This is a follow-up to Part 1 of “Go West, Teacher!” One of my burning questions is a ‘Now and Then’ sort of game — what do we do now, and what did folks do back then to (fill in the blank)? Many of these will be treated in a constructivist model, with the questions posed as writing about what students’ experiences are now, and then constructing and inquiring about the past. Any suggestions for constructing meaning and thinking are welcome.
How did the Europeans construct their ‘new world?’ What ideals should they have left behind, and what values and technologies help them survive? (What IF they had left some of their values behind and embraced the indigenous cultures’ values instead–how might our country be different?)
I appreciate your indulgence in these ‘curation posts’.
Postscript:
Just as a placeholder, here are the texts used for 7th grade (Washington State) in the past:
A unit on Japanese Interment camps would be excellent. No to “Jackie’s Wild” and “Walk Across the Sea”…hard to teach texts that are not engaging personally.
Chock full of unity-goodness, just needs updating and refinement.
Teachers need one for Shame, Student Success Joy, Professional Guide, and Data Wrangler.
Come on old brain, learn some new tricks! Is it possible to re-program a brain to think differently, not focus on the negative, but wash away shameful thoughts and quickly suture confidence? Hope so. Remember, there’s no such thing as overnight success, people! I have faith–I’m a writer, after all. Whatever that means. (Maybe I need Journalist Inner Voice, too?)
The other day I had a gift of an opportunity to discuss ideas for next year: it was a good chance to listen to new directives and possibilities. My local professional circle is characterized by folks of immeasurable generosity, new connections and long-time colleagues. I have been attempting to do planning now for next year, anticipating and adapting for students’ needs. I have a lot of questions about new directions, and am desperately trying to sort out the most important things. But me and my big mouth. Unfortunately, I wrote something in an e-mail that was too strident in tone, and I wish I could have the chance to say it differently, because what I was trying to say matters. Because I said it in a matter-of-fact way the perception (and understandable) may have been that I was being petulant and stubborn, not action-oriented. From that point, what got lost, because of my own stupidity, was the potential for a great discussion about the bigger ideas. I mishandled it, and made it worse. Talk about the alarm bells going off! There isn’t a homunculus personified emotion representation for how it feels to feel ashamed at allowing the conversation to veer off into personality ditches. Where is the “Beating Yourself Up” inner voice?
My new homunculus: Inner Monk
Here was the big idea: there are solid concepts, enduring understandings, and pedagogical foundations that transcend change. A few examples may be the concept of Name, Voice, Identity, Social Justice, History Repeats, Monomyth Studies/Archetypes, Storytelling Over Time, etc. These themes in the Humanities are transformative for generations of students. The time and place, however, for these deep discussions about instruction is something I need to work on, big time. But what steps to take, which direction to go?
As we shift toward focused, skill-based conversations about instruction and less about the means of delivery, I know I’m blessed–the empowerment of teacher choice and autonomy is huge, and that message was clearly communicated, for which I am grateful.
Keep in mind, the standards are helpful in guidance, but not necessarily these ‘big view’ ideas:
Before we myopically fixate on any set of new standards, teachers and administrators would be well served to remind themselves two things about the new standards: (1) teachers who religiously follow them are being asked to do things that are not in the best interest of our students, and (2) these new standards will one day be ushered out the door to make room for the next generation of “improved” standards. When first introduced, new standards come with a certain gravitas— a gravitas, however, that is unlikely to persist. One study, How Well Are American Students Learning? The 2012 Brown Center Report on American Education, notes that “standards with real consequences are most popular when they are first proposed. Their popularity steadily declines from there, reaching a nadir when tests are given and consequences kick in.
Gallagher, Kelly (2015-02-28). In the Best Interest of Students: Staying True to What Works in the ELA Classroom (Kindle Locations 157-162). Stenhouse Publishers. Kindle Edition.
Most of the time I am in the role of listener. I listen to directives, agendas, targets, and translating subtext. (Translating subtext is a skill I wish I could shed, however. Blessing in the classroom when I’m listening to a student, a curse when I recognize others are not synthesizing or integrating concepts, or I’m failing at communication.) I am the receiver of others’ decisions and discussions, and no longer at the local ‘big kids table.’ And that is totally okay.
