How to Exponentially Increase Attention, Learning, Energy, and Morale of both Students and Teacher

AIR CONDITIONING:
Among God's many blessings
You are the coolest.

This is Friedrich, everybody.

Haiku for a Beginning Teacher

At each day's ending, 

write down these TWO THINGS: what worked

and what made you smile. 

Haiku for a Disappointed Parent

Every day is a new day. Every day is a new chance to be better.

A D? (Hmm, your child
Didn't use the study guide
or look at his notes...

...He didn't ask questions
Or write out practice answers
the way others did....

.....I sent you notice
of what would be tested, and
essay questions, too....)

You "know he can do
better--he wants a retake--
Can he please have one?"

Oh, dear parent friend
This is not a driver's test
A D won't kill him

Do you know what? I
know he can do better, too.
ON THE NEXT TEST. Watch.

I do believe in
second chances; just
not on the same test.

A Haiku Series Advocating Student Diplomacy in the Face of Missing Class

Based on a true evening email exchange between myself and a student:

STUDENT:
I have been absent--
Did I miss anything that was
important today?

TEACHER:
Can you find a way
to ask without implying
my class wastes your time?

I am off to bed.
In response to your question,
the answer is "yes."
 ---------------

Of course, sometimes I tell these offenders that Beyonce performed for our class. Or that we all took naps. And when the kid gives me the "C'mon, tell me what really happened" face I tell them the truth: I taught my guts out and they can get notes from another kid and hope another person can explain to them what they've missed. 

Sometimes students expect a private tutoring session. Am I a bad teacher for refusing to do that? For refusing to try to encapsulate what took me 55 minutes of extraordinary effort to teach? To recreate for an audience of one what I orchestrated the day before for an audience of 159 in five classes? 

I obviously don't think so. It wasn't the student's fault she was sick, but those sorts of losses are not the kind we can just restore with five minutes and a pat on the head. The losses are real. The book can tell the kids the basics.  The book cannot recreate our conversation, our inquiries, our interactions. The book does not crack dumb jokes or pose useful analogies to help kids make connections the way I do. The book cannot explain what it means the way I do in a class. Insofar as explaining after school something that a student didn't understand in class, that's fine with me, and I am eager to do so--unless the said kid was busy not paying attention. 


Here's another teacher who was moved to write a poem:

Did I Miss Anything?

Tom Wayman

Nothing. When we realized you weren’t here
we sat with our hands folded on our desks
in silence, for the full two hours
     Everything. I gave an exam worth
     40 percent of the grade for this term
     and assigned some reading due today
     on which I’m about to hand out a quiz
     worth 50 percent
Nothing. None of the content of this course
has value or meaning
Take as many days off as you like:
any activities we undertake as a class
I assure you will not matter either to you or me
and are without purpose
     Everything. A few minutes after we began last time
     a shaft of light suddenly descended and an angel
     or other heavenly being appeared
     and revealed to us what each woman or man must do
     to attain divine wisdom in this life and
     the hereafter
     This is the last time the class will meet
     before we disperse to bring the good news to all people
          on earth.
Nothing. When you are not present
how could something significant occur?
     Everything. Contained in this classroom
     is a microcosm of human experience
     assembled for you to query and examine and ponder
     This is not the only place such an opportunity has been
          gathered
     but it was one place
     And you weren’t here

From Did I Miss Anything? Selected Poems 1973-1993, 1993
Harbour Publishing

Copyright 1993 Tom Wayman.
All rights reserved.

Perplexed, Bewildered, Bemused, Mystified, Stumped, Flummoxed, Puzzled

Can't figure it out.

We post students' grades online

Most parents don't check.

(It's true--on our grading program there's a little scroll-down window that shows us how many times a parent or a kiddo has checked grades. A parent can even sign up for free notifications. If I had a kid I'd be so glad to know what was up, because, according to most of the parents I conference with, teens are, ahem, less than communicative with them, something that hasn't changed since I was a tyke. If I were a kid, I'd be checking all the time.)

Fats Waller Was Right: "One Never Knows, Do One?"

One girl's smile as I
opened the huge, heavy box,

Overpowering scents...and love

filled with teenaged joy:

Shimmer body mists,
candy, two lotion bottles
And.....a stuffed turtle!!!

This bounty she gave
despite her low grade, despite
her classroom silence

And so the truth, proved
once more, that teachers can't know,
can't guess, whom they touch

G. handed me the giant box, heavy, shifting, right before lunch (all kinds of sweet things have happened this year with period four, right before lunch). I hugged her and told her I'd open it on Christmas morning. "No, open it right now," she urged, eyes shining.

