The Top Ten Cool and Groovy after Two Entire Weeks

The cool and the groovy about 2016/2017 thus far--best launch yet!!!!

1. I still have A/C! Hurrah!

2. No energy-sapping children! When I compare this year to last, I realize how tough a few of them really truly were, how much of my "teacher juice" was used in reining in the man-sized nonstop talker who never did his work during advisory and period 6, or the Trio of Terror that formed period 7 (I got them down to the Deadly Duo after a parent conference with one, but the other two? It was mostly my will against theirs. My will won, most days. Most. All days? The bell would ring and I would think, "Just in time!")

Oh, is the bell ringing already???

3. My day ends with a delightfully sweet class! Last year I ended with my largest and chattiest and Most Likely To Be Seen in the Counseling Office (see above).

No more--I've got sweetie pies, now!

4. My seminar class isn't cliquey! And, they have already earned donuts. This year may be expensive for me...(I buy donuts after a class earns four stars. Stars are earned when 100% of the class turns in their assignment.)


5. All of our new hires are really strong, great teachers! I often spend my preps in my colleagues' rooms as I grade my papers there. I steal all sorts of great ideas as well as see what else my kiddos' day looks like. I can also do a lil cross-discipline application when I know what's up. Annnnd I get to see my students' behavior with other teachers. That alone can be revelatory. I like my new history parter, too. I used to be considered the structured, organized 8th grade history teacher. This guy makes me look like improvisational.  Hoping to learn from this kid--he's sharp.

Trying to be the best I can be by surrounding myself with greatness

6. The weather hasn't been super nasty! Last week was gross, but not as gross as some days of yore that I recall. Most days this week, I didn't use the A/C.

Perfect.

7. The blind guy came! Not the man with no sight, but the guy who measures our windows so we can get new blinds!! Yay! Mine are dingy and dirty. Some slats are bent, and one has a hole in it. Now that presents a puzzler: how did that hole arise??? I  have been at my site so long that I remember when the current blinds were installed (yes, I've been teaching since 1932)...I never saw a kid stab a hole, and I'm an attentive teacher. I will never know.

Hopefully installation will go smoothly

8. My printer got fixed!! Joy!

I hit print as soon as the repair lady left the room

9. One class only has 24 kids in it! It's my ideal number. The others are still sizable (34 in the other 4), but how fun to have one little one. And the books I recommended to them? They are all reading and enjoying them!! The Elephant Man, Bull Run, The Outsiders, To Kill a Mockingbird, Of Mice and Men... they are all hushed and focused during our advisory reading time. In fact, one girl tore out her John Green novel with a gleeful, "Yay! We get to read!" I'm in heaven.

Yummy

10. Now you KNOW I love my A/C, but it really is obnoxiously loud. When it's on, half the class can't hear the other half, and I can't hear them. The decibels are ridiculous. But the custodian called in a work order....it's going to be fixed!!!!

This school year is just off to a magical start.

Cookies, Money, Compassion, and Cookies

On the first day of school, I found out Batman was in my class.

On the third day of school, a student brought chocolate chip cookies for the whole class.

On the THIRD DAY, people!

cookies not homemade. me no care.

During the second week of school after I shared with the kids that I had a foreign money collection, four separate kids brought me currency from Fiji, Mexico, Vietnam, and the E.U.

During the third week of school, I couldn't find my reward candy. I shared my sadness with the class that the only time I'd had stuff stolen from me was once years ago, in the notorious Year of the Stolen Sodas, and that I was sad my candy was gone.  The next day, two separate kids brought me candy to replace what was lost.  

I've brought in donuts to the Seminerds already for having 100% homework turned in three times (the bar is upped to four, now). 

This fourth week I found the candy--I am losing my brain cells in this stupefying heat, or maybe old age--and I got to rejoice with them ALL for being upright and trustworthy!

AND this fourth week the same kid again brought in cookies for the class.

Yeah, ridiculously hot and humid weather aside (and no a/c in sight), we're off to a great start.

"Are You Really Reading This, Thomas Jefferson?"

As a kid, I had the feeling most teachers didn't really read what I wrote. They passed out hundreds of "worksheets" and who could stay on top of all that paper?

In high school, the English teachers (or was it the school?) employed what they called "readers," college students who would read the papers, correct them, and even assign suggested grades. I knew my teacher at least read mine, anyway, because she'd often write a different grade on top, once with the little note, "I don't know why this reader consistently underrates your work." Smiley face for me.