Choosing time and place is tricky. It was a great discussion about logistics and philosophies, and that’s really important. I listened, and listened deeply, to the bigger message. It’s possible, and perhaps preferable, to keep those big idea conversations in my own head as I clean out the mental teacher clutter. I am an ambivert, and need processing time. However, that internal monologue at some point needs to be external: I love my partnerships and collaboration, and am so grateful for PLNs (Professional Learning Networks). So the take-away: not all conversations should be about the means of delivery of instruction. This is where a PLN (Professional Learning Network) is a lifesaver.
Ah, but what a gift that is: I am free to create on my own, and collaborate with whom I choose. One of my passionate PLN connections has, and will forever be, with the National Writing Project. I can’t wait for the first of two workshops starting tomorrow. I have things to pack my lunch, and extra snacks! (I might even write myself a note to put in my lunch bag: they’ll command, “Make Me Proud!” and “Make Good Choices!”)
PSWP Writing Workshop | One of the pillars of the National Writing Project is that teachers of writing should write. In this class we immerse ourselves in the writing workshop, focusing on ourselves as writers. We spend time writing, working in writing groups, sharing craft lessons, and reflecting on our writing process. Genre for your writing is open; craft lessons focus on memoir, article writing, and fiction. We welcome anyone who teaches.
PSWP Reading and Writing in ELA and Social Studies | This class focuses on language arts and social studies content and how to approach the new thinking and skill demands of the Common Core. We explore strategies for teaching students to think, read, and write in English, social studies, and/or humanities classes. This engaging class is inquiry-based, hands-on, and practical.
This past June, one of the nicest things an exiting teacher told me was to keep her on my ‘tech tips’ e-mail list; she loves those tips, and wanted to make sure she was still included. No one pays me for those, and oftentimes I thought they were either annoying folks, or being sucked into a vacuum. This local PLN heartened me greatly.
I strongly encourage you to curate your own PLN: Three Steps for Building a Professional Learning Network by Brianna Crowley. My own Twitter account, @mrskellylove, has a wide variety of interest and friends, as well as professional connections. (I am not so great at delineating knowledge and curiosity from multiple sources.)
There are hundreds of potential PLN connections, from politics, to social studies, authors, researchers, science, math, current issues to history. Caution: once you fall down this rabbit hole it’s tough to get back out. But you won’t want to–it’s a safe place to discuss big ideas. And the coffee is just how you like it.
I have only had one teaching job to date, and this past spring I wondered if the grass might be greener. I’ve been honest with employers and interview committees of why I may be seeking other opportunities, and subsequently why I decided to stop having those conversations for the time being. I am overdue for some professional growth opportunities: those moments have been truncated and stagnant with past administrators (note: this is not a criticism, just a different leadership style and priorities). There has been a lot to learn from sitting on that side of the interview table, and I’ve also been sitting on the interviewer side, too. I can’t and won’t divulge details of what candidates offered, nor where I took missteps. (Okay: I’ll share one: I pointed out a typo on the questions for a high school ELA position, joking that I wondered if it was a test. The unsmiling faces and defensiveness of the teachers interviewing me assured me no, it was not intentional, and their senses of humor, in short supply anyway, quickly evaporated. Is it sour grapes to say it probably wasn’t a good fit if they didn’t get my irreverent sense of humor?)
Sorry for the detour. This is intended to be a discussion about ‘how to teach [fill in the blank]. A colleague and I noticed none of the ELA candidates spoke to reading instruction other than an aside, and all (and I am not being generalizing or global here) spoke about writing instruction and their work in that area. Some spoke about presentation and the listening/speaking standards; however, reading was the afterthought.
I am wondering if maybe the questions themselves lent the respondents to focus on writing, or if there is some message that’s being telegraphed about writing instruction being neglected. I wonder if others believe I’m not a competent teacher of reading because I talked about my work with PSWP/NWP, and my work with reading instruction is quiet and deep. (I would have thought my masters in children’s literature as engaging reading instruction, my National Boards certification, or my multiple novel units/curriculum would have demonstrated adequately my skills, but I am terrible at self-promotion.) This is the only reason I can think some jumped to this Island of Conclusions.
