Kelly Love

Relevance.

You may all think I am evangelizing the mighty gospel of gaming, but that is not true.

What I am promoting is relevance.

My brother-in-law works for Blizzard games. He has been working 60-90 hour weeks for months on end. He is extremely talented and intelligent, like all of the Love brothers. He sent this e-mail about his work on Diablo III yesterday afternoon:

http://eu.blizzard.com/diablo3/world/systems/runestones.xml

The above link has some breakdown videos of various player skills in Diablo III. We just released this info to the public today. I did all of the special FX for these, except for the baseline whirlwind and some of the Cluster Arrow variations. Some of these things, such as the Monk’s Sweeping Wind variations, require a entire week to create. So, now you can see where all those long hours have been going.

Enjoy!

Here is an e-mail I sent to my brother-in-law in response:

B-I-L: – shared this with some of my students this morning, and talked about the relevance of learning math, science, language arts especially – and how they connect. Between the understanding of complex mathematical systems, and science systems, like flocking, physics, etc. and the dialogue and text of Language Arts, they need to know these entertaining and engaging games don’t just come out of “nowhere” but come from months of blood, sweat, tears, and mainly: intelligent talent.

The real challenge of an 8^th grade teacher is making sure they begin to connect the relevance of their education with their connected and engaged futures. They are going into 9^th grade where things start to ‘count,’ and if there is undiscovered talent or drive, oftentimes it gets lost in the mystification of “how is this going to help me?” They are constantly looking for the cost/benefit analysis and finding a vacuum instead.

And, they all thought it was COOL! Me, too! Can’t wait.

Kelly

PS Someday it would be wonderful if you could come and speak at my school.

Just a mental note-to-self that was motivates us is not necessarily not doing any work at all, but doing work that feels important and relevant. Many times this year, perhaps, that’s what I felt: that what I was doing wasn’t making a difference, wasn’t relevant, or impactful. My motivation, my drive, in the past was signified by being a rock star of curriculum planning, creative lessons, etc. I need to get back to those roots, the big, burning questions of our lives we want answered.

My team and I are looking forward to next year so much. There is a renewed excitement that feels genuinely needed and warranted. Hope the blood, sweat, and tears of my own profession leaves me just as satisfied and proud.

Summer romance.

This is a timely reflection on summer reading lists: http://www.visualthesaurus.com/cm/teachersatwork/2856/

No one ever gave me a summer reading list. No one had to: I just read. I associate the blood, chills, and horror of The Shining with the cheer of a July sun. The Mists of Avalon was read on sandy beaches: the moors and castle walls brought to life in the pages of a book, with gritty sand and coconut oil in the background. Soaking in the sun’s rays or cooling off in air conditioning, there was a novel in my hands at all times.

Most of what I do is basically this: I try to get 8th grade students to not hate school.

They come to me saying they hate to read. They hate to write. And I feel that I have to constantly “trick them” into other behaviors. It feels manipulative and sneaky sometimes. That spoonful of sugar only works with British governesses who drop out of skies, slowed by bumbershoots. But I model that joy, share it excessively, exhubertenly, and rain down on their darling heads lots of sugar and chimney dance numbers.

But it doesn’t always work.

And I must admit, sometimes I feel a bit discouraged. Were there more kids who would step up and read? Now it seems that the majority are defiantly, blatantly embracing ignorance and broken habits of mind. We enjoyed an emergence of a generation of nerds and geeks who rule; is now the age of the punks and rebels?

I look around. Did we “take away” the summer day, the day at the beach, park, library, where a kid can just read?

It’s our fault. Bring back the metaphorical lounge chair.

Characters out of the bag.

http://characterproject.usanetwork.com/#!/

Currently, I’m having fun in my spare time writing again. I say it’s “fun,” but am not sure that’s true. Is writing “fun?”

In a story I’m working on now, the main character shares a lot of qualities with who I was in my 20s, some of the same pitfalls and heartaches. But how much is loosely biographical, and used as a launching point, does an audience believe or trust? In other words, will they read it, and think it’s all about me, and not an exploration of bigger themes?

