Graders: a Haiku

2011-11-27T09:03:00.000-08:00

1) Imaginative

2) Quickly forget to "act cool"

3) Can converse deeply

When seminar kid, I., showed me his crossed fingers, I had to take a picture! Simple, original, funny. I. is by far the greatest in the class at reading aloud; he is thoughtful about plot and theme, supports the ideas of others, and he enjoys wearing ridiculous hats.

Speaking of hats, one seminar student last year loved his topper but understood the school's no-hat-in-the-classroom policy and decided to come prepared to maintain the good condition of his natty accessory with his own portable hat stand, the ultimate in nerdy coolness:

I hope these pictures begin to show you why I have the world's best job.

Gratitude and Remembrance

2011-11-11T09:16:00.000-08:00

Sometimes a picture

is a far better teacher

than any lecture

I don't know who took this picture, but it is beautiful. Teachers often speak in military terms about our profession: long time teachers are "veterans", resource teachers aren't always considered "in the trenches" by regular classroom teachers, teachers swap "war stories" in the lounge, some "battle" for or against special testing of students. Unfortunately, there are teachers whose classrooms are emotional battlefields where children are casualties.

When dealing with difficult kids, resistant learners, I must remain conscious of what I fight: IGNORANCE, not a child; AN AMORAL CULTURE, not a child; APATHY, not a child.

Ephesians 6:12 puts it this way:

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

Let the dedicated teachers soldier on, fighting the good fight.

siiiiick

2011-11-03T18:28:00.000-07:00

I am consistent

About making them wash hands

After every sneeze,

Hand sanitizer

for those with allergies. So

why do I get sick?

SALON 2011--and lumpia

2011-11-01T20:04:00.000-07:00

It happened!

This year's seminar kids had their first salon--with a triple focus on memoir, extended cross-sense metaphor, and irony. Oh, and food...don't forget food, and by food I mean eggrolls, sweet and sour pork, three kinds of homemade cookies, 1.4 million bags of chips, 8 liters of soda, and (cue the singing angels) lumpia. God bless the Philippines.

I had forgotten how much work, and how near hopeless, it is to transform a classroom with fifty dollars, a ladder, and some push pins. Part of the trouble is that the salon was smack in the middle of the day, bracketed by a legitimate and challenging history lesson about Jefferson's original draft of the Declaration of Independence and slavery. Part of the trouble.

But these are pictures I took anyway after my 12 hour school day, amazed at how three hours could accomplish so little. I'll try to get some pics of the event itself, because I must tell you: it went well again, and this time about a dozen parents came (double last year), a letter of appreciation was sent to my principal about the event, and we had lumpia.

I count any event that involves lumpia as a clear and absolute success.

The writer, not the candy bar--and Alanis Morissette

2011-10-14T17:37:00.000-07:00

So today in the middle of O. Henry's "A Retrieved Reformation," right when we get to the part where Jimmy gets engaged, the kids start to talk to the story like some people talk to characters in a horror movie: "Oh no!" "She's a banker's daughter and he is a thief but she doesn't know it!" "Don't do it!" It is perfect because I am teaching them about different types of irony. Clearly they are grasping dramatic irony--when the readers know something the characters don't.

...and then they collectively gasp when little Agatha gets locked in the safe and Jimmy's fiancee asks if he can help--situational drama. (One girl makes fists and shakes her arms back and forth the same way hungry newborns do.) And after the last line is read, about five kids applaud, ten exhale audibly, and all 32 have smiles wreathing their faces.

And then they got EXCITED about their assignment: draw cartoons depicting the three types of ironies, either alone or in pairs. Oh, the buzz! They couldn't wait to get started, they couldn't wait to differentiate between the types of ironies, and they couldn't wait to show me some of their ideas: A love-struck girl is unaware of the big knife in her lover's hand; a plastic surgery seeker becomes the guest speaker at the national "Love Yourself the Way You Are" convention; a homeless man checks his homepage on Facebook, only to get an "Error 404" sign; A man calls an exterminator, unaware that the exterminator is himself a giant cockroach...

(One of my favorite moments was revealing the irony of the character's name--"Jimmy" means to pry something open--juxtapose that with "Valentine"???)

As for Alanis, CLICK HERE FOR A LINK to a post that analyzes her hit song, "Isn't it Ironic" to see if her examples are actually ironic. And CLICK HERE for a smile.

Senator Kehoe

2011-10-10T18:42:00.000-07:00

A state senator--

coming to speak to our kids!

Hope she is upright...

Hope she reaches them,

sticks to the Constitution

and doesn't grandstand

Hope she interests them--

holds their fickle attention

and challenges them

I love that she chose

a middle school--most speakers

shun this strange age group

May her risky choice

be rewarded by a most

fascinated crowd.

It might be happening!!

2011-10-09T15:01:00.000-07:00

This just may be the magical year...school-wide, the kids have been so good that there has been no need for Saturday School (where evil children do hard time)....almost all my students are doing all their homework...the normal distribution of grades in each class is abnormally skewed in the happy direction...and last Monday I got spontaneous and straight-up raucous applause from my Seminar class that had no idea what I meant!

All I said was, "Today will be our first Stupid M. Play-" and whoooo, boy, they just about woke the dead! A former student is doing some volunteer hours with me before she leaves to teach English in Korea, and I am so glad I had a witness. These are kids who want to be involved, jump in, learn! HUZZAH!

(I should add that to the magical year list--someone actually volunteering in a middle school classroom for nothing more than a diet Dr Pepper and the warm sense of satisfaction from helping others--)

Anyway, the only nonmagic is my study skills class. I had visions of transforming them, but really, my vision is much more literal now: come in, get to work, be productive. So far, they come in. The other two steps are next!

But I may have to call Disney: This year has the makings of a feel-good hit!

Haiku Vocabulary

2011-09-23T23:00:00.000-07:00

Mission: to learn a bunch of new words

Secret mission: to make it kinda fun

Method: write a haiku describing the vocab word without using the vocab word. Write your name and the word on the back.

Example:

Who is Chuck Norris?* [on the back: VIRILE: adj]

Big, buff, hairy chest--look out!

What a manly man!

The next day, all the kids put their haiku on the desks. Have the kids circulate, trying to guess the vocab word before flipping the paper over to confirm their guesses. Heck yeah, it's kinda fun, because 8th graders are hilarious. The kids see the same word three or four times, but each time it's framed in a new way. Painless studying! Bonus points for the teacher if she plays some ragtime as background music.

(*actual vocab haiku written today by one of my new Seminar kids, J.)

"On Top..."

2011-09-15T19:59:00.001-07:00

Soooo my study skills class....the people who'd run it last year smiled at my enthusiasm. And maybe my tail was pretty bushy and my eyes a bit bright.

After a goal setting, getting acquainted, power-outaged first week and a nebulous homework-wrestling second week, things are just now starting to have a shape. As I went over to J. to see how he was doing, his grin echoed his words: "Hey Miss M, I have all my work done!"

Beaming back, I said, "Is it just me or do you seem to have it all together? You on a roll or something?"

And sincerely his eyes widened, his expressive hands went up, and he confided: "This is the first year that I've been on top of things. I hope I can stay there."

Me, too, J.: It's my job, my goal, my passion.

Monday's 9/11 Remembrance

2011-09-12T20:16:00.000-07:00

One thousand students

In the morning sun, quiet,

Respectful: I'm warmed.

Mullets and Music: Teachers as Illuminators

2011-09-05T09:31:00.000-07:00

The Best Principal in the Galaxy sent this link of Dr. Jeff Goldstein to her teachers today: click here

I'm thinking about the metaphor of teachers as light. Some students have dark home lives, dark thoughts; some think their future is dark. The photo is of Helen Keller and her awesome teacher, Annie Sullivan, who became Helen's eyes. Well, I, too, am in the enlightenment business! I want to let my light shine. How I pray that this is The Year for my students, if they haven't already experienced one, The Year their eyes open wide, a year of social, emotional, and intellectual delight: oh, let there be LIGHT!

sometimes it's the little things

2011-09-01T17:13:00.000-07:00

It's an unlooked for September miracle: the old new* TP dispensers were replaced with new new ones--lo, two-ply TP!! And the angels sing.

*I have no idea how this was funded--the replaced dispensers were only around a few years--hence my use of this oxymoronic phrase.

Sweaty Eddie and Sweaty Betty

2011-08-29T21:00:00.000-07:00

Back in the baking bungalow. It was only me, but even with three fans, it was over 90° in there.

Now imagine three dozen kids in there, too, sweatily resplendent in their fall finery, hoodies and high tops and tights despite the mercury, slaves to his majesty, King Fashion...

Some people would be foaming with rage if pound animals were kept in the conditions we allow our precious kids to endure.

Look, I know we have a luxurious time of it compared to Haiti and other developing countries.

But this is not Haiti.

Our schools house more wealth than banks--human capital--but our shortsighted, quick profit mentality coupled with mismanagement and comparably low pay for the educators lead to reluctance to invest in the One Sure Thing. Shame on us. Shame on U.S....

Anticipation

2011-08-25T09:23:00.000-07:00

Finally, you're here!

Excitement for this new year:

Anticipation!!

Anticipation,

You're later than usual

(I was wondering

if you'd ever come)

But yes, my heart is racing

with hope and promise

My mind is bubbling

with possibilities and

ideas, and the

butterflies are back,

banging inside my stomach

getting me ready

for that magic bell

when the new school year begins.

THIS MIGHT BE THE YEAR--

--the magical year!!

the year of community

the year of large leaps

--the pivotal year

when all Johnnys learn to read

and shy kids take risks

and we love learning

so much the hour just flies by

and in June, we weep

because, even more

than learning, we have learned

to love each other

Anticipation,

You make September joyous--

thanks for showing up

The Rodney Dangerfield of Academia

2011-08-08T16:31:00.000-07:00

August, 2011:

She: "You went to grad school at Harvard? Which field?"

I: "The one no one respects."

She: "Education?"

Us: "Hahahahaha!" (but my laughter was bitter...)

My new friend, She, is not alone in her assessment. What is tragic about this very true story is that selecting teaching as a vocation is seen by the academic world as either proof of lack of interest in learning or of lack of intellectual capacity.

1997:

While carpooling to an Intervarsity Christian Fellowship academic conference of all the Harvard grad schools about the intersection of Christianity in the disciplines, we introduced ourselves, starting with the front seat: the driver was an astrophysicist, shotgun was a geologist, next to me was a linguist working on his eighth language, another physicist, and then me. When Astrophysicist heard my vocation, he blurted, "Why would you want to come to this event?" I was too shocked to respond. His blurting was the first time I'd faced academic snobbery. The silence grew awkward until Geologist came to the rescue, using heavy sarcasm: "Yeah, why would a teacher be interested in anything educational?" We all laughed--I could breathe again--but I was dizzy with bewilderment for a long while.