I had a half-hearted (perhaps broken-hearted, but that's another story) Spanish teacher who assigned work for us to do each day, but collected the whole lot on one day. Now I most assuredly did NOT do one bit of that homework until the night before it was due when I frantically ripped some paper out of my spiral notebook and began typing out those jillion ejercicios. But after doing a few, it occurred to me that this lazy man was not going to read all of pages. I began skipping numbers:

1.
2.
3.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
11.
12.

And sometimes an ejercicio called for me to do 1-12, but I only hammered out 1-10. I probably shaved off about 15% of the actual assignments on the calculated gamble that this fellow wasn't going to check my work.

I began typing nonsense sentences, sprinkling them throughout the ejercicios: 
 9. El viejo quiero una banana para su perro ("The old man wants a banana for his dog")....  
13. "Hay una banana en mi cuarto, a veces en el piso" (There is a banana in my room, sometimes on the floor).

(I wrote many sentences about bananas. I don't know why; it was a fun word to type, perhaps.)

And then this very bold sentence I'd put in more than once: ¿Ud. esta leyendo esta tarea? No creo que Ud. esta leyendo esta tarea ("Are you reading this homework? I don't think you are reading this homework").

And when I got my ejercicios back, there was the large red A- with an arrow pointing to the raggedy spiral notebook margin I hadn't bothered to cut. Clearly he'd counted the number of ejercicios and was fooled by the dignity the typewriter lent them. Clearly the raggedy notebook margin was the reason for the minus part of the grade.

Clearly this has impacted me as an educator.

I am compelled to actually read what the kids write, to comment on their thoughts, to circle errors and question their answers. Over the years, I find expressions of my same doubts: "Are you really reading this?" And I respond: "Of course not." Sometimes a student writes asides or doodles little cartoons, and I add to the art and write my own asides. "Miss M was here, paying attention to your work," my additions report.

This commitment makes me testy when kids turn in half-hearted work. But is my annoyance directed at the right target? Have other teachers taught them that their work is merely checked for completion, not content? Didn't I have a history of dodging work when I could? Kids soon learn that I truly read their papers, so it isn't until December that I get really truly annoyed when someone turns in hasty, shallow, poor work that promptly receives a pathetic score.

Anyway, with super smart kids, their "Are you really reading this?" queries can be a bit more subtle:

D. sends out a test. Miss M. passes again!

And the answer is, was, and ever shall be: "YES. I am dignifying your thoughts and analyses with thoughts and analyses of my own. This is a dialogue. I care about the time you spent doing work I asked you to do because I believe it will help you better grasp this skill, content, or idea. I grade your work because I sometimes never received essays back from teachers and I suspected my time and efforts went into a trashcan, leaving only a checkmark in a gradebook, and I promised I'd never disdain a student's work that way. Even as I begrudge the time it takes me, I grade your work because I want to dignify your work with my time. I grade your work because I care about you."

That's the truth.

Pigasus, Pasta, Pennies, and Student Strategy

We hate cancer.  We love competition.

So we love The Olive Garden's Pasta for Pennies competition at our school. The period 1 classroom that brings in the most money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society wins an Olive Garden lunch.

Money goes to research to get rid of this horrible disease

While I have huge reservations about "giving to get" charitable drives, there is no denying that the competition makes it far more about winning than eating. Hm, is that much better? OK, then, there is no denying that the drive to win makes for some wonderful team building.

Our class leaps ahead of Mrs G's class by $40 on the first day. I mention that if each kid in class brings in $10, we'd have $360 (stupid California class sizes); I remind them that I pitch in, too. The kids whine that Mrs W's class always wins. I point to the two first place pennants from The Olive Garden hanging by the door. "By 'always wins' do you mean 'always comes in second to Miss M's class?' " The kids perk up.

That afternoon, our collection box returns from the money counters in ASB decorated as a pig, er, Pegasus, er, Pigasus with a unicorn horn:

AB, NT, and RT show off their amazing creation

So the race is on. Mrs G, a new teacher, gains the lead. My students decide the way to win is to withhold some of the money we bring in; they decide to put only one third of the donations into Pigasus and the rest into this special jar my daddy had bought for me:

I don't keep this on display. But it came in handy for this activity.