Right now, we’re working on a creative writing assignment, an idea I borrowed from my mentor, and she borrowed from someone else. The idea is to take a brown paper bag, and put a variety of objects in this bag. As a class, we decided not to use anything that wouldn’t normally fit in a gym bag, backpack or purse. For example, you couldn’t put a car, but a toy car would be fine. In order to speed things along, students could print or draw pictures of the objects. (In the future, I don’t recommend this. Having the tactile objects is much more engaging. Live and learn.) This has a caution, too: students should not put anything in their bags that they would mind never seeing again, because they trade bags.

Students’ reactions were interesting:

Do they just write about the objects?

Do they write about themselves?

So, here is what I modeled:

In the bag: movie tickets, hair bow, cell phone, picture of a puppy, and a bag of cookies.

We went through the list, and determined some of the character’s basics: gender, age, etc.

My off-the-top-of-head story: (I said this out loud, not writing.)

She sat alone in the darkened movie theatre. Credits end, and house lights go on. She sits there and stares at her cell phone for the twentieth time. No text from him. She had been stood up again. She reaches in the bag of homemade chocolate-walnut cookies, the ones she promised him she’d make. This was the third time he has sent her a text asking her out. She believed him. There was usually some good reason why he didn’t show. She shouldn’t have eaten the cookies. She was trying to lose a few pounds, to impress him, and the butter alone would put her off her goal for a week. Glancing down at the cell phone again, no text or message. Blinking in the bright sunlight of the afternoon, she didn’t see the three girls across the street, laughing hysterically. They had gotten her again, and couldn’t wait to put up the pix of the fat girl walking out of the movie alone on Facebook.

Now, every 8th grade kid gasps, and some say, “Oh, Mrs. Love, that’s GREASY!” — Translation: “greased” to be ill used.

Then some asked, “Is that a true story?”

Well, I wasn’t a chubby teenage girl. I have never been stood up (a personal record), and Facebook didn’t exist when I was a teenage (and, again, thank heavens!!).

Explaining that writers are, and are not, their stories, when writing fiction, is a tricky concept for the literally-minded adolescent (and adult). That we take little gems, seeds, nuggets, and springboard to telling tall-tales when we want to explore a burning question or theme is complicated. I was thinking of what actors and actresses must go through when portraying a convincing kiss on screen. There is a whole crew watching, and their own loved ones at home. They must kiss someone that they are not in love with (with the exception of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie), and make it convincing, real, and get their audience swept up in the moment. However they as individuals feel about that kiss is moot.

Allowing ourselves to play those roles on paper is both terrifying and exhilarating, and may be the essence of what is so powerful of the written word. And it’s tough to keep that one in the bag.

Postcript: Some of my students’ stories are absolutey amazing. Love being a teacher: get paid to read and write most of the day, and share in the creative process. Wow.

WIHWT: A reflection

http://www.johntspencer.com/2011/05/reflections-on-death-of-terrorist.html

WIHWT: Drive by Daniel Pink

Maybe reading this again may answer some of my burning questions, Drive by Daniel Pink. Here is an excerpt screenshot from my Kindle:

Poker face.

My burning question for today (with a side of meltdown, frustration, and melted mascara) is: Are we raising a generation of liars?

Covering a remedial math class this morning due to an emergency, the absent, ill teacher inadvertently forgot lesson plans for this small class. No worries: I asked the school secretary and she repeated what the sick teacher said, albeit it was intended for her other classes. Having paid my dues as a guest teacher while working on my Master’s, I pride myself on being able to think and act quickly walking into a classroom of unknown students.

“What are you working on now?”

“I don’t know.”

“We don’t know.”

After five minutes or more of interrogation, I finally got one semi-honest student to show me their green math workbooks.

“Okay, where did you leave off in the book?”

“I don’t know.”

“We don’t know.”