A very long while--this still bewilders me.

Harvard's motto is Veritas, Truth.

In this case, Truth hurts.

just kill me now--oh wait...

2011-07-10T22:12:00.001-07:00

Sooooo seminar kid C. chooses to write her persuasive speech in favor of euthanasia, but she just can't seem to get her paper off the ground. She tells me she is passionate about euthanasia, that she believes firmly that no one should have to live in agony, but she has no other arguments. I help her as best I can, suggesting she concentrate on free will and human dignity, asking if she has read enough about the topic; despite our efforts, C.'s paper is uncharacteristically thin.

The day arrives for C. to deliver her persuasive speech. C. trudges to the lectern and begins with a confession: she has just learned, seconds before, that she's had euthanasia confused with anesthesia all this time.

Whoopsie.

CHANGING...

2011-07-09T11:01:00.000-07:00

underwear? easy.

my mind? a matter of course.

my attitudes? whoa.

New Venture, New Ideas

2011-07-09T08:58:00.000-07:00

This September I'll have class full of ultra-reluctant learners--and I am excited about having them! It's a class for students who are below basic in reading or math. Our school started it two years ago, and it has evolved into a tutoring/study hall/on-line reading and math program.

In addition to increasing their reading and math abilities and confidence, my hope is to impact their mindset. These kids, even more than the others, have generally been mentally feral, left to feed on TV and videos, raised by their impulses and the media, consequently serving the twin gods, Immediate Gratification and Self.

I propose sharing with them stories of ordinary people who have done extraordinary things, who have shown courage, surmounted difficulties, or otherwise acted with greatness of heart. I may not transform them all into vital, literate, community pillars, but I am gunning to shatter that hard apathetic crust, to watch their minds expand to believe that their efforts really ARE more important and efficacious than their perceived abilities. And I have 36 weeks to go for it.

If you know of inspiring or motivational stories that kids (mostly boys) aged 12-15 would enjoy, please let me know!

Here are some of my current ideas:

1) The man who stood in front of the tank at Tiananmen Square

2) The Olympic gymnast Shun Fujimoto, who performed his ring routine with a broken leg, knowing the pain he'd receive upon dismount

3) Christian the lion, about the impact of love and friendship

4) The pi as music video that so delighted me, a non-math mamacita

5) Six year old Ruby Bridges, who integrated a Louisiana school

6) Thirteen year old surfer Bethany Hamilton, who, after losing her arm to a shark, went surfing a month later

7) The marshmallow test of preschoolers

8) The walnuts and rice demonstration about priorities and time management

9) Austin's butterfly (from 2:01 to around 6:30)

10) Chuck Swindoll on attitude (see below)

Ideally I'd like to have 36 solid ideas. Ten down, 26 to go!

I leave you with Chuck's famous words:

"The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company...a church....a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past...we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude...I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you...we are in charge of our attitudes." — Charles R. Swindoll

Last Words

2011-06-11T10:11:00.000-07:00

As I sign student yearbooks, I ask them to sign a notebook of mine. I tell them I'll need their whole name so when they become famous I can retire from the money I make by selling their autograph on ebay.

Reading their entries is, by turn, moving, hilarious, motivating, and thought provoking. Here are some especially memorable entries from this year. (Don't be appalled by the inattention to the rules of grammar, spelling, or punctuation--their entries were voluntary and hasty first drafts since others were clamoring to write.)

First, apparently US History is weird:

Secondly, there are some cool perks to being a teacher. A. promises me NBA tickets, and L., a discount on any plastic surgery I may want:

T.'s hyperbole makes me smile--I've taught her soooo much!!:

A big surprise was the long entry (longer than most of his classwork) from M., one of the students involved in stealing my sodas. My heart melts at his accepting of academic and behavioral responsibility, his indirect confession and apology, his tacit understanding that I feel like a failure when my students don't do well:

Then there are a few entries that touch my heart and make me feel the year was successful, even though J. remained aloof and alienated and A. was content with her 73%:

And last, though there are many sweet words about me personally and "your my favorit teacher (sic)" entries, D.'s and T.'s mean the most: D's because I really do spend so much time and energy on lesson design and T.'s because he's one of the brightest people I've ever met and my daily fear was not challenging or engaging him:

FOUND!! Never stolen!! YAYYYY!

2011-06-07T21:55:00.000-07:00

My thumbtacked Albert Pujols baseball card was never stolen!! The card untacked somehow and slipped between the panels of my slidey whiteboard. I feel much better.

And the reason I even have this card is because I find Albert's last name incredibly amusing, in the same vein as the words "duties" and "molasses"....and I have adopted it as my swear word. When I drop something, I mutter "Pujols." Sometimes when I'm hurt I yell "Alberto!"

My Seminar class named our class mascot "Pujols." Here is a picture of him:

When kids traveled, they took Pujols with them and brought it back decorated with emblems and souvenirs from their destinations: Hawaii, Cancun and so forth...until S. brought him on our school's annual Washington, DC/NYC trip and lost it there. And when the class told me, under my breath, I swore the ultimate: "Alberto J. Pujols!"

Charrrrge!

2011-06-05T19:49:00.000-07:00

Every year, one of the highlights of the year is our all-8th-grade reenactment of Pickett's Charge, Lee's fateful gambit (wow, I've never actually used the word gambit before) that was the turning point of the battle of Gettysburg, and hence, many argue, of the war itself. My class takes the role of the Confederates against my colleague's Union army. (We lose every year.)

The night before, our soldiers write a rather prescient letter home after two indecisive days at Gettysburg and lay out their uniform for tomorrow: a gray hoodie or t-shirt. On the day of, they carefully secure the letter on their persons--in case they die-- and mentally prepare for battle by reading Joy Hakim's account.

General Lee, resplendent in uniform (handmade without a pattern by our talented financial secretary) and astride his trusty steed, Traveler (shown in the photo of a former student visiting me), along with General Pickett, lines up with his soldiers, while a replica of the Bonnie Blue Flag purchased by my colleague's mom and another replica of the more familiar Confederate flag (handsewn by a former student) snap in the breeze. A drummer beats out a marching cadence and we begin to sing the song we've earlier learned: "We are a band of brothers/Native to the soil/Fighting for the property/We gained by honest toil..." Our soldiers have gray slouch hats, thanks to generous ancestors, and off we march, having learned the week before how to march, halt, stand at ease, stand at attention, right, left, and about face. (It was beyond scary the first time I attempted to teach them to march outside the confines of the bungalow, but it usually is a super fun and wonderful day.)

As we march down the hallway, random 6th and 7th graders pop out of windows and wave (or shout) at us, but we are intent on keeping time and the soldiers are disciplined.

We reach Cemetery Hill in time to hear a few trumpet players from the local high school wrap up "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." We see the Angle, a low wall and the target of the attack, represented by a row of inverted garbage cans and butcher paper, protecting Mr. F's blue-garbed soldiers, Old Glory held high, General Meade proudly riding his horse. General Meade is also uniformed, thanks to our talented financial secretary. The Confederates swing into position, watching for the student who is holding up huge numbers which signify what actions they are to take as I begin a voice over of the battle from Interact's Civil War unit (I got the idea and the script from this unit and it has evolved into this big epic day with the help of Mr. F and Mr. T.). The sounds of battle (from the sound track of the war film Glory) are piped in as soldiers begin to be "shot", literally when their number is up, raised by the student on the hill. And when number ten is raised, the kids in gray t-shirts--er, Pickett's regiment--charge up the hill to engage in hand-to-hand combat.

And I mean it. They play Rock-Paper-Scissors to determine who lives and who dies in an engagement, but with this twist: Confederates must win twice in a row while Union soldiers need win only once. This mathematically ensures the slaughter of the Confederates that actually occurred that day. (My idea, and I am inordinately proud of it!)

Soldiers get to die as dramatically as they wish, as long as they keep in mind the B-5 Three Commandments:

1) Thou shalt not damage a prop.

2) Thou shalt not harm another person.

3) Thou shalt not harm thyself.

Clara Barton, reincarnated as an 8th grade girl and wearing a dress handsewn by that genius in the financial office, braves the bullets with two stretcher bearers wearing lab coats swiped from the science department, evacuating the smaller wounded soldiers to safety. A few years we had a dry ice machine creating battle smoke. Whoa...

When number eleven is raised and the drum beats a retreat tattoo, the remaining Confederates straggle to the "woods" where their distraught generals have watched the destruction of the regiment. And then it's over. But not yet.

Mr. F. has the "survivors" doff their hats, and as we survey the "carnage," he explains the meaning of Memorial Day and the significance of the battle we commemorated. And then, slowly, sweetly, Taps is played by the visiting trumpet players. I'm not gonna hide it: sometimes a tear slips out and rolls down my face.

Then Mr. F has the "dead" rise and rejoin the surviving Confederates. Our sides salute and huzzah each other for valiance, and then Mr. Lincoln comes out to dedicate the field as a final resting place to those who here gave their lives that the United States might live. It would be more impressive if we had a tall skinny middle aged man instead of our young female helper, but she reads it beautifully and wears a black jacket and top hat to good effect.

We march back to HQ, my bungalow, drop off the props and spray them with Oust for the next period, and then watch a five minute clip of the war film Gettysburg so the students can see the reality of what they were portraying.

It's a long day for us teachers (no prep, and even lunch is spent feeding our high school guests), but one they remember fondly, I hope. This year we had all the mobile special education students marching (the rest cheered from wheelchairs on the sidelines or waved Union flags), and it was such an honor for us all to include them. S. is a favorite--he is a diminutive fellow with long hair, glasses, and fondness for acting cool. Here is a shot of him.

I love my job.

sunny side

2011-05-26T22:44:00.000-07:00

I am suffering from a lack of positivity. This week has been full of disappointments, academic and behavioral, not least of which are two students expelled for selling drugs. Thefts, lies, apathy, parental anemia...the gamut.

So I must focus on something lighter.

We were playing our Civil War paper wad game (more in a future post), and a "dead" student was beseeching his general to use her one resurrection on him (what, you thought my game was realistic??). D. said to his general, "Please? I'll even map out the sentence for you: it starts with 'Resurrect' and ends with 'D.' "

And quick as quick, his general said, " 'Resurrect Alex,' said D."

Also, A. came after school yesterday to StudyFest and left confident: "I'm gonna ace the test tomorrow, Miss M!" He worked the whole hour this morning, checking his answers, and turned in his test with a nod of his outsized head. He came and high fived me in the afternoon when he learned he'd earned a B+. I am so proud of him. Seems funny, but sometimes it takes middle schoolers to the last test of their 8th grade year to put it together--that scoring well isn't magic or luck, and that it only takes a bit of time and effort.