We watch as Mrs W takes the lead; the class groans--they had her in 6th grade and know she has very persuasive techniques to make sure kids bring in money! Some kids in another class contribute to Pigasus. We learn that Mrs G's class has a hidden stash too, and our "spies" press in to discover the estimated amount. Some other classes find out about our hidden stash, but do not seem to know how much we have. At some point, the ASB box decorators make Pigasus's nose 3D. (I have no photographic proof....but trust me, it's a thing of beauty.)

The jar is too small to hold all of our rolled coin, loose change, and bills, so we hide the rolled coin and bills in a project on display, a project shaped like a bald eagle; it feels patriotic somehow. The students vote to stop putting more than five or so dollars daily into Pigasus and hoard almost all of it for Friday, turn in day.

Friday, yesterday--Pigasus is almost full. His top won't close properly. His legs buckle. He is taken to the ASB to have his innards counted.

After lunch, five ASB kids--all my first period students--come in. "We have good news and bad news!" N says sadly (but with dancing eyes and a persistent grin), "The pig's legs didn't make it....but the pig did! We won by $200!" It's actually kind of a pain for me, because I have to race out to La Mesa during my prep period and then deal with my fourth period kids drooling over bread sticks they can't have, but Mrs W has offered to help me serve, and frankly, my period 1 kids are so delightful that I absolutely look forward to lunch with them all.

The formal announcement is made over the intercom, period 7, right before the end of school. My period 7 graciously cheers and whoops as if it were they who had won. That's what I love about our school--we are good sports, and in the end, the more we raise, the more research we fund. That's a win-win in my book.

Elie Weisel and the Little Rock Nine: Unbelievable but True

The first time I ever taught Night by Elie Wiesel, as I scrambled for resources to do this memoir justice, I stumbled upon wonderful materials that were written by one Dr Chris Frost. Mr. Google told me he was a professor at a nearby university. I sent him an email asking if he'd mind if some precocious 8th graders used his materials as we studied the book. He said we could--and offered to come lecture the students--for free.

I was floored by the generous gift of his time (and that he was unafraid of 8th graders, as many adults seem to be). As it turned out, he was one of just 18 students to sit under Wiesel at NYU the first time Weisel taught his own book. Can you even believe it???

His presentation gave our students rare insight into Night and afforded us an opportunity to ask loads of questions. At the end, we presented him with three carnations--a white one for Elie and those who endured the Holocaust, a red one for those who, like Dr. Frost, were teaching truth, and a pink one to represent the students and their promise--he was visibly moved. He said, "I'll have to tell Elie about this today." Can you even believe it???

When asked what courses he was teaching next, he said he was teaching a summer course comparing C. S. Lewis and Sigmund Freud....in Oxford, England. It so happened that I was going to Oxford to spend a week at the C. S. Lewis conference. "We'll have to meet up," he said. "I'd love to crash a class," I said. Can you even believe it???

It turned out the last full day the students and he would be in Oxford was my first day at the event so I couldn't sit in on his lecture. But then I got my agenda for the conference and that first evening Lamb's Players Theater was presenting "Freud's Last Session," a play about....ohmigosh, an imagined meeting of Freud and Lewis. He was able to get permission to see it with his students. Can you even believe it???

So this year is the first year I am teaching Warriors Don't Cry by Melba Patillo Beals, one of the Little Rock Nine who integrated Central High School in 1957. A parent of one of my kiddos forwarded a flyer informing us that Carlotta Walls LaNier, the youngest of the Nine, was to speak that very week at a local community college. And after a riveting evening of insights and stories and questions answered, I was in line to buy her book when one of my students came over to present me with a copy as a gift!! Can you even believe it???

Mrs. LaNier signed our books and agreed to a photo with us. I don't ordinarily rub shoulders with historical figures...and I want to have proof that it really happened. Because I can hardly believe it.

Here is a picture with two world changers--one of the Little Rock Nine who courageously stood up for justice and my student MRC., an incredible girl who is so gifted I can't believe I get to teach her and I can't wait to see how she impacts our future.

No Lumpia for Me

MONDAY: I pass out the announcement for our next salon, our culminating event after analyzing Lord of the Flies, and I can't believe my ears: actual groans and grumbles.

Really? You guys don't want a luau? (do not let them see you wilt. do not take this personally. do not think about all the lumpia you won't be eating do not do not do not)

Not really, they say.