“To be sure,” said Canby; “you’re on the Island of Conclusions. Make yourself at home. You’re apt to be here for some time.”
This not only deeply offends me, but these dangerous assumptions create a climate of defensiveness and undermining. And I am struck by how much I’m not laughing about it now, either. And perhaps those multiple candidates did not speak about reading because teaching reading is about as difficult as it gets. Our responses and biases toward any text are as complex as a dream, and twice as difficult to describe or explain.
Why is reading difficult to teach? While many articles focus on teachers’ actions as the culprit for why reading is a “instructional ghetto,” many voices strive to underscore the inequity of school-readiness. I know whose parents have the luxury of time to read to their children, and those who don’t. I’ve encouraged many students throughout the year to read to younger siblings. I’ve done book talks, librarian discussions, close text and annotating lessons, and a text-rich classroom.
Personally, I’m returning to basics, as well as refreshing some tried and true approaches. I’ve linked this before, but it deserves another read, to think about engaging texts not in terms of difficulty, but in terms of thematic thinking. Close reading need not be the pulling the wings off the butterfly, but expressing the beauty and anguish in language; not being afraid to teach the fundamentals of reading. By the time I get students in eighth grade, there will be a handful in every class who do not know that the vowel sound changes if you had an ‘e’ at the end, or to chunk sound patterns instead of the laborious ‘sounding it out.’ Their prior teachers did nothing wrong: the gaps come from our never-ending push through of students and not knowing their strengths and weaknesses.
One thing I plan on doing intentionally and wholly this year is teaching reading with love. Not the kind of love that is mushy or some kind of Facebook sentimental glop. The kind of love that is dangerous, and full of conflict and struggle, as well as safety and agreement. I’m going to hold that baby multiple ways, but never, ever drop it.
Older than the fridge it’s on, this relic list still satisfies and inspires
Monday and Tuesday found me and my colleagues in another “studio” style professional development. I can trace the evolution of this professional development to two species: one, where I used to do work off-campus with my mentor on novel units, and two, the desire we teachers expressed to talk to each other more, learn from each other, and visit each others’ classrooms. Somehow the District heard this as, “Let’s hire a consultant to go in and run professional development.” It’s been truly transformative, and I’ve learned so much, but can’t help but feel that once again there is a slight patronizing wash over the whole thing, that veteran and new teachers alike are not capable of learning from each other, or to be trusted with our own professional development.
To help the guest teacher, I always leave my district-issued laptop in my room, and bring my personal one. My personal one is cool, sleek, and just BUSTING with novel ideas, story starts, haikus, poems, and yes, the ubiquitous to-do list in the form of Stickies. The coach for our professional development noticed the stickies all over my desktop, and said something to the effect she used to have the same, etc. (sic: Perhaps become more organized, or is using a different method.)
Her funny comment made me actually look and read my sticky notes again. (We both mused at my different colors: there was a system at one point, but now it’s just for visual effect.) Everything from who’s in my current PSWP writing group, household projects, project ideas, and all the minutiae of teaching, parenting, and perpetual problem solving. But there are hundreds of things not on any sticky note or to-do list. I have two sons, very different, both brave, creative, and loyal to each other, but each have different paths I have to help clear and guide. My husband’s health and his volatile industry, with the life-span of a typical UX Designer (and he is a genius one) of about two-three years means I respond by taking root in a job so deep, with roots seeking the deepest aquifers to try to stay alive and sustain my soul. Sound over dramatic? Try my job sometime. My dog needs to go to the vet. The mammogram is a year overdue. The teeth haven’t been cleaned. And administrators need everyone to be all above average. Oh, and the legislators are considering pay scale based on test scores.
Welcome to Lake Wobegon, where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.
Lists can buoy us or anchor us. The invisible on the lists drown us. If I actually listed all the nonsense that floats around in my brain, the ocean of mental trash generated by those who pollute my professional and personal life, perhaps I wouldn’t be able to do anything at all. See my list up there? There are some things I can cross off. And to be sure, there are some things I need to add.
These are the composition books that went into recycling. They didn’t change any students’ lives. Am I a bad teacher because these students didn’t see the value in their work and knowledge?