More good news: SDCS may be rescinding some of the teacher layoffs.

And this weekend is my 2nd to the last weekend of grading! Woot.

And my colleague brought for me from the D.C./NYC trip a picture of Washington's dentures--and they are perfectly gross, gross enough for middle school US History! I leave you with this smile as I go to brush my teeth before bed:

from me this year--and never before:

2011-05-26T22:27:00.000-07:00

...stolen: two glue caps,

a MacBook and power cord,

Pujols baseball card,

half dozen sodas--

And more than you bargained for:

all of my trust. Ugh.

what is going on?

where have all the boundaries gone?

disappointed...? Crushed.

3 F's in May: the Titanic, baseball, and Batman

2011-05-22T19:59:00.000-07:00

What I said: "Of course, Mr. X., we can meet for a conference this Monday."

What I thought: "Really? With three weeks remaining? Where have you been the other 33 weeks? You really think grades move much at the last minute? Have you never heard of the Titanic? How about end-of-season batting averages?"

What I said: "I'd like it if you would bring your son to the conference."

What I thought: "That way he can't play us off each other."

What Mr. X. said: "I'll try to get him to come."

What I thought: "Holy parenting, Batman, that's the problem."

What I would like our background music to be during the conference: CLICK HERE

What I wish Mr. X. had learned earlier: CLICK HERE

WHAT IF there's a disaster drill?

2011-05-03T18:58:00.000-07:00

One of the vicissitudes of public school teaching is the Disaster Drill. There are a wide variety of such drills, each with its own procedure: the fire drill--calmly leave the building and sit down in the designated area; the shelter-in-place drill--close all windows and doors to secure against toxic fumes; the lock-down drill--lock all doors and windows while students lay silent on the floor; the earthquake drill--students sit quietly under the tables with their ears and neck covered.

When we debrief, kids start asking questions:

How will locking the bungalow door stop someone from kicking in or shooting the glass windows? What if he has a grenade? What if he sets fire to the bungalow? What if an earthquake kills the teacher? What if you die, Teacher, can I be in charge? How will the fire engine get to the bungalows when we are lined up on the blacktop blocking their way? How will the louvered windows stop toxic fumes from floating in? Is it true that if you scream, the gunman is more likely to kill you? Will you be our human shield? What if we are on lock down for hours--where will we poo? Where will we put the dead people? If there's an earthquake, do you think this table will protect me, especially since I am 6' tall and can't fit under it? What if there's an explosion and we all get deaf so we don't hear the "all clear" signal? Can I be in charge of the bandaids? How will bandaids help if Ive been shot?

Indeed.

In the spirit of WHAT IF--you might enjoy this video of WHAT IF questions that come in handy if you happen to be hanging out with the Queen of England. (What if there is a mosquito on the queen's face? What if she has lipstick on her teeth? What if her dress catches fire?

WHAT IF you click here?)

I wish you "serene good fortune," and may all your drills be espadrilles.

Connecting with the Math Averse/Math Phobic/Math Haters

2011-04-02T18:01:00.000-07:00

I don't love math. It's not people-y enough for me to care about it. It's a puzzle to solve. Puzzles are ok. To analogize, if math were literature, it'd be the mystery genre.

Some folks like trying to beat the author at her game, solving the murder before Poirot or Miss Marple or Encyclopedia Brown or whomever. Meh. Who cares? What's the point?

Now me, I like a story that sticks to my guts for days, books peopled with characters that resonate, settings I get to know, filled with history or conversations that make me think, thoughts that transform me.

In school, math teachers are forever trying to persuade the math averse that:

a) We need math. (Uh, not so much as we need love and understanding and a calculator.)

b) Math is fun. (For you, maybe. Yawn.)

Math teachers need to change their tack for some of us. Here are two approaches:

1) I wish a math teacher had explained that math was problem solving, and that I could actually build my brain (synapses and such) by solving math problems. Even if the solving was onerous, at least it wouldn't seem pointless.

2) I wish a math teacher had shown artistic applications of math, not so much to persuade me that math was fun as to show me how others enjoyed it. And that is the genius of this link. Please watch it. It makes me irrationally happy, something I never thought I'd say about a mathematical endeavor:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YOQb_mtkEEE&feature=related

How to Manipulate Your Parent

2011-03-05T18:48:00.000-08:00

Helped chaparone a trip to Knott's Berry Farm last night--what a wonderful bunch of articulate, polite, patient, good natured, friendly kids on our yellow bus! We arrived back at school at 2 am--yes, in the morning--and most of the parents were there, ready to transport the sleepies home. A handful of kids had to wait a bit, as always, and as always, that meant so did we chaparones.

I told one, T., he should call his dad and fake cry, "Alllll the OTHER parents came already!! Don't you love meee? Where arrrrre you?" But T. smiled and said, "No, that won't work on my dad. This, though, might: 'Hey Dad, I have fried chicken...' "

Our laughter rang through the wee hours.

If you've taught for any length of time...

2011-02-07T18:17:00.000-08:00

...then you understand

the many subtle meanings

rolling eyes convey

:The Daily Miracle": READING

2011-01-29T13:45:00.000-08:00

This morning I saw my friend Malcolm Guite had a cool word study on his MugBook page:

In Greek the word "euangel" literally means good message (hence good news) , or more literally "good angel", (angel meaning "messenger" or "bearer of news"); this is the root of the latinised English word "evangelist". But when the word was first translated into Mediaeval English it was translated "good spell" (written "godspel"). "Spell" at that time meant "word", and also curiously, "play", and "enchantment" (related also to spiel - game or play) and the word "god spell" was eventually contracted to 'gospel'.

So of course I visited his blog--he is a professor at Cambridge University in England, as well as an Anglican priest, a poet, a Harley lover. He'd posted this gem under the title "The Daily Miracle":

What a miracle that you should be reading this! The everyday miracle that we call ‘reading’, a miracle of interpretation, of leaps from shapes on paper, to unsounded sounds in the mind, leaps from sounds to meaning, and from common meaning to a communion of minds! We take it all for granted, we scarcely notice what we are doing, but sometimes we should pause and reflect what an extraordinary achievement literacy is, and how privileged we are to be able to do it.

(http://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2011/01/24/the-daily-miracle/)

and I have been thinking with gratitude and wonder about the Magic of words all day.

middle schooler praise

2011-01-22T15:52:00.000-08:00

He was serious:

"You should have a TV show

about history..."

D. is academically on the bubble--he has a D-/F+ currently with one more week in the semester. We were learning about the Whiskey Rebellion, taking graphic notes in six panels. He looked up from his notes and sincerely gave me that haiku-friendly compliment. I didn't know how to react because middle school praise is as blunt and sincere as middle school scorn; it has no kiss-up coating or social distance. His comment was like being bear-hugged in public. I recovered my balance, smiled and thanked him, and pressed forward with the excise tax and Washington's march on Pennsylvania, but inside I was cartwheeling.

Unhappy People Watch TV, Happy People Read/Socialize

2011-01-15T09:09:00.000-08:00

This article I copied from HybridMom.com is PACKED with implications, conclusions, conversations waiting to happen--you may just want to read it during your favorite show's commercials:

http://www.hybridmom.com/articles/live/parenting/unhappy-people-watch-tv-happy-people-readsocialize

Newswise — A new study by sociologists at the University of Maryland concludes that unhappy people watch more TV, while people who describe themselves as very happy spend more time reading and socializing. The study appears in the December issue of the journal “Social Indicators Research.”

Analyzing 30-years worth of national data from time-use studies and a continuing series of social attitude surveys, the Maryland researchers report that spending time watching television may contribute to viewers’ happiness in the moment, with less positive effects in the long run.

“TV doesn’t really seem to satisfy people over the long haul the way that social involvement or reading a newspaper does,” says University of Maryland sociologist John P. Robinson, the study co-author and a pioneer in time-use studies. “It’s more passive and may provide escape - especially when the news is as depressing as the economy itself. The data suggest to us that the TV habit may offer short-run pleasure at the expense of long-term malaise.”

TV VIEWING DURING A FINANCIAL CRISIS

Based on data from time use surveys, Robinson projects that TV viewing might increase significantly as the economy worsens in the next few months and years.

“Through good and bad economic times, our diary studies, have consistently found that work is the major activity correlate of higher TV viewing hours,” Robinson says. “As people have progressively more time on their hands, viewing hours increase.”

But Robinson cautions that some of that extra time also might be spent sleeping. “As working and viewing hours increase, so do sleep hours,” he says. “Sleep could be the second major beneficiary of job loss or reduced working hours.”

STUDY FINDINGS AND DATA

In their new study, Robinson and his co-author, University of Maryland sociologist Steven Martin, set out to learn more about the activities that contributed to happiness in people’s lives. They analyzed two sets of data spanning nearly 30 years (1975-2006) gathered from nearly 30,000 adults:

A series of time-use studies that asked people to fill out diaries for a 24-hour period and to indicate how pleasurable they found each activity;
General Social Survey attitude studies, which Robinson calls the national premier source for monitoring changes in public attitudes – in-depth surveys that over the years consistently asked subjects how happy they feel, how they spend their time among a number of other questions.

UNHAPPY PEOPLE VIEW SIGNIFICANTLY MORE

Robinson and Martin found that the two sets of data largely coincided for most activities – with the exception of television.

From the General Social Survey, the researchers found that self-described happy people were more socially active, attended more religious services, voted more and read more newspapers. By contrast, unhappy people watched significantly more television in their spare time.

According to the study’s findings, unhappy people watch an estimated 20 percent more television than very happy people, after taking into account their education, income, age and marital status – as well as other demographic predictors of both viewing and happiness.

UNHAPPY PEOPLE ARE HAPPY WITH TV

Data from time-diaries told a somewhat different story. Responding in “real time,” much closer to daily events, survey respondents tended to rate television viewing more highly as a daily activity.

“What viewers seem to be saying is that ‘While TV in general is a waste of time and not particularly enjoyable, the shows I saw tonight were pretty good,’ ” Robinson says.

The data also suggested to Robinson and Martin that TV viewing was “easy.” Viewers don’t have to go anywhere, dress up, find company, plan ahead, expend energy, do any work or spend money in order to view. Combine these advantages with the immediate gratification offered by television, and you can understand why Americans spend more than half their free time as TV viewers, the researchers say.

Unhappy people were also more likely to feel they have unwanted extra time on their hands (51 percent) compared to very happy people (19 percent) and to feel rushed for time (35 percent vs. 23 percent). Having too much time and no clear way to fill it was the bigger burden of the two.

AN ADDICT’S FIX

Martin likens the short, temporary pleasure of television to addiction: “Addictive activities produce momentary pleasure but long-term misery and regret,” he says. “People most vulnerable to addiction tend to be socially or personally disadvantaged. For this kind of person, TV can become a kind of opiate in a way. It’s habitual, and tuning in can be an easy way of tuning out.”