Does this mean you didn't like the first one?

NO!! they explode sincerely. We loved it!  But this one seems like too much work, and we have so much going on in our other classes.

OK, no salon, but you will each need to do your own music assignment independently.

Again there are some groans, but I don't care--I want to try this activity: each student has to choose a song that she thinks fits the text and then document it to death. I show them my example with citations from our text:
                                       
The Who: Baba O'Riley written by Pete Townshend

Out here in the fields                     (The whole text is on an island—“out here”)
I fight for my meals                       (Jack hunts for meat: 68)
I get my back into my living         (Ralph and Simon build huts: 50)
I don't need to fight                       (Piggy is always right, but can’t
To prove I'm right                                   fight back when antagonized or questioned: 71)
I don't need to be forgiven            (Jack apologizes once—never about Simon or Piggy: 72)
Don't cry                                       (Ralph cries for the death of Piggy only in the end: 202)
Don't raise your eye                     (Roger is furtive, doesn’t make eye contact: 22)
It's only teenage wasteland          (No adults on the island except a dead one: 95, 96)

THURSDAY: We share the songs--"Demons" by Imagine Dragons was selected by four students, two have written about "The Eye of the Tiger," and the class clown has chosen "Don't Stop Believin'." I ask them if this was easy or difficult, and it turns out it was challenging on a surprising number of levels. I will definitely try this again next year. Kids learn documentation, learn how to support their thinking, and as S. put it, "To put on paper our ideas and connections in a way that would make sense to the reader."

Of course they want to me play the songs. I tell them that was supposed to be part of the salon they didn't want.  And then I play some of them anyway. I am their hero for this melodious minute.

That moment when the high school usurps your curriculum...AGAIN

Last post was about my thrilledness (Humpty Dumpty and Shakespeare give us all permission to invent words) over my highly gifted kids getting into Lord of the Flies. I was exuberant.

(I never blogged about why this unit was a big deal. See, I'd been teaching Animal Farm and To Kill a Mockingbird to my 8th graders for four years when the high school VP emailed my principal and told him those books were now (thanks, Common Core) going to be taught in 9th grade. It was more than lame--for one, I was getting ready to launch AF in a week or so, and two, TKAM is just my favorite. For three, teaching TKAM was so awesome after teaching Elie Wiesel's Night--to teach about a man of courage just brought me joy and was a wonderful counterpoint to Night's darkness. OK, I reconciled myself to writing units for two new texts this year. I asked the VP what the upper grades were teaching and only heard from one 9th grade teacher.

Fine. I spent days creating a unit for Lord of the Flies, and boy did I get excited. Talked to a teacher friend in Texas. Stole a few ideas from a teacher in Pennsylvania. Got some ideas straight from the Creator. Man, this was gonna be waaaay better than AF, waaaaay deeper. You can see read about my excitement here and here.)

Things just kept getting better, especially when I assigned chapter 8 for reading and the kids came in all shaking their heads about the answer to the question, "Who IS 'Lord of the Flies?'" Whoo!!!

After school that day I had a couple of formers come by to visit, sophomores in Honors English at the local high school. "Guess what we're reading, Miss M?" Oh dear Lord, please, no....

I dashed off an email to my principal and the high school VP, forwarding an old email where I'd asked for what the upper grades taught. I told them I'd heard no reply. I told them SOME of what my unit contained--Hobbes, Rousseau, leadership theory, Christ figure symbology, Freud--and got the response: "My best advice is to check with the department head before you select novels."

Are. You. Serious....

If my kids could do this in 8th grade, shouldn't the 10th grade teacher tackle something tougher? Give them Plato. Or just TELL ME WHAT THE UPPER GRADES ARE DOING, AS I'D ASKED. Or ask US what WE'VE done at the lower grades!

Anyway, my principal wrote a response supporting me: "Please understand that we need to keep Lord of the Flies here at DP." I haven't heard anything back from the high school or from him. I am hoping no new news is good news, but it's been a loonnnnng time since I have been that deflated. Gonna press on this year with my plans--comparing Peter Brueghel's paintings to the novels, finding music that goes with each character (compiling the definitive LOTF soundtrack with rationales), writing fine literary analysis papers, and celebrating all of it with a luau complete with PORK (bahaha) and the "islands" creating displays of the symbols and characters chosen from the text: fire, specs, the conch, the beast, pigs, Ralph, Simon, Jack, Piggy......and when they get to high school and the high school forces them to do the same things I had them do already, it will be upon THEM to write a new unit. These kids are ready for more.