There is a Blizzard Entertainment computer card game I have played a lot this summer. Why? I don’t know. Why do you play Candy Crush sometimes? We are chickens pecking for grain, all I suppose. The game is called Hearthstone(TM), and it’s a lot of fun. Kind of. It reminds me of something Harry Potter might play, a magical card game. And, it’s just challenging enough to engage me in small doses, and simple enough to have a few “wins.” Players can choose to build decks from the standard World of Warcraft classes: hunter, mage, warrior, etc.But there is one deck that I hate to come up against, and that’s the Priest deck. I have been most successful with mages and paladins. But priests: priests are what gamers dub “OP” – over powered. They have several cards that destroy low cards, obilterate high cards, card spells that double the health of a card, steal cards from your deck in several ways, and take control of a minion. Every time I put down my Ragnaros card (Duh! Ragnaros is an evil fire lord!) that deals 8 damage at the end of every turn, I hold my breath that it doesn’t get taken by the priest player. And inevitably it does. As much I have lost to priests so often that many times I’ll just hit the ‘concede’ button and go down a rank versus go through the protracted dance of failure. I know it will only end in tears.
This begs the question: why don’t Iplay a priest deck? I have, on occasion, but it’s not all that interesting. It’s predictable bullying, and not a fair fight. Give me a spicy round with a warlock using murlocs and imps any time with my frost bolts and polymorphing spells, and win or lose, game time was much more fun.
I’ve lost you, I know–there is a point here.
So, summer time. My summer break. Yup. Yup. Yup. I haven’t felt like reading, haven’t felt like doing much of anything, really. I didn’t want a list, didn’t want to accomplish anything, do anything, or think about anything. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but my usual busman’s holiday of creating hours of lessons and teaching materials went on ice for the month of July. I did some things, sure, things I wanted to do, like start a new blog, and purchases my annual stacks of composition books. I paid for those composition books out of my own pocket, instead of taking my sons out for some burgers or buying new cute shoes. Small issue. No big deal. We’re happy. It makes me glad to hand those composition books to students, and then years later have one wonderful student she still has hers. Worth every penny.
Toward the end of last school year, my principal wasn’t sure where she was going to place me. Since so many highly qualified teachers left our building (and many the profession altogether) I was one of the few who had double highly-qualified capacity to teach both social studies and language arts (ye old humanities, folks) but the stipulation would be I would go back to 7th grade. I sobbed at the end of last year, sitting in the young, new counselor’s office, expressing how I felt I was being ‘punished for being good.’ All I wanted, for my upcoming 9th year, was just two years in a row of not just consistency, but crafting and honing lessons. JUST ONCE, to see what’s it’s like to take reflections, copious notes, plans, ideas, and make it really start to click and work. I’m a ‘good’ teacher, and good teachers always want to be better. There is no raise, no bump in pay, so monetary rewards are non-exisistent. My principal told me when I stopped in her office that she (jokingly) didn’t want to hear me whine for another year, so I was staying in my 8th grade position.
Haha. Not quite feeling respected, but respect doesn’t come from anyone else in our fair profession.
So many teachers left our building, many because of health issues. One young man left after one year because he, well, just wanted to teach at an “easier” school. Can’t blame him. These teachers are not retiring, they are not middle-aged, they are not going off into the wild blue yonder–primarily they are young women who are being thrashed, harassed, and undermined at every turn. I myself just had two years of ‘mysterious’ ailments, both resulted in minor surgeries. (We’ll leave it at that.) There is buzz that there’s going to be a teacher shortage, that many who would have gone into the profession simply won’t, or leave after five to seven years. If not for the genuine admiration I have for my students and colleagues, and the collegial interactions I’ve offered, and gained, I’m not sure how much personal professional stamina I could maintain.