The point of this post is not to slam TV or movies, but to offer A BETTER WAY. That's what education is supposed to do. All legal work has dignity, but education offers choices. I ache when I think of all the wonderful hours my students miss if they haven't yet discovered the magic of reading.

Teaching the Bill of Rights? Easy and Fun!

2011-01-06T17:55:00.000-08:00

How to Help Kids Learn the Bill of Rights in Six (Mostly) Easy and Fun Steps

1. Pass out the amendments, and as a class, "translate" them into 8th grade English. Answer a billion legal questions along the way. Make sure you either have a J. D. degree, know a lawyer, or are good friends with Mr. Google.

2. Have the kids draw visual aids to help them associate the rights with their numbers. I draw them step-by-step, and the kids are able to reproduce them. Here are the raw, unretouched pictures I used today, #2 - 10, scrawled without knowing I'd be posting them. (Amendment One is in the first picture, and it's lame.)

Amendment Two is the right to bear arms. My bear has a gun-shaped two. Today I dressed period four's bear as Rambo.

Amendment Three:

"No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law."

We call this the NO QUARTERING amendment. Get it? No quarters? Bahahaha.

This amendment protects privacy, so the fence made of fours protects the happy private guy in his four-shaped house. "The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized." The "fours" is with him--bahahaha, I crack me up.

The fifth amendment has waaaaay too many details to individually depict in one simple graphic, so we just draw the basic fact: citizens' lives, liberties, and property are protected by due process. Here's the picture--take it--take the fifth! Get it? Get it? Bahahaha.

Like its predecessor, we simply boil the sixth down with the catch-all title "The Rights of the Accused." I draw a downright accusable-looking dude who is obviously enjoying his rights.

Amendment Seven says you get a juried trial as long as what you are in court is worth more than twenty bucks. Here, the dozen sevens are transformed into jurors through the miracle of modern medicine, eye transplants. OK, so I just drew a dot on each one, but I prefer to be a bit dramatic.

The eighth amendment prohibits excessive bail, excessive fines, and cruel and unusual punishment. Slap a number 8 behind bars and put a smile on his face because jail is fairly tame, or make an 8-shaped noose. I wondered if my noose was good enough, but then I remembered: no noose is good noose. Bahahaha.

Amendment Nine effectively says that we the people have waaaay more rights than are listed in the Bill of Rights. So many ways to portray this. But remember, I teach 8th graders, so I picked this one just for them. Bahahahaha! "Picked one"!! Ahh, I kill me...

Amendment Ten is like Amendment Nine for states. It says that if a power isn't specifically listed as belonging to the federal government, then the state has that power. Here is the mighty state of TENnessee showing his comparative strength to the federal government. I hint that this is the amendment that is a source of the Civil War-dun dun dunnnnn!--but they are too busy drawing to tune in.

3. Next, give each kid an amendment (or in the case of #1, 5, 6, and 8, PARTS of an amendment) for homework. The kid draws an example of the amendment on the front of a folded piece of blank paper and writes the amendment inside. The next day, set up a Gallery Walk where kids, using their notes, check out each other's art, trying to guess which amendment is portrayed. We do ours in a big circle, moving to the next art piece when I give a signal.

I let the kids do a silent victory dance if they guessed correctly. The Macarena surfaced today, along with the Hand Jive, the Sprinkler, the MC Hammer, the Robot and other classics. (The Michael Jackson crotch grab is verboten.)

4. Next, spend ten thousand hours making flash cards with the amendment (or PARTS of the amendment) on one side and the number on the reverse. Make enough sets, one per group of three for your whole class. (California's class sizes that meant I went through ten thousand reams of paper.) It's a hassle, but you will have them for a long time. I keep mine in ten thousand plastic baggies.

5. Have them play Bill of Rights Slap Jack©! Man, this really is fun. The dealer (who doesn't play) places a card, word side up, on the desk. The two players think and then whoever slaps and says the amendment correctly keeps the card. If a kid is incorrect, the dealer takes back the card AND one of the incorrect kid's previously won cards. Ouch--that stops random guessing! Winner of the most cards becomes the dealer.

Seriously, the kids love this game. Everyone gets better, and after a few rounds I put the dominators in groups together so they stay challenged, and the slower reflexed, thinkers, readers get mastery in less intimidating groups. NO ONE FEELS BAD about not being a dominator!

Listen, it really is super fun. If kids get hung up on who was first and all that nonsense, a quick game of Rock/Paper/Scissors ends the dispute so I never have to get involved. Everyone loves Bill of Rights Slap Jack ©--the seminar kids begged to keep playing, and the regular kids cheered when I said we'd play more tomorrow.

#6. For tonight's homework, they are prepping for my middle school version of Car Talk's Stump the Chump: each kid writes a short story that has a character who is getting three rights violated. Tomorrow, I will read some and the kids will have to figure out what amendments were violated. FUN. And then more Bill of Rights Slap Jack©, and then a test on Monday.

Lemme 'Splain

2010-12-29T09:08:00.000-08:00

Like Lucy to Ricky, lemme 'splain what that soda haiku of December 21st is about.

Leftover sodas from a staff birthday drew whiney requests: "Pleeeease can I have one?" Annoyed Teacher tossed curt denials: "No."

Annoyed Teacher SHOULD HAVE moved the soda, but you must know that "Annoyed Teacher" is really the code name for "Unorganized Teacher." The sodas, like many things in my classroom, remained where they landed.

And then I got sick. Waaay sick. Four days at home, sick. When I returned we teachers were celebrating another staff bday, and when I went to get the sodas, all that remained was the empty box.

In over twenty years of edumacation I never have sustained a personal theft (well, Molly the Dolly was stolen, but that's another story) until these stupid sodas. Witnesses named names, the accused denied and shifted blame and did some hard time at Saturday School, but never did they apologize or replace the stolen goods and believe me, it has cost Annoyed/Unorganized Teacher some effort to treat the thieves with forgiveness, not because I care about soda, but because honesty and integrity are the principles I hold most dear. The thieves showed no remorse so I am left to believe that their entitled rationalizations ("The teacher can afford it/I deserve it/I love Diet Dr Pepper/She wasn't drinking them") outweighed their consciences and respect for me. It has shaken my trust in all kids. Is my purse safe? What about the loose change we save for the leukemia drive? What about the reward candy I stash in the lectern?

Truth be told, it's hard to smile at the thieves. I guess I haven't really forgiven them.

Stolen soda/Stolen trust

2010-12-21T16:21:00.000-08:00

They were just sodas.

But when I discovered their

theft, my heart nearly broke...

It's over! At least, it's ending...

2010-12-17T19:04:00.000-08:00

The recession, that is. Six gift cards say so.

My completely unscientific method began some years ago when Mr. Recession came to San Diego. It's a little embarrassing, but I and the cool English teacher down the row were taking off for Christmas break and, comparing notes, we found that neither had received as many gifts--most notably, fewer Starbucks cards--as usual. Parents are very generous and supportive of us and our school, and I have even had to call one with the intent to return a gift (per our ethics department and my conscience): a Coach purse. (The parent laughed and said if I knew the deep discount she got at the outlet, I'd never have called.) So both of us noticed the precipitous decline from eighty dollars' worth (I know! Blessings!) to one five dollar card. It's embarrassing to notice, but unmistakeable. And donations of toys for our local firefighters to help needy children declined. And donations for items for our school's silent auction dried up, too. Kids didn't mob the Krispy Kreme fundraisers, either.

Now the love remained unchanging: handwritten cards, heartfelt notes--the very best gifts of all; tons of homemade goods, exotic candy canes. Mr. Recession, like the Grinch, could not stop Christmas from coming.

But this year is different, and now you know: six gift cards (about sixty dollars' worth) tell me more than economic analysts. Mr. Recession is packing his bags.

Awkward Moments in Teaching, II

2010-12-07T17:33:00.000-08:00

In an earlier post, I wrote of embarrassing things that kids say as a function of learning. Two more for the record:

So today after school B. is working on her U.S. Constitution project when she randomly asks, "Miss M., does gonorrhea come from Ghana?" (Obviously, B. listens more than she reads, apparently thinking she has found a common root word between the two names. No one is around, so it doesn't stop the show. I am grateful she has waited until school is out to inquire.)

And last week: as my seminar class is learning about impeachment, T. raises his hand. "I feel a tad immature for mentioning this, but I cannot let it pass."

He has a near photographic memory, articulates his thoughts beautifully with no "ums" or uhs," and has won the title "Most Likely to Go to Harvard" from his peers. We wait to hear what golden fact or erudite opinion will drop from his lips. "Go ahead, T., we're waiting..."

"I find it highly interesting that all past presidents in danger of impeachment had names which were euphemisms for penis."

REALLY???? Are you kidding me???? I can't believe he feels free to bring this up. (But of course, as usual, T. is right.)

First Dinner, Then Dessert

2010-12-05T13:49:00.000-08:00

Plans are completed

(God and middle schoolers smile)

Now I'm free to play!

It's waaay too much work...

2010-12-01T14:30:00.000-08:00

to not go to work....

Today is day two of Lola vs Laryngitis. My brother, a nephew and a cousin all felt funky around Thanksgiving, and being the sharing family that we are, they gave me their funk. First day back from break, though, I began to sound like Arnold Schwarzenegger (not a good sound for me, by the way). It was clear by lunch that I would soon be voiceless.

Now coming off of break, I was ready to launch a multiday project on the Constitution with my history classes and Animal Farm with my English kiddos. Too sick to really be creative, I grabbed Haley's Roots from the

media center. God bless Alex Haley.

OK, that took care of Tuesday.

But by noon on Tuesday it was clear that my AWOL voice wasn't even close to coming home. I am emphatically NOT a movie-showing teacher. Moreover, teaching history in California is like the Bionic Man racing to disarm the bomb attached to the Liberty Bell*: the CST is in May and I can't be stuck in Washington's administration when they are tested on post-Reconstruction. SOOOO today's guest teacher forged ahead and launched the project.

That is, after I spent two hours typing up instructions and going to my classroom to get the model projects ready and the handouts I had already copied ready for Guest Teacher #2.

And now my voice has come back, but it is all pipes and wheezes and kitten-weak. My friend is subbing for me tomorrow and she has my number so that's good. I am under no delusions that B-5 will fall apart when I'm gone. But being gone for three days with three different guest teachers at the end of a grading period is not gonna do wonders for the kids' education, either.

Do I feel guilty? Yes. Is it beyond my control? Yes. There are teachers who are out on a moment's notice--they have a child suddenly sick, or the surf's up. How do they do it?

*couldn't find it online, so here is the epic fight with Bigfoot instead.