And I think I am done giving up the books that work so well with my history course. 

That Moment When the Class Finally.....

I was beginning to think it would never happen, that inner click you feel as an educator when your class corporately buys into the book you are reading. But it happened today, and what a relief.

DAY ONE: Name choosing and nametag making was fine, fun, childish, unacademic, and silly--but good team-building. 

DAY TWO: It did NOT go well. We began with a Golding bio--fine as it went, and then started the book from the Pulitzer Prize winner. But the yards of description Golding pours into the island bogged us down (my exact 10th grade reaction: "Who CARES about all this stuff?? Tell the story, already!").  Boring. Yawn. I brought out the conch--mild interest--passed it around--mild interest. Sigh. I assigned the rest of chapter one for homework. I felt defeated.

DAY THREE: I passed out leadership style readings. This was a bit more interesting. In their islands they had to connect the styles to the boys and write down where in the text their support was. I asked, "Was this activity ok?" B., who LOVES to learn, said sincerely, "This was fun!" But MR. gave me that apologetic head tilted smile that said just as loudly, "Not really." I still felt better because the groups were talking. We launched the next chapter and made lists of the boys, their traits, the symbols, and our designations of meanings. The list-making was full-class but half-hearted. I trusted that list, though. I was thrilled when the kids posted Ralph as democratic and Jack as autocratic. Small victories when things aren't going your way can feel like huge ones.

DAY FOUR: I began chapter three with a handout about characteristics of Christ figures I teacher-stole from a wonderful teacher in Pennsylvania. More interest, especially when we looked at Obi-wan Kenobe, Gandalf, and Dumbledore in that light (they weren't familiar with Cool Hand Luke). "Is Simon going to die?" asked an astute person. "Perhaps, but necessarily--do you think Simon will be crucified or resurrected?" I returned. The normally jolly N. was uncharacteristically scornful: "Number 11 on this list is dumb! No one is a carpenter!" And so we began the chapter only to find the Simon is helping Ralph build a hut. "He IS a carpenter!" someone yelled triumphantly. Things were looking up. They finished chapter 3 over break. The Christ figure trope was a revelation for them, a novelty, cool and adult.

DAY FIVE: We pretty much straight read chapter 4 as a class, adding to our list about the boys. I talked about symbols, and the kids were a bit more into the drama. My VP walked into watch. Wish I had something better than reading aloud. Nope.

DAY SIX: But then today. Ah. Half the students read about Rousseau and the other half about Hobbes. Then we had a Chalk Talk--I had prepared the classroom with ten quotes, half from R, half from H, and the students responded to the quotes and to each others' responses using dry erase markers. It was like having ten silent conversations at once! I had warned them about writing stupid things like "I like turtles," but about three boys couldn't help themselves (Hobbes would say that--and I will use that tomorrow as an example in class). When we began to review chapter four, a shift happened. I don't know what, but the kids began to see the story as a story of human nature. I let them talk. "Would the kids treat Piggy differently if he looked different?" "I think Jack punching Piggy is a sign of civilization running down." (!!) "But what about the cover on this book? Why is that giant fly near Piggy? Is he Lord of the Flies?" And off the discussion ran: who WAS Lord of the Flies?

God bless this ambiguous cover

I finally shared what any bible-reading, church-going Protestant fifty years ago would know, that The Lord of the Flies is Beelzebub, Satan. (I did this by showing Wikipedia's entry and scrolling to the verses in the bible in Matthew 12.) The kids got excited about the reference to the house divided--"The island is dividing!" And then they wondered if the Beast, or maybe Jack, was the Lord of the Flies. Someone wondered if Piggy's name was connected to the pigs on the island. "The names are significant," is all I would say until a girl jokingly asked if Ralph was going to vomit since his name is slang for vomit. "His name means 'counselor,' I said. A thrill ran through the class, I felt it. I decided to share with them the secret of names that had captivated me decades earlier.  Above the lists of the boys, the students watched as the meanings of the names were written:
Ralph - counselor
Jack - supplanter, usurper
Simon - listener
Roger - spear
Piggy

"Piggy's name is significant because it means what it says." And the class blew up--"Piggy is going to die, not Simon!" "Simon is going to save Piggy because he is the Christ figure!" "Jack is evil and must be the Lord of the Flies!" They were all* so excited and absorbed, making connections and predictions--"Roger is Jack's tool to kill Piggy, just like Jack speared the real pig!" "Jack broke Piggy's glasses, does that mean the end of intelligence?" OK, cue the bell.

