Month: February 2011

Social contracts.

Yesterday, I decided to break up with Facebook. I don’t even want to be “just FB friends.” I didn’t totally disable my account, but did venture there. The fine borgs at Facebook presented me with a survey of reasons why I was considering this move. The questions were a bit loaded and self-serving, in my opinion.

These should be considered as possible reasons why:

  • Because others misunderstand your posts
  • Because the political views of strangers and family members gives you panic attacks at the level of willful ignorance and inflexibility in thought
  • If you get one more request to work on the collective kibbutz of Farmville you will go insane
  • Your body language, smile, big brown eyes, laugh, and nuances are lost in the bandwidth, and have become irrelevant here.

I also found out this morning that “it is strongly suggested” that we educators do not include a certain group amongst our contacts. If anything, this “group” should be encouraged most of all to have proper Internet interactions modeled: courtesy, kindness, and knowing when NOT to post an opinion or every passing thought. Are we furthering distancing ourselves from helping each other? Is this the paradox of a ‘social’ network? I realize blaming Facebook is like blaming a grocery store for selling cookies and ice cream along with apples and grapes: they’re just providing a (commercialized) service. It’s not Facebook, but how others, and myself, use it. If I’ve abused the power of distancing myself between conflict, collaboration, or conceit via a social network then shame on me.

I will go back on Facebook soon to do two things:

1. Write each of the “friends” I must drop why I need to do this

2. Send myself an email list of those I need to know and cherish – some of these old friends are too important and wonderful to lose in the noise and steam

And then we’ll take a break.

WIHWT: the beginning of The Graveyard Book

There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife.

The knife had a handle of polished black bone, and a blade finer and sharper than any razor. If it sliced you, you might not even know you had been cut, not immediately.

The knife had done almost everything it was brought to that house to do, and both the blade and the handle were wet.

The Graveyard Book  by Neil Gaiman Copyright 2008

WIHWT: The Widow's Broom by Chris Van Allsburg

Witches’ brooms don’t last forever. They grow old, and even the best of them, one day, lose the power of flight.

Fortunately, this does not happen in an instant. A witch can feel the strength slowly leaving her broom. The sudden burst of energy that once carried her quickly into the sky become weak. Long and longer running starts are needed for takeoff. Speedy brooms that, in their youth, outraced hawks are passed by slow flying geese. When these things happen, a witch knows it’s time to put her old broom aside and have a new one made.

On very rare occasions, however, a broom can lose its power without warning, and fall, with its passenger, to the earth below…which is just what happened one cold autumn night many years ago.

–The Widow’s Broomby Chris Van Allsburg

Bonding.

Harry Harlow Behavioral psychology

For the first time, ever, I was out for three days with a knee issue. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, except there has been a lot of change going on, and the students feel it. And it was the three days before a long weekend break (traditionally, this has been mid-winter break, but was cut short to two days –dang those cuts!)

Here’s what happened:

I was working the graveyard shift on my zombie watch, when, from out of no where, attack! The ghoul got the better of me….(this time, you undead living, or living undead, or whatever oxymoron-ic beast you are! Not getting my brains today!) And because students don’t like it when their beloved teacher is in pain, (cue hot tears streaming down face at the beginning of my fabulous lesson on annotating text), and the doctor ordered me to rest, so be it. (Zombie bites respond well to hefty doses of antibiotics and heat, just in case you were wondering what the treatment regime is for a zombie bite. I know you were going to ask, so now you don’t have to. You’re welcome.)

The epiphanic question: What must my new vice principal and principal think of me? Do they think I’m some slacker who just takes off whenever she feels like it? We are all still getting to know each other, and because of the sheer amount of whirlwinds, dust devils, flare ups, zephyrs, and typhoon changes going on (testing, scheduling, testing, more testing, scheduling, scheduling, etc.), there hasn’t been a lot of “getting to know you time…getting to know all about you..”

I have had four principals in five years. I have had three vice principals. We have had a few discipline/security officers come and go. None of the comings/goings are for negative reasons, in fact, they have been for good, positive, progressive growth reasons: promotions, higher supervisory roles, etc.

And in this time of transition, in an attempt to establish my cred, I inadvertently ended up sounding like a broken record : We did that. We have that. We created that. Rinse. Repeat. It’s not that the new admin cares or doesn’t care, but they understandably have their vision of the future, too.