Thirsty

2010-11-30T22:47:00.000-08:00

I spent the evening with others who love, enjoy, and respect the works and life of C. S. Lewis. The president of the C.S. Lewis Foundation, Dr. Stanley Mattson, was our guest, and as he spoke, and when he played a video of this coming summer's Oxbridge Summer Institute, I teared up.

I am an educator for many reasons, and one of them is my love of and belief in the power and beauty of words and ideas. Now, the culture we inhabit is one that is dominated by the body--its primal needs and desires, and advertisers capitalize on these themes to possess the minds, tastes, time and money of my students (of us all, really). Part of my classroom mission is to open kids' eyes to ideas beyond their 13 year old persons, and to open their hearts and minds to the great things inside themselves and in the world.

Confession: I've recently admitted to myself that I'm an intellectual. Sounds snooty (mainstream American culture regards intellectuals with suspicion at best and derision at worst), but I looked it up, and yep, I care about ideas and stuff. You can only imagine what that video dangled in front of me: a chance to hang out with other nerds who care about ideas and words and learning and love and truth.

This is from the website--just a teensy bit shortened:

"...[W]e will address the question whether, and to what extent, cultural transformation is desirable or possible. Then, more specifically, in mathematics and the natural sciences, we will explore the implications of contemporary physics and quantum theory for the Christian message of hope and meaning.

In literature, philosophy, history, and theology, we will examine the origins and significance of the crisis of vision in order to engage the mainstream culture from an understanding characterized by genuine sympathy and integrity.

Our leaders from the social and behavioral sciences and cultural studies will consider the roots of chaos and dysfunction in our families, cities, and culture, and will explore paradigms based on Christian themes that hold hope for the transformation of lives and culture.

Our colleagues in theatre, dance, music, visual art, and film will lead us in understanding the dimensions of the crisis of the loss of vision, and they will also help us palpably sense the power of transforming vision.

Finally, in worship throughout the Summer Institute, as well as through active prayer, we will own the crisis in our own lives that leads us to Christ, and celebrate the hope that springs from both acknowledging and appealing to the transcendent source of all goodness and beauty."

Oh, yes, I'm going. I am going to be around literate, thoughtful, dynamic, joyful, creative people from all over the world, from all Christian traditions, and I want to come back transformed and equipped and ready. I can't wait to meet more kindred spirits--I already met one this evening, dear Stanley Mattson.

I didn't know I was so thirsty until tonight.

the best people I know work in schools

2010-11-29T20:09:00.000-08:00

So I'm on MugBook Sunday evening and find that one of my dear colleagues had posted a list titled "10 Reasons Why I Can't Wait To Get Back To Work Tomorrow."

Really: how many people do you know who love their jobs that much? Then another colleague posted his list, so I followed suit. Here are the lists with just a few changes to protect privacy 'n' stuff--get ready to ride the Positivity Train to Optimism City:

10 Reasons Why I Can't Wait To Get Back To Work Tomorrow by K.

1. It is healthy to have a routine.

2. My routine is my passion--even though it is a daunting one.

3. My students keep me grounded.

4. My students make me laugh.

5. I am contributing to the greater good of society.

6. I love my colleagues--except when M. calls me names.

7. I love giving M. a difficult time.

8. I love to warm myself by the copy machine.

9. Can't wait to eat lunch with the girls.

10. Going back means I am that much closer to Winter Vacation.

10 Reasons Why I Can't Wait To Get Back To Work Tomorrow by J.

1. The students of B-11

2. The students of B-11

3. The students of B-11

4. The students of B-11

5. The students of B-11

6. I can't wait to see their African Masks!

7. I can't wait to give back the "Islamic Bound Books" project

8. I can't wait to start work on the African Griot Storytellers project ( 1 week away!!!)

9. I can't wait to see my homies K., C., ( hopefully she's better ) A., M., A., S., E., M., S., P., C., etc. etc.

10. I can't wait to holler out " Hey M.!" at 6:30 A.M. at you know who.......

10 Reasons Why I Can't Wait To Get Back To Work Tomorrow by Lola

1. I love 8th graders

2. My colleagues are as inspiring as they are good looking and humorous

3. My 6th grade advisory class: cuteness defined

4. What crazy thing will C.T. (period 1) say next?

5. Gonna launch Animal Farm--can't wait to hear their perspectives about power

6. When you're a teacher, you're famous--kids yell "HI TEACHER!!!" from miles away

7. I wanna see how much the kids remembered about the Constitution over break

8. The lunch ladies sell these really yummy cookies

9. Some kids turned in a bunch of makeup work and I get to tell them how improved their grades are now

10. S.'s hugs

(BTW, "M." is our awesome custodian--how awesome is he? He turned the heat on in my bungalow this morning so when I got there it was habitable!! LOVE HIM! Love the people I work with! Another colleague, S., read on Mugbook that I was feeling yucky, and she brought me matzah ball soup! Is it like this in the corporate world?)

a heart full of gratitude and warmth

2010-11-18T21:15:00.000-08:00

I've been a bit low regarding my career lately, so how lovely and timely was the call that came yesterday period 7: a delivery of flowers for me! "Read the card! Who sent them?"

But there was no name, and so we have a mystery--a kind and generous and beautiful mystery. That someone would take the time, money, and energy to lift me that way is beyond wonderful. I will definitely be paying this forward.

Here is the card:

Here are the flowers:

Here is my heart:

God is so very ridiculously good to me. He is my Shepherd, assuredly. It's true that goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. It's true that He makes me lie down in green pastures, and I need nothing because of His provision. He goes out of His way to show me love in ways both humble and divine. I wish I were more faithful and trusting than I am. But one thing He knows: I have a grateful heart and I know Who to thank.

Sobs and Shock

2010-11-12T17:59:00.000-08:00

Poetic justice and a few heavy hearts this morning. I tell ya, middle school is many things, but "boring" isn't one of them.

Before school on campus this morning, a well-loved colleague noticed a boy launching an aerosol can into the air, an impressive use of physics' principles of pressure and force. She strolled over to stop the ersatz rocket antics. "Boys will be boys," she thought.

When she picked up the spent can, though, her heart sank. The can's label had been whited out and on it was scrawled "Jew Repellant."

Imagine the walk to the office. Imagine the kid looking for a loophole, saying he didn't know what "repellant" was. Imagine the kid blaming "South Park" for the idea. Imagine the kid's horror upon learning that my colleague is Jewish. Imagine his tears--real sobs--his apologies, his "I didn't mean to hurt you." Imagine her letting him know she forgives him. Imagine the kid's dread of the call to his parents. Imagine the kid's shock when the police come to the school because yes, this is a reportable hate crime.

You know what I have trouble imagining? What to say to him when he returns to school.

The Angry Colonist

2010-11-07T10:08:00.000-08:00

After reading a batch of student work, I mentioned to my students that many of them were forgetting to pluralize "colonists", inadvertently dropping the "s" from the word. We joked about how funny it was to read about this one angry colonist:

"The colonist threw snowballs at the British soldiers in front of the Customs House, taunting them to fire."

"The colonist boarded the ships and threw 342 chests of tea into Boston Harbor."

"Paine wrote 'Common Sense' to persuade the colonist to support independence."

"The colonist fired at the retreating British, from Concord to Boston."

Seminar student N. now spends all of his spare time drawing pictures of the Angry Colonist. My favorite is the Angry Colonist clinging to the underside of Washington's boat as he crosses the Delaware, hitching a ride so he can pour out his anger on the sleeping Hessians.

You should know that all pictures of the Angry Colonist depict him foaming at the mouth.

Miracle or Money?

2010-11-07T09:46:00.000-08:00

Hmm. Upon reading this NYT article about visionary Geoffrey Canada's charter school, I arrive at a slightly different conclusion about the efficacy of charter schools:

"In the tiny high school of the zone’s Promise Academy I, which teaches 66 sophomores and 65 juniors (it grows by one grade per year), the average class size is under 15, generally with two licensed teachers in every room. There are three student advocates to provide guidance and advice, as well as a social worker, a guidance counselor and a college counselor, and one-on-one tutoring after school."

In my school, we teach about 1000 kids, about 300 of each grade level. Average class size in history is over 34 with one licensed teacher. We have two guidance counselors. But seriously, two teachers for 15 kids?

And then there's this:

"The school, which opened in 2004 in a gleaming new building on 125th Street, should have had a senior class by now, but the batch of students that started then, as sixth graders, was dismissed by the board en masse before reaching the ninth grade after it judged the students’ performance too weak to found a high school on. Mr. Canada called the dismissal 'a tragedy.' "

And where do these dismissed 8th graders go? Oh yes, to public school where WE TAKE THEM. And what happens to the average score of the school that kicks them out? And what happens to the average score of the schools that take them?

We take them all.

1994 and 2010

2010-11-05T20:01:00.000-07:00

In December of 1994, I realized I wasn't happy. Teaching wasn't fun anymore. Too much work, too little pay off. Weekends filled with paperwork, class sizes of 38, a block schedule that left me feeling disconnected to the students, three subjects to prepare for (in teacher parlance, three preps)--two I'd never taught before--and all in a new school. The history department was warm, but the English department was Siberia.

I took three years' leave of absence.

The first year I went to several career counselors, did every exercise in Richard Bolles's What Color Is Your Parachute, read books like crazy, went to Europe for three weeks, and did a lot of thinking. Thinking, reading--a good time.

The second year I went to Harvard University's Graduate School of Education to earn a master's degree. I had to choose a concentration, and though administration never had held (nor does it now) any charm, I chose Administration, Planning, and Social Policy. A believer in the transformational power of education, the social policy aspects seemed attractive. I learned much about charter schools, and even had one class co-taught by Tony Alvarado, my future superintendent Alan Bersin's future right hand man.

The third year I hunted for positions as a staff developer, naively thinking my fancy master's degree would be powerful enough to counter my lack of experience in staff development. I taught a few classes at National University (more on that in a future post), worked at Sylvan Learning Center for a few bucks above minimum wage, and....ran out of money.

Back to SDUSD and into the greatest job ever. I was in love again, passionate about becoming the Best Teacher Ever. Impossible, of course, but I wanted every class to be better than the one before, tried every lesson to improve; I wanted to be a part of the transformation of kids' lives. I worked very hard, was inspired by the amazing staff I worked with, and felt like I was making a difference.

A decade later, and I am feeling like it's 1994 all over again. I don't know what to do.

today's parent conference

2010-11-04T20:50:00.000-07:00

THREE parents, one kid:

how can it be that the kid

does not do homework?

a 6th grader's request

2010-11-02T16:46:00.000-07:00

"Can I have a pass?"
His eyes are large and tragic.
"To the counselor?"

Snap judgment: "Sure. Why?"
"I kinda wanna kill myself...."
My eyes embrace his.