Note that the highest turn-over rates are in private schools, so I dug a little deeper. Brown wants to abolish unions so that tenure is gone. All right. It is difficult to dismiss a ‘bad’ teacher, and thank goodness. It takes years of education, training, and continually investing in one’s career. My student loans are the tip of the ice berg. The pencils, paper, supplies, fees to take my boards, fees for multiple tests, thousands of dollars I’ve invested in myself as a professional, not to mention thousands of dollars of novels in my classroom library. I am not exaggerating. If I didn’t have a strong union behind me to back me up in case I get a vengeful administrator or sniping parent, I would have left a long time ago, have no doubt. The low salary vs. security is the trade off for many of us. In other words, I don’t mind being paid low for my level of education and investment as long as I know when I set up my classroom this fall my expertise and skills will be valued, and not having to stress about being capriciously fired. I’m too busy trying to emotionally disarm a student who jokes he has a gun in his locker. That’s stressful enough.
I felt this despondency the other day– my husband makes exactly three times what I make, and thank heavens. We are striving to maintain middle-class amenities. We don’t have new cars. We are trying to pay for our eldest son’s college so he won’t be burdened with student loans. I have the student loans in our family, upwards of $40,000. I keep having to defer them because of other financial crisis that pop up. I have three times the education my husband does, and make three times less. I knew this going in, I did. But knowing something and living something are two very different things. And it was fine for many years. There is the ‘profession’ of teaching, and there is the ‘job’ of teaching. I still love the profession, it’s the job that’s wearing me down. I’m doing my middle-class job and being told I stink.
We teach so many lost children, and it’s my mission this year to make full-on concerted efforts to reach to parents more than ever. I will do whatever I can to support them, ‘have their backs’ as it were. Because no one else seems too, least of all Campbell Brown. Where is my team of lawyers to back me up? How can this group continue to tout itself as ‘for the children’ yet they are spending so much money that will more than likely further to marginalize children?
So when Campbell Brown gets on the Colbert Report and begins her opaque and condescending agenda about teachers’ unions, I cried. I startled my younger son, because we were all just hanging out and having fun, watching Colbert, laughing, and then she comes on. It made me sick with anger. It was what she didn’t say that upset me. In all of her dart-throwing, where were her answers? Tearfully dismantling unions, and then what? What next? Okay, kids! No more school to be hurt by all those bad teachers!! Her misguided agenda is dangerous. My flash point saw red, and that’s all there is to it. She drained my mojo.
Are there bad teachers? Of course. There are bad parents. Bad doctors. Bad principals. Bad people everywhere. People who run the gamut of simple incompetency to outright criminal acts. I had those bad teachers: the geometry teacher who drank gin and read the newspaper. The pot-smoking social studies teacher. My husband had one who sold hand-made jewelry.
Many of my conservatives friends say I’m too emotional. They start throwing rhetorical words at me like that shields everyone from the conversation. Here is who I am: I am an emotional person, and I am fair, too. I am do not draw my opinions along party lines, far from it. I draw my opinions from my own life experience, observations, research, and a uncanny sense of spotting someone’s shenanigans. Please do not think this has anything to do with plastic politics or labels. I know a dangerous person when I see her. And you should, too.
To be fair, maybe there are issues in New York state I don’t see.Maybe their unions are thuggish and slow to respond. However, the national trend of Common Core and (over-testing) national testing standards, and revamped teacher evaluations allow for scrutiny of teachers more than ever before. Meaning, Brown’s fighting ghosts. There are pay scales, equal benefits, and requirements, no matter whether we are at a ‘tough’ school or an ‘easy’ one. (Like children, I am not sure I believe in tough versus easy: all teaching is challenging.) We are held to the same standards. The new teaching evaluation system is crippling thorough. I can’t share the materials, but I’m sure I can share a link –it is the Internet after all. The rubric for teachers’ evaluation is over 35+ metrics long with five categories. Is that what you have for your evaluations at your job? Or is it more simplified? Do you get a cost of living increase? I haven’t.
Ms. Brown: unions are not your enemy. But you are mine. However, I’m not going to worry about you. You can side-step where the money’s coming from, I get it. That’s what all over-powered people do – lie about funding, agendas, and stand behind prattle “it’s for the kids.” I’m going to put my energy to positive use – all I can do. And turns out, it’s pretty powerful. When it comes to effective teaching, like parenting, consistency, security, and maintaining continuity of culture. They will never meet another person like Mrs. Love.