The roles devolved into me, the interrogator, the Spanish inquisition, to them, the innocent and righteous rebels, fighting for their freedom. Freedom from what exactly?

From the pain of not understanding 4th-grade level math?

Self-esteem and confidence issues aside, these students, (mostly one or two ring leaders who took it upon themselves to lead the others by the nose ) would not have a chance to practice very low-level math problems. Out of about eighteen students, perhaps three actually did what they were supposed to do without incident. I almost hooked one student by saying how good it felt to actually do a problem, solve it, and get the right answer–she almost got engaged. She was the little fish who got away. But almost doesn’t cut it when one alpha student decides she’s going to bully her into not completing her work. Those girls knew exactly where they were in the book, exactly what they were supposed to do, and spent the entire time with masterful work avoidance.

I want to say I can’t blame them: if the news or social media breaks through to them, which we all know it does, it’s full of falsehoods and fantasy. The fantasy and creativity I can handle: I swim in that soup myself, and it’s fun, engaging, and satisfying. I love to write, create, socialize, produce, and yes, talk. But sometimes the dishes need to be washed, and sometimes there is a moment when you need to learn how to reduce fractions. Sorry. And that is how a 14-year-old gets to 8th grade without understand fractions. We let them lie, and we lie to ourselves.

For example, we allow for this nonsense to happen (and it happens on every and all sides):

Republican leaders on Thursday slammed President Obama’s release of his detailed birth certificate as a distraction from the nation’s real concerns and attempted to point the finger at him for bringing heightened media attention to it.

If I was a Republican, Tea Party-er, or Libertarian, even I, right about now, would be tired of this silliness and snake oil. (Wouldn’t I?)

Just as I am a bit tired from my political philosophies constantly being challenged and crumbly.

I am a dork, and read everything, even my silly horoscope from time to time, like a fortune cookie. It’s taken about that seriously. Its generalizations and pseudo-science are just as dangerous for the ignorant mind as belief in oxymoron-ic honest politicians or jumbo shrimp.

My horoscope today (lies): You cannot hide your true intentions now that the Moon is in your sign, for others can see through your attempts at secrecy. Although being vulnerable makes you feel unsafe, your fears could be worse than any real danger. Don’t waste your energy protecting yourself from others; instead work to build your self-esteem so it doesn’t matter if anyone sees through your veneer. Honoring your integrity is the best way to assure your emotional security.

Own emotional security: how do we tell children that you really, REALLY will feel best if you have your own sense of accomplishment? How it really feels to just do the work? Get a little mentally sweaty from using one’s own brain to creatively solve problems and not creatively avoid them?

A teacher told me the other day that one of students said to her, “You know, failure IS an option.”

It sure is – perhaps we promote students who aren’t ready, thus perpetuating the lies. They learn how to hide behind others either with bravado or timidity, but there is a tell.

I see them: but at this point in the year, to still have to be turning over boulders to expose the bugs seems unfair to us all.

How do you handle this?

WIHST: She Said…

I want to be one of the back-up vocalists for this one: http://teamcoco.com/content/soul-singerrapper-plan-b-performs-his-song-she-said

Fly away or stay grounded…

My best friend’s father passed away. She and I have known each other since we were 13. I found out yesterday: the short, expressive email was truly heartbreaking. I didn’t, or couldn’t really process it until the drive in this morning. Every instinct told me to fly to her side and hug her, and just be there, and listen.

Still crying this morning, I think of how many people have to leave sadness or hurt on the threshold every day. Two funny, sweet students stopped by my room to give me some Easter chocolate. One saw I was upset, and then did this to cheer me up:*

This is a replica of a monkey skull. Easter egg chocolates for eyes. These kids are masters at getting adults out of funks–it’s their full-time jobs in many of their homes. And that humor and sweetness can be their greatest survival skills. I learn so much from them.

*This is not about me–it’s about my friend, her mother, and her family. This was just my students’ effort to ease my sadness.