The Children of Lake Wobegon vs the Bell Curve

2010-10-31T07:44:00.000-07:00

Normal Distribution

Lots of phenomena in nature and human experience, when charted, creates a classic bell curve*, human height, for one. There are a few giants running around, some little people, but most of us are clumped together toward the center of a chart which plots the numbers of people on the x axis and their heights on the y axis.

Intelligence is supposedly distributed normally, but there is a ton of controversy about that. And there is also the body of research that suggests that intelligence is plastic, that we can get smarter--or more stupid. (Of course, grade school, jump-roping girls have always known that "Boys go to Jupiter/To get more stupider.")

NCLB, State Standards, and Critical Thinking

Every U.S. state tests its students on standards that each state invented. Some states have EASY standards, a few, like California, have TOUGH ones. Take a glance at this comparative study done by the Fordham Foundation of all the states--it's revealing:

http://www.edexcellence.net/detail/news.cfm?news_id=358

Here are how California's content standards were rated:

http://www.edexcellence.net/detail/news.cfm?news_id=358&pubsubid=1283#1283

Because each state is measuring different items, we can't accurately compare states' student performance. California may appear to be scoring lower than, say, Massachusetts, but since California's standards are so much tougher, are the students really less educated? If the students swapped tests, would the MA kids ace the CA test? Would the CA students suddenly become more proficient?

Educators are always crying about how bad it is to "teach to the test." I argue that if you have a test worth teaching to, quit crying; for math and science, "teaching to the test" is probably a good thing. But I do have grave doubts about English and history--unless you believe that history is just names and dates (and not decision making about abstract, fuzzy, controversial concepts such as power) or that reading is mere decoding (ignoring tone, irony, inferences, word choice, and creativity). How can a multiple choice test measure such nuanced and HUMAN subjects?

To further complicate matters, here are three of the goals of No Child Left Behind (the Federal Register, 3/6/02):

1) All students will reach high standards, at a minimum attaining proficiency or better in reading and mathematics by 2013-2014

2) By 2013-2014, all students will be proficient in reading by the end of the third grade.

3) All limited English proficient students will become proficient in English. [Wow, even the newly arrived speakers?]

See why this gets tricky? If the bell curve reflects truths about human performance, then goals that "all will be proficient" are nearly impossible: "Any test that meets ordinary standards produces an approximation of...a bell curve--because achievement in any open-ended skill such as reading comprehension or mathematics really is more or less normally distributed," according to Charles Murray (WSJ, 7/25/06). "All the children cannot be above average. They cannot all even be proficient, if 'proficient' is defined legitimately." In other words, it is a self contradiction to say, as goal #1 above does, that all will reach "high standards."

Now reading is a skill, and skills are arguably teachable, but everyone knows that people master skills at different rates. If a teacher waits for 100% mastery of any skill before moving on to the next....hmmm. In order to not bore those who are ready to move on, each student will need a personally tailored educational path to help her move on only when she is ready; I can't imagine there is any way a teacher of 36 algebra students could do this on his own without computerized instruction. Very well, there are such reading and math computer programs that might be able to do this. We are trying a math program at our school this year. It'll be interesting to see what happens on the math portion of the CST. Good luck, though, trying computerized instruction with the critical thinking components of problem solving, and more good luck plus TInkerbell dust if you try to subtract the human element from teaching the elements of English and history that demand critical thinking.

K. Is Moving

All of this because I am feeling guilty about my reaction upon hearing that K.'s last day is on Monday. She is transferring to another school--and she is perhaps our lowest performing student who is not in a special day class. That's right, kids, she is on the far left end of that bell curve. No matter how I teach my guts out, K. seems to lose information and knowledge gains almost instantly. It is awful. We spend extra time with her, provide services, develop relationships--but K. persists in her gnat-like attention span, and her interest in boys and fashion do not make for academic motivators except as they are a reason to stay in school.

She is being left behind, despite all our efforts. Our good little school gets punished because the K.s of the world prevent us from meeting goal number 1 of NCLB as stated above. I wish K. the best, but the reality for public schools is we have to take ALL the kids on our softball team, not just the all stars. And dang it, K. is an "easy out."

We don't have a problem acknowledging that we are differently endowed athletically, that some of us are faster than other, for instance. But NCLB doesn't acknowledge that perhaps the same might be true intellectually; I love the social reasons for demanding the same standard for all, but practically, there are some issues.

* bell curve

A symmetrical bell-shaped curve that represents the distribution of values, frequencies, or probabilities of a set of data. It slopes downward from a point in the middle corresponding to the mean value, or the maximum probability. Data that reflect the aggregate outcome of large numbers of unrelated events tend to result in bell curve distributions. (from thefreedictionary .com)

success!

2010-10-28T18:16:00.000-07:00

I have that "threw a party, people came and had a great time, now comes the clean up, where's my bed" happy/tired feeling.

Yesterday after school, two kids helped me transform an ordinary bungalow into a classy, artsy space. Well as classy and artsy as simulated wood desks and plastic chairs and ugly metal blinds and acoustic tile ceiling would permit. Oh, and my budget--I went to IKEA and bought rolls of sheer panels in a tasteful array of IKEA's customary weird colors (what is up with their color palette, anyway?); a ladder, a dozen prints from American artists, four blue tablecloths and handfuls of push pins later....

...in they trooped, all wearing black like we agreed to. It was gratifying to hear their cries of delight, I've gotta admit.

Up the ramp came our computer delivery for those with power point projects. Our cool tech chick helped set them up.

All but one had their books ready, and all but one had their art projects ready. Pretty good, no?

Two sainted parents arrived, one with fudge, one with a chocolate fountain, both with willing hands to set up and serve as the kids brought a ton of high fat, low nutrient refreshments.

A little Segovia and bossa nova for background music helped us set up, and in ten minutes, we had our salon going!

My biggest fear was that kids would be so food-frenzied that, piranha-like, nothing would be visible but a haze of chocolate and Fritos, that the carpet would be a sticky ant trap and their books and art would be ignored. And I am thrilled to record that my biggest fear did SO NOT come true! Just the opposite! (Well, there was a chocolate haze around some--the boys, especially, were prone to strange asymmetrical moustaches, and one had what looked like brown fangs after multiple trips to the chocolate fountain.)

They sat and read. They looked at the collages and paintings. Little cries of, "You've gotta see T's project!" and "Have you seen J's pictures?" sounded for nearly two hours. A handful of parents came--one cried actual tears as she read a student's story about getting beat up at a previous school--the principal took a tour as well as the library tech and her monitors...

Now one reason I hate cooking is my doubt. I figure people are just being polite when they say they like something, because I lose my appetite when cooking and it tastes weird to me. But today was different. When adults said they enjoyed the event, I believed them. When I got an email from the cool tech chick about how it was a pleasure and she was impressed and she wants to help next time, I believed her.

When we debriefed at the end, I asked what they'd add, subtract, or change, or keep. "Keep the music and decorations!" "Keep the food!" "We need a bigger space!" "Invite more people!" There was nothing they'd subtract!

The cool thing is I hope to host another salon, and I know they will be up for it and even more into it. So I am thinking of having them come as Americans we are studying, having them produce a magazine of that era as the written piece, and as the art piece, maybe the person's photo album. They would dress in character and their conversations would be in character. What would John Brown say to Honest Abe? How would Andy Jackson get along with Abigail Adams? We already know how Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr got on...

For now, I will sleep the sleep of the bone-tired, heart-happy, anxiety-relieved hostess. The taxpayers got waaaay more than their money's worth today. We all did.

Tomorrow's Salon/Definitions #2 and #3

2010-10-27T19:20:00.000-07:00

Tablecloths, music,

art and curtains everywhere--

will it be worthwhile?

Will their artwork hold

our eyes and minds? Will their autobiographies?

Will parents see hours

of thinking, or just hungry

teens, scarfing down snacks?

Are the outcomes worth

the time? Can art compete with

a chocolate fountain?

[sa·lon (s-ln, sln, s-lô)

1. A large room, such as a drawing room, used for receiving and entertaining guests.

2. A periodic gathering of people of social or intellectual distinction.

3. A hall or gallery for the exhibition of works of art.

4. A commercial establishment offering a product or service related to fashion: a beauty salon.]

Join the Jedi

2010-10-23T15:38:00.000-07:00

He came midyear, and after his first day, all the girls were in love with him and all the guys wanted to be him. Teachers, parents, friends--Bruce Davis, Jr made us glad to know him. He wasn't the best writer, but his astute comments during class discussions made involvement in education important, cool, even. Nobody goofed off when Bruce was around; he just thought it was silly to be disrespectful.

He was voted president of the middle school's African American Club and his leadership was palpable: positivity, peace, levelheadedness, sensibility, faithfulness all characterized this gifted young man. I believe he won "Most Leadership" in our school yearbook.

He moved to Mississippi after his sophomore year, graduated from high school, was attending community college--and was fatally shot in the chest this October 15.

In looking for more information about his murder, my heart broke to read that the violence was allegedly due to a drug deal gone bad. I didn't want to believe it. It had to be his cousin's deal, not his own. But a tribute video included some pictures that told of choices that Bruce had made--choices that included a gang, if I were to believe the bandana covering his mouth, or the sign he threw as one picture was taken, or his gang moniker tattooed across his chest.

When did he join? When he still lived in San Diego? When did he get involved with drugs? And the bigger question: Why did he go in that direction?

WHY DOES THAT GANG LIFESTYLE APPEAR SO ATTRACTIVE TO OUR YOUTH?? I am heartbroken. But I am also so angry I can't see straight. My stomach is a knot. Some kids don't have a caring family, don't have a strong sense of self, don't know better, have family members with a long history of thugging. But Bruce doesn't seem to fit that pattern.

I fight it, that lifestyle, every day. It only looks like I teach history and English. I am really teaching a belief system. I teach kids to believe in hard work, in excellence, in patience, in goals, in choosing the better way. I am just one soldier; other teachers, a scout leader, a youth pastor, a coach, an uncle--we are all Jedi fighting against the dark side of the Force, against the lure of fame and fortune hawked by music videos and lifestyles of those celebrities and athletes who serve the gods of Self and Pleasure above all. We Jedi do not save them all. And we do not know our influence; when we hear such discouraging news, it's easy to feel that our fight is of no avail, especially in the face of the money machines of Madison Avenue, of the music industry, of Hollywood. But by God Almighty let us continue to fight the good fight in the hopes of saving others, of helping our children reject destruction, drugs and death.

I love you, Bruce. The real Bruce, not the fake one in the picture above, but the young man I am posting here in his graduation robes. The fact that Bruce was in community college shows that he was still a believer in education, and that the fake Bruce in the evil picture hadn't completely won the battle. I'd like to believe that had Bruce lived, he would have one day joined us and been a most powerful Jedi, or like Anakin Skywalker, come back at the end. R.I.P., Bruce Davis, Jr. You will be missed.