Tomorrow we will look for Hobbes and Rousseau in the text and have a quiz contest among the islands groups. But I believe that when I assign chapter five as homework the kids will enjoy it. FINALLY.

*"All" is a relative term. Do 36 students ALL do anything at the same time? In a class of 36, many of whom are introverts, it is sometimes difficult to be accurate about "all." I use it here in the teacher sense of "heavy majority with 36 sets of eyes looking alert."

Launching a Novel: A Team Approach

Today was Day One....but the books weren't here yet so I needed to stall.

I already had the kids in groups of four balanced for extrovert/introvertedness and work ethic (they are all bright, so I didn't have to worry about that). On the board were posted nine teams--or ISLANDS, as I am calling them:

Conch       Fire       Pigs      Spectacles     The Beast      Ralph      Piggy      Jack     Simon

First, we had a rock/paper/scissors war to see which team chose which name. And then, in reverse order, teams select from nine different colored team name tags. And then, teams had to choose an alliterative name and design the name tag. This took all period!

(I felt a little badly, because I know how some of the teams will bond with their character--Piggy's team will be upset, but will they be more upset than Jack's team? And Jack [his real name] is on Jack's team....but....)

....This was team bonding. They were exercising decision-making and tomorrow when we discuss leadership styles and launch the book, they will not only be analyzing the characters in the novel, but the characters on their "island."

So here they are:

Cool Conches
Fergalicious Fire
Petrifying Pigs
Sassy Squid Specs
Bewildering Beasts
Reck-it Ralph
Proper Piggys
Just Jack. (with the period)
Simon Says

These tags are on a board, and there will be a place for the best team for that assignment to move to called "Who's Got the Conch?" Plus, when I was in Puerto Rico I bought a gigantical conch and it will be magical when they see it after Ralph in the book finds it. And they will enjoy David Gunnar blasting it (especially since one Sassy Squid Spec is named Gunnar) :

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sKNkFMpDfXY

Don't be fooled by this dorky intro; we will be reading Thomas Hobbes, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Sigmund Freud, leadership theory, and more before we end, and we will each write a serious piece of literary analysis. The culminating salon will be a luau with ROAST PORK, of course, and each Island will decorate their table appropriate to their symbol/character, and will present at the luau how their character or item highlights Golding's theme, adds to the plot, and something else I haven't yet decided.

Having the students on Islands means they have built-in discussion partners, built-in, long-haul team work, and that some days I'll only have to collect nine assignments instead of 36. I am also pitting them against each other (overtures of Jack versus Ralph, right?) for each response and that should up the quality for this highly competitive group.  My dream class would be where we could decorate the room like the island in the book as we learned details about it...

Teaching My Favorite

Loving a book is one thing; teaching it to a class--in late May-- is another. My man Abe Lincoln said you can't please all of the people all of the time, but something in me needs everyone to like, nay, love this book. I first taught To Kill a Mockingbird to the first 9th grade English class I ever had, exactly three days after I'd read it for the first time--I loved it so much I HAD to share it with kids, right away. Trouble is, if a kid doesn't like this book, I am mortally wounded and darkly conclude the child has no soul. Fast forward a billion years and I love the book even more, so am even more crushed and devastated if anyone rejects my favorite.

Mr. B., the math teacher, told me the kids were buzzing about the book, really enjoying it, pursuing conversations about it outside my classroom. YESSSSS! Perhaps it is inevitable--one of my kiddos' middle name is (really and truly) "Atticus."

And imagine my elation when JB., upon entering my bungalow this morning and seeing the weekend's homework was to read three chapters, voiced, "YESSSSS!" with a huge smile on his face.

"JB., you're not mad you have some homework over the weekend?"

"No, Miss M--I LOVE THIS BOOK!"

And yes, he said it in all capital letters; my heart heard his correctly.

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.

They can't say I didn't try...