Uh oh, I'd better put on my "appreciative teacher face" because sometimes kids give the darndest things, even things I can't identify, and I have to step diplomatically and enthusiastically through emotional land-mines.

But this time, I was blown away. Every one of the items was something G. would love to keep for herself, but she gave to me out of love. I know her family doesn't have a ton of money, but whatever they gave her for shopping, she had poured so much on to me that I got a little dizzy and my eyes leaked. I looked up at her and her face was beaming, gratified that she had overwhelmed me. Big hugs, and off she went.

And so I know now that G., despite the tug of war grade between a D and an F, despite her stream of Fs on tests, despite me routinely asking her to re-do assignments because they don't make sense, despite her lack of voluntary participation in class--loves period four as much as I do. 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

No no no no no no no

He died defending his children and therefore his country 12/21/13

Michael Landsberry
Marine, Teacher, Dad, Hero
Inspirational

(I can't let myself
feel this. It takes such a toll.)
He took a bullet...

Were all his papers
graded? His grades up-to-date?
How about his soul?

 (I keep wondering
what I would do, but all I
can do is wonder.)

Homework done!

I've rediscovered
the joy of days I choose to fill
(NOT paperwork--NO!)

Chick Fil A gave free
breakfast to us, dressed as cows,
my awesome cousins

And then alfresco
lunch at the winery with
mom and dear friend

Theater tonight!
Playing on my retirement
island. (C'mon, Lotto!)

And I just finished
one of the best books I've read
in years of Sundays

The Student Teacher's German Lesson on the Last Day of School: a follow-up haiku to last post

Eins, zwei, drei, vier, funf
German lesson had some oomph!
sechs, sieben, acht, neun--

My student teacher
did just fine. Acht, sieben, sechs,
funf--he survived it

and there's proof: vier, drei,
look down! There's no blood upon
the ground! Eins and now

he's done! Learning German was
sorta fun. Now I simply
have to run. I'M DONE!!!!!!!!!


(yes, there was candy)

Sandy Hook: Our Children

Collective anguish
All of us somehow bereaved
Sorrow comes in waves

 (The grown ups, too, are
Someone's children.) Oh parents--
 How we ache for you

My students have vowed
In memoriam: to be
Kinder and gentler

Haiku about Hollywood & History

Lewis, Spielberg, and
John Williams--AHHH! "Lincoln"
has to be awesome!!!

(Releasing it now
seems strange...why not in April?
....January 1?

Or Veterans' Day?)
"The Alamo" was so lame,
my heart almost broke,

And so my fervent
prayer: Please, Lord, let this film,
"Lincoln," be worthy

AMEN.

K. Saves the Day! or, Kids Are the Best

Imaginary
flames of the real past threaten
paper powder keg--

Lincoln? Douglas? Clay?
Who can stop the explosion?
"I've got this," said K.,

as he threw his real
coat upon the pretend flames--
and we laughed real laughs

I add flames to the powder line as we learn about each event--kind of a visual domino effect--but K. takes action, which is more than can be said about James Buchanan, our lame 15th president.

Huh? Whah?

Julian Treasure, an advertiser whose expertise is sound, fears we are losing our listening skills and wants us to teach listening in schools. In his TED talk, he gives a few tips after he explains the dynamics of listening. He begins by noting that our ability to record (writing and sound waves) has drastically reduced the premium on listening.

Julian Treasure gives some sound advice

Inattention isn't just a problem in the classroom; for those of us who make a living through communication, it's the quintessential obstacle we must overcome. And today we have more competition for attention than ever before. Ever deliver a lesson to someone whose head was bobbing and fingers were drumming, and realize he is listening to a song in his head, and you'd have to repeat everything? Ever try to get someone's attention only to notice that she was wearing earplugs, forcing you to flap your hands about, and then feel as if you are an intrusion?

These past five years as a teacher, I've noticed a shift in the level of imagination that kids bring to the table. They are as exuberant as ever, as intelligent as ever, but when you turn the thinking over to them, many seem truly lost. Are we also losing the ability to listen to ourselves? Isn't that what thinking is?

I have a friend who said she couldn't fall asleep unless the radio was on. Her eight hours were infiltrated by all kinds of lyrics and commercials that seeped into her brain at some level.

I have a friend whose television is always on, loud enough to compete with our conversation, though no one is watching it.

My uncle leaves NPR on in the car, even though he has lively conversations with his passengers.

Mr. Treasure suggests three minutes of daily silence and notes incidentally that nearly every spiritual tradition has contemplation as a component of its practices. Three minutes off the grid with only our thoughts to occupy our minds--could you do it? Could our kids? Would that be "a waste of time" or part of a true education?