RIP Bruce Davis, Jr.

2010-10-23T15:07:00.000-07:00

shot dead, and for what?

so furious I'm crying

heartbroken-- such loss--

you bought a lie, Bruce.

thugging only ends two ways

one of them found you

you shone with promise

charisma trailing your steps

everyone loved you

the biggest crime: your

choice robbed all of us of you,

of our pride and joy

walmart's parking lot?

I was going to vote for you

I believed in you

it's hard enough to forgive, but when the criminal is also the victim...?

Michelle Rhee isn't Superman

2010-10-15T22:11:00.000-07:00

She gave it her best.

My daddy always thought unions for white collar work were anomalies. Even the pitbull Ms Rhee is no match for unions. I am so sad. She is quitting, leaving the superintendency of Washington D.C. schools for her fiancé and maybe California. (This proves she is sane.)

Saw "Waiting for Superman" this week. I was defensive walking into the theater, but I really liked it, even though many didn't--click HERE for a link to an article outlining why by Washington Post guest blogger Rick Ayers. Its premise: that public schools are broken. (My colleague says it's a bit dramatic to make such a sweeping statement in light of the ambitious goal of American education--to teach EVERYONE--and the fact that our colleges are full and we still have doctors and lawyers and mayors and so forth. Among his many objections, one is that almost every other developed nation sends kids to tracked schools such as voc. ed. schools as early as middle school, instead of trying to prepare EVERYONE for university.)

The film offers charter schools as the answer. Yet the film itself notes that only one in five charter schools is better than public schools; some 40% are worse. The film fails to mention the high turnover rate in these high performing charters (it keeps costs down since teachers leave before retirement pay, benefits, or raises get too high).

I teach public school and I totally support charter schools. I just think it's shortsighted--nah, just plain stupid--to think they are a panacea. Especially the ones featured in the film. If you feel special because you won a coveted spot in a charter, hmmm, if your parent(s) are involved enough in your education to pursue a spot in a charter along with the time and requisite paperwork it takes to apply....hmmmm: consider the effects on the student body, student motivation, parent involvement, etc etc. Kind of a positive snowball effect, really.They aren't really comparable to public schools, neither the good nor the evil.

It kills me that public schools are uneven, that there are bad teachers who are so tough to fire, that in the same district there can be de facto segregation and inequities. I find tenure deplorable. Even so, God bless public schools. We take them ALL, from the blind to the mentally ill to the supergeniuses to the average pimply self-conscious child of a single mom who works the night shift to children of the Cosbys to those with Down syndrome. We take the ones who hail from traditions without a written language (the Hmong), the homeless, the pregnant, those in foster homes, those in gangs. We take the ones kicked out of other public schools, ones who have been to jail for hitting teachers. Heck, this year I even have a student with albinism, African American at that--my first white black person. (No Michael Jackson references, please; I never taught him.) We make it our goal to teach them all the same rigorous curriculum. If results are uneven, who is surprised? Who?? When was the last time that person set foot in a local middle school classroom for an hour?

My personal experience as a student has been bell curvish--most of my teachers were ok, kinda blah, mediocre...a few beastly ones and a few diamonds. Even Geoffrey Canada admits in the film that he was sucky his first few years (would Rhee have fired him before he had a chance to develop into the father of an amazing charter school?)--who isn't?

Maybe it's a coincidence that my experiences echo the law of averages, maybe not. Maybe as budgets tighten and teaching spots become scarce and there is greater competition for spots, the quality of teachers will rise.

Or maybe people in college will pursue options that have better press and better pay--especially math and science folk. And schools will have to remain the takers of the two kinds of people who go into teaching: those who come for the fabled and probably doomed two month's vacation, and those who come for love. Because no one comes for the cash.

Waitin' for George Clooney

2010-10-09T16:26:00.000-07:00

It was one of my student's birthday this Friday, but instead of hurrying off with her friends to begin celebrations, she said she had something for me. “Be with you in a sec--I have to get X. his homework.” And A. patiently waited for me to do so.

Five minutes later, her face beaming, she reaches into her purse saying, “I have no idea how this got into my coat,” pulls out a gigantical chocolate bar and hands it to me. Now earlier in the year the kids found out I don’t like cheese, and A. announced she didn’t like chocolate. “OK, then, whenever any chocolate finds its way into your hands, I will be happy to relieve you of the burden,” I had joked with her, pleased to find someone with tastebuds as strange as mine.

“A, it’s YOUR birthday, not mine! What is this all about?”

“It’s not what it seems,” says A. “There’s something inside.”

“Like a golden ticket? Are you Willy Wonka?”

“No. You’ll see.”

I ask, “Should I open it now?” and even as I ask, I can see she wants me to. So I slide the wrapper off, and carefully wrapped around the foil is a handwritten note. I open it--it’s in pink and purple pen and dated March, 1773....

March 1773?

I have to explain. The day before we had learned about the Boston Tea Party and I had told them about a colonist for whom the temptation was just too much--while the other Sons of Liberty swept every trace of tea into the harbor, he surreptitiously stuffed the lining of his coat with handfuls of the boycotted stuff. He was discovered by others and shall we just say that they ruined more than just his coat. To help the kids understand, I’d said, “Think about how hard it would be to throw Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups overboard, knowing it would be ages before you could taste one again. I suppose I can understand the would-be tea thief...”

And now that you know the back story, here is a direct transcript of her note:

“Dear Ms. M, 1773

This is Ashley, the top reporter in the press. It is 1773 the boycott is going great. You should be happy to know that we decided to name it the California Chocolate Party.

And we ( the sons and daughters of liberty) decided that we should go to the boat and eat all the chocolate in the boat. You know that I dislike chocolate didn’t eat any but still attended because I needed everything to be in order.

Well, as we were cleaning ourselves up I was going to check on them but I noticed that there is something quite large in my pocket. I look and its chocolate.

So I have nothing to do with it except give it to you.

Have a lovely day and if any extra duties (haha you read duties*) just tell me and I will assist to them. Happy thought and love, Ashley W.”

Thus ended the fifth week of school--and this is even better than a raise, George Clooney, and chocolate combined because I ACTUALLY GOT CHOCOLATE!!!

*Remember that I teach 8th grade so I make gross jokes before they can. Whenever we read about customs duties, I laughed and said, “Doodies!” and the class would giggle and snort. Mature? Not at all. Spoonful of sugar? Yes, please, Mary Poppins.

bungalow math

2010-09-26T20:24:00.000-07:00

mercantilism

+ sweaty adolescents

in a bungalow

99°

= an aromatic

and pungent Monday

_______________________

dread

2010-09-26T20:08:00.000-07:00

The weather in San Diego is beautiful. Today it was dry, upwards of 95°. Like a thumping bass in the car next to you at a street light, insistent and relentless, is the thought that tomorrow I will be in the bungalow with 36 thirteen year olds and no air conditioning.

Oh, I tell myself, it's so much worse elsewhere. Think of Jamaica--no a/c and 60 kids in a class and no books. Or Haiti, whose schools are still being constructed.

But I can't stop the thoughts from pounding. That bungalow is a slow cooker. There will be kids in there for four consecutive hours. My windows face south so there won't even be a breeze. Sitting in the wooden oven that is my portable classroom is a challenge for all but recent immigrants from Jamaica or Haiti.

Do you know what thirteen year olds smell like after being in the sun for an hour? Do you know how they complain when their comfort zone is messed with? Do you know how hard it is to teach and learn about mercantilism (not so sexy in the best of conditions!) when sitting in a 100° room? I do, and hence the dread.

GLORY in a middle school hallway

2010-09-15T18:15:00.000-07:00

After lunch, I am racing down the hall to beat the incoming crew when I notice we have two new boys with disabilities. One has Down syndrome, and the other is lying in a carriage-type contraption, body all twisted, head craning, arms flailing, being pushed by Ms A.

"Hey, guys, are you two new here? I'm Ms M!"

Ms A. stops pushing so I can attempt to shake hands. She responds for them: "This is A., and this is K; they're both 6th graders." K, with Down, pays no attention--he is on a mission to use the bathroom and won't lose focus. But A.'s face lights up as I approach and shake his hand.

And then the GLORY.

Another student, an able bodied small blond kid I've never seen comes up beside me, fully focused on A., sticks out his hand and smiles, "And I'm T.! Welcome to our school!" and shakes A's hand heartily and sincerely before patting K. on the shoulder. A. squirms with delight.

Middle schoolers can be brutal.

But let's acknowledge how they can shine.

55°N, 37°E

2010-09-08T21:30:00.001-07:00

A few ways to help kids remember which way latitude lines run, and what latitude lines do:

The first two letters of LAtitude are L. A., which stand for Lines Across: __________________

Your face has a line of latitude--your mouth! Here's the ridiculous rhyme I made up on the spot, stupid enough that they will remember: "Latitude divides North and South, just like your mouth."

Lat = fat (ie, the lines parallel global girth)

And then I added kinesthetic learning. Arms out perpendicular to the floor, but forearms bent in with palms to the floor, we moved them out as we made tough guy faces and said aloud, "LATITUDE ATTITUDE!"

And on a paper of horizontal lines marked off by degrees, I fielded what they wanted to find and scattered them on the lines: "Bolivia!" "Atlantis!" "A million bucks!" "Waldo!" (Note: no one thought to find world peace or Osama bin Ladn.) I had their names written on decks of cards, and I asked a question, had them think of the answer, then drew a card. The class chorally confirmed or denied the student's response, and if the response was in error, the student could fix the answer or call on another student for assistance.

Then we moved onto our atlases and found countries there, although one kid actually didn't know where Canada was. Sigh. People, I teach 8th grade in the United States. Our continent is not exactly teeming with countries. Anyway, I taught them how to say yes and no in Russian, just so when parents asked what they learned in school today (such a predictable question!), instead of saying "nothing," the students could say, "Oh, we learned Russian."

...by Taylor Mali

2010-09-02T18:42:00.000-07:00

Slam poet and former teacher Taylor Mali answers the question.

Click HERE for the slightly edited version of his passionate poem, "What Teachers Make".

Houston, we have reentry

2010-08-30T20:22:00.000-07:00

I'm back in the bungalow, but so is the rat.

Drat. Drat. Drat. Drat. Drat.

Teaching

2010-08-26T08:56:00.000-07:00

It is difficult,

But when everything is right...

beautiful music

Tennis Racquets, Flutes, and Symphonies

2010-08-26T08:12:00.000-07:00

Just woke up from a school dream. First day, seminar kids, totally different classroom. I am telling them it will take me a while to "learn" them, that it takes me a little while, homework-wise, to find their sweet spot, to have patience and not be upset if the work is either too simplistic or a bit steep for them at first. A kid asks what a sweet spot is. "Who plays tennis?" I ask. A skinny pale boy with 4000 freckles raises his hand to explain, but as he begins, the bell rings.