When kids finish my final, I have an optional, anonymous survey for them: I ask them to rate each technique on its effectiveness or inspirational quality, from 1  -  4, and leave a space for them to 'splain anything they want to:

1) passing around the grade sheet on Monday and then posting it

2) making you keep track of your grades in your agenda

3) if the teacher could somehow force you to use your agenda

4) assigning goal sheets asking you to set goals and write out your game plan

5) passing out tickets for random candy drawing--tickets for academic or citizenship excellence

6) rewarding good work with bonus points

7) knowing that late work is half credit

8) getting donuts when the whole class turns in hw three times

9) Stupid Teacher Plays where we act stuff out with the teacher narrating

10) our mnemonic songs

11) Stupid YOU plays where YOU invent the skits

12) having kids teach a section/topic

13) the Constitutional Powers project

14) getting a printout of your missing assignments

15) notifying parents when you are missing three assignments

16) the teacher writing a note in my agenda when I did something fabulous

17) knowing my class ranking

18) taking graphic notes (all those cartoons the teacher drew!)

19) keeping your notes in one separate, bound composition notebook

20) doing reports and projects

21) knowing that the homework will be directly helpful for doing well on the tests

22) review game: brain gambling [note: other teachers call it "Las Vegas"]

23) review game: jeopardy

24) review game: steal the bacon

25) knowing that if your grade is high enough, you can skip the final

26) earning a free hw pass for having six weeks of perfect hw turn ins

27) the study guides

28) when the teacher draws a star on the class chart with the highest class average that week

29) when what we study in history overlaps with what we are reading in English

30) getting tests signed by a parent

31) knowing your teacher believes you can do better than what you are doing

I end with this: "What else could your teacher do or try that would encourage kids to do their work, learn, or try harder?"

And then I read them. This year the big winners are #9, 1, 19, 31, and 10.  The relative losers (most were still helpful, but not comparatively) were #30, 11, 12, 3, and 4. I am sad about #4 and don't intend to stop it, but I need to figure out a way to revisit the plans and make them more immediate. The kids do write their goal percentage in their agendas so they see their goal every Monday, and #2 scored pretty high, but....sigh, there is just too much to do in 55 minutes--or there are just too many chilluns. 

It was interesting to see how many kids shot down being taught by their peers. I asked my seminerds about that, and they explained that you really learn your section, the one you are teaching or performing, but you get next to nothing from the other groups. 

Suggestions this year: 

• replace tests with more projects to "engrave the info in our minds"  (but some kids hated projects)

• use more puppets (apparently the one I have, Citizen Genet--a critic of the Proclamation of Neutrality--is a big hit and the kids asked about him all year.)

• get privacy boards to use during tests

• change seats more often

• more review games (not different ones, just do more games in general)

• during the Civil War game, give kids points for answering, not just points for their side

• use more graphic notes--they really help and they are motivating

and the "I wish" award goes to: 

• make the kids think in a positive mind frame

Good Personal Hygiene AND Charm???

My room was smelling like a thirteen year old boy without deodorant, because somewhere in it was a thirteen year old boy without deodorant.

I made a general announcement: "Some people in this room are not wearing deodorant and are stinking up my room. I do not want to smell you. Please do something about this tomorrow."

J.H. instantly assured me: "It's not me, Miss M--I smell like poetry, rainbows, and freedom."

True story: the very fine Old Spice guy used to be a middle school math teacher.
I am pretty sure he knows the importance of the product he is selling.

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.

Texting in 1774?

As I was teaching about Samuel Adams and the Committees of Correspondence, I compared the committees to realllly old school texting, noting that without copy machines or the internet or cell phones, the C. of C. was a relatively quick and clever way to keep the rebels "in the loop." After class, J. slips me a note:

(In case I haven't mentioned it in the past five seconds and it slipped your mind, teaching > pretty much anything.)

Steinbeck > almost everything in English so far this year

Today we finished Steinbeck's The Moon Is Down. They were quiet--N. had tears in her eyes, three kids sighed, and J. said, "We should clap." But no one did, because we were drinking it in.

One student made a point to tell me in the afternoon that he "really, really, really, really liked that book," and his eyes were shining.

We didn't do one bit of writing about it. All we did was enjoy it and, since we are studying persuasive writing, see if the novella was just propaganda, what Steinbeck's message was then, and if his ideas are still relevant. Good conversations and shining eyes.

Geeks and Greeks

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.

All's Smell that Ends Smell

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.