Madness, I say--madness!

The school calendar:
Finals are on Thursday, but
school's out next Tuesday











Don't you think this is
expensive babysitting?
Or insanity?

Testing...testing...1, 2, 3, 4 days of testing!

The state's high stake test
comes more than a month before
school actually ends

The test tests learning
of content that they haven't 
had a chance to learn

A Bad Morning, A Kiss and Two Poems

It doesn't happen often, really only about once a year, and who knows why. Perhaps it's a convergence of gravitation, weather, hormones, CST testing dread, a strange dream, and the usual sad Padre win-loss record, but comes an odd day when I simply do. not. want. to. go in that classroom and face anyone. That day was yesterday.

Before school, I shared my dread with my close colleagues. "I don't wanna be that whiny teacher," I whined. A. listened with love and her eyes didn't judge me. K. commiserated and made me laugh, even when I shared that part of my low is my persistent belief that education can transform EVERYONE into Lola's ideal of a Fine Human Being with Noble Character Who Loves Reading when the disappointing truth is that the Bell Curve of Life indicates that a large portion of the population will forever gravitate toward daytime reality TV and hangovers. And this crushes me.

Of course I got on with it. The Compromise of 1850 wasn't going to teach itself. As usual, teaching itself became its own reward as I turned away from me to them and the task at hand.

Then it was time for my seminar English class--and two boys, D. and I., had spent their own money to buy Hershey bars for everyone in class! Their final flourish was to hand me a gigantical Hershey's kiss. Of course my heart grew three sizes.

And then it was time for Haiku Friends!! That's right--we are studying poetry, and for fun, students were assigned a fellow student to write about. I collected their little poems, read them aloud, and the students guessed the subjects. It was delightful and yet another time of bonding with this really wonderful class, but as I read the last one, C. rushed up to me waving one last haiku:

"Hamilton's girlfriend

In third grade, Calhoun punched her

Educates many"

I'm a big Alexander Hamilton fan--I'd told them of the day when Doug hit me--C had written a poem about me! For laughs? So I wouldn't feel left out? Because he was enjoying our time together? All good.

And then after school, I found my colleague K. had put a poem in my mailbox:

Maybe Dats Your Pwoblem Too by James Hall

All my pwoblems
who knows, maybe evwybody's pwoblems
is due to da fact, due to da awful twuth
dat I am SPIDERMAN.
I know. I know. All da dumb jokes:
No flies on you, ha ha,
and da ones about what do I do wit all
doze extwa legs in bed. Well, dat's funny yeah.
But you twy being
SPIDERMAN for a month or two. Go ahead.

You get doze cwazy calls fwom da
Gubbener askin you to twap some booglar who's
only twying to wip off color T.V. sets.
Now, what do I cawre about T.V. sets?
But I pull on da suit, da stinkin suit,
wit da sucker cups on da fingers,
and get my wopes and wittle bundle of
equipment and den I go flying like cwazy
acwoss da town fwom woof top to woof top.

Till der he is. Some poor dumb color T.V. slob
and I fall on him and we westle a widdle
until I get him all woped. So big deal.

You tink when you SPIDERMAN
der's sometin big going to happen to you.
Well, I tell you what. It don't happen dat way.
Nuttin happens. Gubbener calls, I go.
Bwing him to powice, Gubbener calls again,
like dat over and over.

I tink I twy sometin diffunt. I tink I twy
sometin excitin like wacing cawrs. Sometin to make
my heart beat at a difwent wate.
But den you just can't quit being sometin like
SPIDERMAN.
You SPIDERMAN for life. Fowever. I can't even
buin my suit. It won't buin. It's fwame wesistent.
So maybe dat's youwr pwoblem too, who knows.
Maybe dat's da whole pwoblem wif evwytin.
Nobody can buin der suits, dey all fwame wesistent.
Who knows?

.... I realized that K. understood, that James Hall understood: My suit won't come off and sometimes that's my pwoblem. I am SPIDERMAN FOR LIFE, and sometimes trying to save the world--or even just one thirteen year old--gets a little discouraging or even tiresome. But I am here to testify that the generous big hearts of boys and the power of compassion and poetry are transformative. The odd day is over, and I know that I am doing what I am supposed to be doing, and that changes everything.

Who will be our next PEZident?

Flying my geek flag:

I bought presidential PEZ

(everyone's jealous)

COMPLETE TRIUMPH of the WEATHER over RESPONSIBILITY.

Bucket of essays,

You lose: it's 80°--

You'll just have to wait!!!

The Exception

We are each unique

(Except for this drummer boy

and my student, M).

Haiku: To the Newcomer

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.