Because it's a dream, he is suddenly a she, my former student V., and she is telling the class that if they want to know she'll tell them during break, but I ask her to please hold off until tomorrow so we can all be on the same page. And I wake up.

So I am obviously still concerned about meeting the needs of this special population.

It's true, too. To switch metaphors, each class is different and I need to learn how to coax the music out. Some classes are easy, like a piano: everything is laid out in order, black and white, straightforward. Others are like a drum: I have to really pound things and there's not much range. Others are a drum set, and there is so much to attend to! The worst are the flute classes where every little detail has to be perfect, lip position, breath amount and angle, breathing, nothing intuitive about the note production on the keys or about playing it at all, plus you have to hold your arms in an unnatural position the whole time--ugh.

(Really, things are even more complex--if you think about it, every kid is an instrument and the class is an orchestra. I am not just the conductor: I am a music teacher and a composer, too!)

Last year I was so panicky about teaching seminar kids; I suppose the dream (since I was in control, plus fully clothed!) shows I am not hyperventilating anymore. Guess I need to give myself a little grace when it comes to this crazy job. Conducting ain't as easy as it looks.

Jahja Ling, doing his thing

I wonder...

2010-08-22T23:50:00.000-07:00

Is the CST

valid? Critical thinking

and problem solving,

creativity--

are these measurable by

multiple choice tests?

a "value-added" issue--uh oh...

2010-08-22T22:24:00.000-07:00

I just got my kids' CST scores. Two kids earned perfect scores in history. Two kids missed one question out of 75. Remember, the history/social studies portion of the CST tests students on history stretching from Early Man to 1900, stuff they learn over three years right as puberty hits them hard.

Consider: there is no room for improvement for the perfect scorers, and not much for those who missed just one or two questions. Won't the next history teacher who has them look bad if someone uses "value-added analysis" to measure her effectiveness?

In a way, it will probably be easier to show gains--value-added proof-- with students with Far Below, Below, or Basic scores the year before. Teachers of the gifted may not look so shiny with value-added scores. Do you think Usain Bolt's sprint times could improve as much as mine could?

Does the value-added analysis account for the fact that the higher the score the previous year, the less room for improvement there is? Dun dun dunnnn!

Market-driven?

2010-08-20T10:07:00.000-07:00

California Secretary of Education Bonnie Reiss: "Publishing this data is not about demonizing teachers," Reiss said. "It's going to create a more market-driven approach to results."

Market-driven?

In the business world, poor service/products generally lead to the death of a company, but there are plenty of other companies happy to swoop in and fill the vacuum. That's because a company affords the opportunity for the entrepreneur to access wealth and autonomy, despite the enormous startup costs (time, money, energy, etc) and the lack of guaranteed success.

But who will swoop in to fill the vacuum of teachers at the bottom of the Times list who may lose their positions?

Don't get me wrong, there are teachers who should get the heave-ho. This list will be a wake-up call for some, and a confirmation of sinking suspicions for others. (I'm all for abolishing tenure as it currently operates, but that's for a later post.)

It's just that teaching as it is perceived by the public affords neither of the incentives the business world offers, neither wealth nor autonomy.

Because of budget cuts, there are many new teachers itching to fill the classrooms of the bottom listers. But a huge percentage of newbies drop out after less than five years. Some leave because they realize that even with the two months' vacation that lured them, there is still more work than a 9 to 5 position. Some leave because of the shock to their system that school isn't "Saved by the Bell." Some leave because it takes more than patience and love of children and good intentions to do this job. Some leave because the money disparity is silly, particularly for those with science degrees. Many leave because working conditions and demands are often ridiculous.

"Market-driven" implies supply and demand, and it works two ways in the education world. Is there a supply of teachers? Is there a supply of BETTER teachers? Has the certification process changed to reflect the realities of public school education and the findings of research?

Is there a demand for new teachers that is more than wishing? What I mean is, the public WANTS great teachers like teenage boys WANT Corvettes, but do you see teenagers driving Corvettes? No, you see middle-aged people driving them because they finally can afford to. Is there money to pay for the great teachers the public WANTS, or is the public just so many wishful teenage boys?

On the other hand, is a great teacher one who works for money? And that raises all other sorts of issues about human motivation and how that connects to the supply of teachers. As things stand, top grads tend to choose fields other than education, but some trickle into the classrooms because any profession that directly works with improving others is something of a calling. (And that's the subject of a later post, as well.)

There is no question that a great teacher is valuable, worthy of wealth and autonomy; our current system does not reflect that truth, rewarding equally the effective and the ineffective.

SEISMIC...

2010-08-18T16:43:00.000-07:00

DID YOU SEE THESE???

Who's teaching L.A.'s kids?

by Jason Felch, Jason Song and Doug Smith, Los Angeles Times, August 14, 2010

Grading the Teachers: Value-Added Analysis

Los Angeles Times, August 15, 2010

In sum, later this month, the Times is set to publish the names of everyone who has ever taught at least sixty kids in LAUSD over the past seven years with the "value-added analysis" (which I'll call "VA") of their effectiveness: "The Times used a statistical approach known as value-added analysis, which rates teachers based on their students' progress on standardized tests from year to year. Each student's performance is compared with his or her own in past years, which largely controls for outside influences often blamed for academic failure: poverty, prior learning and other factors." (from Who's teaching L.A.'s kids?)

Whoa. Talk about accountability! One gorgeous thing about this is it will finally lift the label of failures from those teachers who move their 8th graders from reading at a fourth grade level to a seventh grade level in one year. As things stand now, the school where that child attends is censured because she is not at grade level, never mind that she just moved to California last summer.

I have a big project due tomorrow at QTEL--let me tell you, reading another teacher's L.A. Times this morning did nothing for my concentration. I am bursting to talk about it with open-minded, non-defensive, logical educators. How can I focus on an anticipatory guide for the Industrial Revolution when this development is like a ten on the Richter scale of pedagogy??

In no particular order,

1) I wanna talk about tenure and the apparent lack of connection between seniority and efficacy.

2) I wanna talk about teaching as an art and a science.

3) I wanna talk about how to attract the best to this most critical of professions.

4) I wanna talk about Michelle Rhe e.

5) I wanna talk about teacher evaluation.

6) I wanna talk about improving teaching.

7) I wanna talk about achievement motivation.

8) I wanna talk about the one question no one but teachers seems to ask: does the CST really measure student learning?

9) I wanna talk about what makes teaching in a public school so very, very different from the business world.

10) I wanna talk about why teachers are so defensive and touchy about issues such as observation, merit pay, evaluation, and so forth.

(For the record, my knee-jerk, gut-level reaction to VA evaluation is YIPPEEE!!!!!!!!)

from "Tuesdays with Morrie"

2010-08-14T10:42:00.000-07:00

The last page:

"Have you ever really had a teacher? One that saw you as a raw but precious thing, a jewel that, with wisdom, could be polished to a proud shine?"

The Jetsons

2010-08-13T09:48:00.000-07:00

My principal, best in the known universe, sent this to us and I need to post it here so I can remember to try to use it this coming semester. Watch it till the end to see something really killer! How can I best utilize this awesomeness? How? How? Dunno yet, but dang!

ZOOBURST tutorial

So in thinking about technology and its uses, we get really excited about stuff like this. Of course we do--the cool factor is off the chart. Each innovation feels like we are in the future, living the Jetson life. But if you remember the cartoon, everything is done for the Jetsons. They pass their time describing the problems and pressing a lot of buttons. The problem solving is done by machines. Will creating a pop-up book transform Elroy and Judy into problem solvers? better writers? deeper thinkers? I don't see how, just yet. If you can see, let me know.

I am a full-on believer that fun is important, just ask my students--I come from the Mary Poppins school of education. But as a responsible educator, I have a sacred trust to maximize our learning in our minimal time. I need to see how technology ENHANCES or DEEPENS real learning. If it is just aesthetic or entertaining, it is an expensive, time-consuming bunny trail I want to avoid, no matter how cute the bunnies may be.

Haiku Education

Love and hate, burritos, and Andrew Jackson

One of My Educational Heroes....

Geeks and Greeks

Three Strikes and Donuts

Haiku: To the Newcomer

All's Smell that Ends Smell

Fat Albert, The Lion King, and Disrespected Deer

Santa, Linus, Compassion, and Education

Three Reasons I Love Teaching Eighth Graders: a Haiku

Gratitude and Remembrance

siiiiick

SALON 2011--and lumpia

The writer, not the candy bar--and Alanis Morissette

Senator Kehoe

It might be happening!!

Haiku Vocabulary

"On Top..."

Monday's 9/11 Remembrance

Mullets and Music: Teachers as Illuminators

sometimes it's the little things

Sweaty Eddie and Sweaty Betty

Anticipation

The Rodney Dangerfield of Academia

just kill me now--oh wait...

CHANGING...

New Venture, New Ideas

Last Words

FOUND!! Never stolen!! YAYYYY!

Charrrrge!

sunny side

from me this year--and never before:

3 F's in May: the Titanic, baseball, and Batman

WHAT IF there's a disaster drill?

Connecting with the Math Averse/Math Phobic/Math Haters

How to Manipulate Your Parent

If you've taught for any length of time...

:The Daily Miracle": READING

middle schooler praise

More on READING

Unhappy People Watch TV, Happy People Read/Socialize

Teaching the Bill of Rights? Easy and Fun!

Lemme 'Splain

Stolen soda/Stolen trust

It's over! At least, it's ending...

Awkward Moments in Teaching, II

First Dinner, Then Dessert

It's waaay too much work...

Thirsty

the best people I know work in schools

10 Reasons Why I Can't Wait To Get Back To Work Tomorrow by J.

10 Reasons Why I Can't Wait To Get Back To Work Tomorrow by Lola

a heart full of gratitude and warmth

Sobs and Shock

The Angry Colonist

Miracle or Money?

1994 and 2010

today's parent conference

a 6th grader's request

The Children of Lake Wobegon vs the Bell Curve

success!

I have that "threw a party, people came and had a great time, now comes the clean up, where's my bed" happy/tired feeling.

Tomorrow's Salon/Definitions #2 and #3

Join the Jedi

RIP Bruce Davis, Jr.

Michelle Rhee isn't Superman

Waitin' for George Clooney

bungalow math

dread

GLORY in a middle school hallway

55°N, 37°E

...by Taylor Mali

Houston, we have reentry

Teaching

Tennis Racquets, Flutes, and Symphonies

I wonder...

a "value-added" issue--uh oh...

Market-driven?

SEISMIC...

from "Tuesdays with Morrie"