I guess I just wish this: we all know how critical it is for us to bond with our students. They need to know they are safe with us, free to be themselves, make mistakes, and be human. It takes time and a bit of heart-worn-on-sleeve for good measure (I said heart, zombie, not brains!).

A colleague bravely said in a department meeting that she was already on survivor mode, and it’s only February. We pay attention to her: she is the consumate professional, with unflagging spirit.  If we’re hanging on to cloth and wire monkey moms, that can’t be good for any of us. I feel the deep desire to take a cleansing, healing breath for us all. And hear some real heartbeats.

What the doctor ordered: Play

I have had this hunch for some time: middle school should be run like summer camp, and now I have a very smart scientist who might back me up. Watch this TED talk about important work of  ‘play.” So while we’re testing, testing, testing our young charges, are we really putting on cat “smelling” collars on rats? Are we allowing this to happen to us adults? What are we doing in the name of “rigor” versus in the name of transformative, creative, growth of intelligence?

The day, (work, school, family, friends, creative time, etc.) is so much more enjoyable, and so much more learning happens, when we mentally play. Students take this activity by hostage: they doodle, they pass notes (yes, still) or use the technology given them to do anything but what’s in front of them. I’m not suggesting we serve brain candy instead of mental broccoli, I am suggesting that we have more hands-on, more projects, more time to enjoy the moment. “Life becomes infused….with…transformational kinds of play” — Stuart Brown

At the end of this presentation, I mentally checked out because the questioner/questions kind of missed the point. If you’ve been a human, and have ever felt that something was missing, lacking, or dull – you know exactly what Stuart Brown is saying: play, and all its manifestations, is who we are. Toy with that idea for awhile.

Fatal law.

We are the hero of our own story.
Mary McCarthy

Sometimes I seriously wonder what I am thinking. In our Journey of the Hero unit, I ask students to do a free write on their own ‘fatal flaws.’ Really? What fatal flaws could a 13 to 14 year old have? But boy, do I get a range. Everything from taking that epic skateboarding ramp a bit off, to the time when they betrayed a friend. The range is parallel to choices and life experiences they’ve had: in other words, happy kids=innocent mistakes; add a little more grit to their worlds=more emotion.

I’m not trying to dig out their hearts, I promise. They don’t have to share a thing, and may choose not to write. In terms of the writers’ workshop, this was not the prompt to launch the protocols, that’s for sure.

But keeping my sense of humor, I got an email from a student asking a clarifying question:

“What is the Fatal Laws assignment?”

Sounds about right.

Messy.

Bulldozer

My projector hasn’t worked well since I inherited this classroom. The irony of being ‘cutting edge’ with technology is that by the time the rest of a district gets the installation of the latest and greatest, the first-served’s technology is dated and tired. I’m not complaining, though; it’s just an observation. I have put in no less than five requests with our IT department. Earnest, young, geeky men (yes, it’s usually men), come into the room, look it over, observe the purple glow emanating on my screen, (my students think I design pink SmartNotebook lessons–!), and tell me it’s not working.

Yes, I know. (Did I wear my “I’m with Luddite” T-shirt today?)

The last young man to survey the issue (I think it needs to be replaced, but in lieu of that, at least a new bulb and some fresh cables), was rendered helpless by the sheer volume of STUFF I have. It may as well been a 30′ bramble wall, waiting to slice the young hero with its prickly thorns and cleaving vines. The sleeping beauty of wall plugs and jacks lay just beyond his reach over the thick curriculum notebooks, writing instructional materials, professional journals and books, and assessment booklets.

I am not a hoarder. I have no issues with trashing/recycling. Re-using, not so much. But having had to create curriculum from scratch, it occurred to me how loathe I am to chuck it. I have a file cabinet full, baskets, buckets, portable file cases, drawers – every storage space is used. What will I really be giving up if it just goes away? Am I afraid to lose my touch, my hold, with my own professional development, knowledge, and accomplishments?

Well, time to get up, get it clean, throw it out, and recycle what I can. Give myself permission to teach a lesson twice, three times, etc.; I guess the key is in the reflection and flexibility with students. I have never had the same entrenched year – and I don’t see that ever happening.

Bored? No. Inundated? Yes.