Radioactive Mariah Carey

I have a lot of quotes in my room. Never a “hang in there kitty poster,” but a few little nuggets of wisdom. To keep things looking fresh, I move things around from time to time. I recently put a quote from Marie Curie outside my door, above my name plate:

Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.

Read more: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/m/marie_curie.html#ixzz1K5HLSk8h

A student notices this quote, and has some bad news for me. Apparently, I spelled Marie Curie’s name wrong: it should be Mariah Carey.

Before I go on any further, you must know this post is in no way a mocking or eye-rolling response to the student–far, FAR from it.

This is about my contemplation of late regarding parents, and parenting skills, tools, and the importance in education.

I am not a perfect parent. As my dad always said, “The most important job in the world is given to amateurs.” That may or may not be original with my father, but if you knew my dad you would know he deserves the credit. I was fortunate enough as a young mother to be able to stay at home for a few years with our sons, and even then it felt overwhelming, lonely, and sometimes excruciatingly boring. I know that’s not the pink angels and roses “mom” thing to say, but it’s the truth. Hours combing over the same books, “reading” the images of Goodnight Gorilla repeatedly, or questioning the morality of Curious George (still am very ambivalent about that simian), could be mind-numbingly boring for me. But I wouldn’t trade a single second. And I know all that talking, pointing out, engaging, zoo trips, (still say Seattle is one of the best places in the world to raise children), Pacific Science Center excursions, and even just grocery store trips helped both my sons with language, experiences, and interactions that cannot be overstated.

So, I explain to the student who Marie Curie was:*

And that Mariah Carey is NOT anywhere near Marie Curie:

(Mariah Carey in a reflective moment…)

Now – on my random path, my husband sent me this link yesterday, because I basically had said the same thing as this commentator, that I would have LOVED to have been in the board room when this idea was pitched. Great minds, eh? In any case, exploitation, manipulation or neglect isn’t relegated to class or social status. Many parents have the means to educate and care for their children, and yet they choose not to. Many parents want to do as much as they can, but can’t afford to. I want to gag when I think of Hilary Clinton’s “takes a village” quote, but sheesh, people!?

Next, are you going to tell me to “hang in there?”

How about we make a deal–all of us? You, me, students, administrators, etc.: You read and talk to your kids when they’re little. Tell them the teacher likes them, maybe even loves them, almost as much as you do; if you don’t know how to read, look at picture books without words when they’re tiny; show them how to hold a book, turn pages, and snuggle on your lap, even for fifteen minutes. Turn off the TV. Dress them safely and warmly. Try to feed them good food for their little hearts, tummies, and brains. Get help when you need help. The key part to that quote is “THE MOST IMPORTANT JOB IN THE WORLD….” You may be an amateur, but we all are. You don’t need a professional to raise your child, like a doctor or teacher. You may need their care and support, but this is your job. Now, professionals: do your job. Help parents. Support them. Know that they are doing the best they can.

*I definitely consider this part of my job, by the way.

Parents: Don’t dress your daughters like tramps: http://www.cnn.com/2011/OPINION/04/19/granderson.children.dress/index.html?hpt=T2

Help! Help! I'm being repressed!

This is when my job completely, totally is fantastic. Talking about “The Necklace” today in second period, class structure came up with a small group: this scene popped into my mind, the peasant scene from Monty Python/Holy Grail. When I saw it in high school it changed my life. Changed. My. Life. Yes – randomness. Segue from one of the great literary examples of irony to the classic parody of the King Arthur legends? Sure–and I made it look easy.

http://www.montypython.net/grailmm1.php#Scene%203

[clop clop]

ARTHUR: Old woman! What knight lives in that castle over there?

DENNIS: Man!

ARTHUR: Man, sorry.

DENNIS: I’m thirty seven.

ARTHUR: What?

DENNIS: I’m thirty seven — I’m not old!

ARTHUR: Well, I can’t just call you `Man’.

DENNIS: Well, you could say `Dennis’.

ARTHUR: Well, I didn’t know you were called `Dennis.’

DENNIS: Well, you didn’t bother to find out, did you?