This is one of those writing-to-publish moments I may regret. I am still so romanced and naive about the whole “Internet is permanent” thing that sometimes it takes over my better judgment, what little there is of it. I will rationalize it with this: I am a believer in sharing of credible information, so I will take up that banner, and march bravely on. You will understand in a moment.
This school year, so far, has been amazing. I asked our intrepid school counselor to put as many of my seventh grade students on my eighth grade rosters, and he did, and I am thoroughly enjoying meeting many wonderful new students. Let me qualify “wonderful:” these students have already been freely expressing emotions, curiosity, creativity, and genuine kindness. I have one I am concerned about for many reasons, and one I am concerned about for other reasons, but I can see how building a community can help pull the tide of compassion to all of our benefits. Our new principal is just what I and the school needed: direct, bullet-pointed and logical. It feels refreshing to have data provided and time to work in PLCs to analyze it, because as we all know, data without analysis are rubbish (and yes, data are plural, as in “Data R Us.”) At first glance, “my” reading numbers for seventh grade jumped up (I did not teach seventh grade in 2011-2012, but my eighth grade students were hovering around 55%):
Writing: Not so great. I have a few theories on this, but suffice it to say when we analyzed our students’ writing last year, we spent a lot of time looking at each others’ students, and not our own, and feedback to our own students was starved of time. That was one hill I “died” on, but will continue the discussion if I need to do so.
It was also interesting to note the rise of free and reduced lunches, from around 65% to almost 75%. Well, I say “interesting,” but that is not the word. It’s not interesting at all, or surprising. We are still reeling from the fall-out of Wall Street greed, and will be recovering from that debacle for decades.
Which bring me to yesterday morning. My husband of almost twenty years has Type II Diabetes and atrial fibrillation. He blacked out yesterday morning, and we went to the new emergency room. He’s fine, and will be fine. Ignoring my logic and instincts, because I operate on both, which comes in the form of living in a constant state of asking “Is this foreshadowing in my real life?!”, I had thought to myself I had better get sub plans together, and my desk organized, in case something happened to him. And sure enough, between the 6:30 AM drives to jazz band for our boys, and meetings (see data above to know topic of said meetings) and then my own fuzzy-brain-ness at the end of the day (middle schoolers are an enthusiastic bunch), I didn’t get to it. I have NEVER not had a sub folder ready to go in my room, until of course, yesterday. Needless to say that is one thing I will be doing this weekend. To be clear: I did not share the story of my husband because I am seeking sympathy: I shared it because we are all going through something now, and seem to be on collective survivor mode. This is not good.
So, as I am checking emails and such, a very dear friend was quering me on the state of things in Chicago. Chicago? What? Why? I responded, mystified, and then realized, “Oh! Chicago!! The strike!” I was so self-absorbed in my own little patch of earth, my husband, my students, my data, my whatever, I have barely noticed. And that saddens me. Punching through the radio dial earlier this week, I heard one angry Chicago mother, screaming about the teachers’ greed. I turned to the rock station. I read one of my favorite bloggers, Teacher Tom, and his insights: http://teachertomsblog.blogspot.com/2012/09/i-stand-with-chicago-teachers.htm
and I looked over another one of my favorite teacher bloggers, John Spencer, to see if he had anything to say, but I couldn’t find a specific post.
But here is what I think, and have thought:
This is more of the same. Greed, bullying, and disregard for what makes our country superlative: free, public education.
We lose that, we lose everything.
For those of you who think that voting for the “rich guys” is going to make you part of their club, that ‘poverty by assoication’ is what you get when you vote for financial reform and ensuring those at the top pay their fair share, I am pleading with you–consider, well, me. I am one of the good guys. I am trying my damndest to education our children. I want our children to be able to articulate why they want to work for your company. I want our children to help make the world better, be it a software engineer, doctor, performance artist, writer, or risk analyst. Don’t believe the bully-spin.
We teachers all know of students whose parents have more than they can handle now. Single moms, more than three children, high unemployment, and their children begin to run feral. They entertain themselves by filming students fighting, or worse. They entertain themselves by manipulating their peers, and using technology to devastate each other. They use media to propogate hate and lies.
Wonder where they learn it?
So, I am going to do some thinking outside of my five-mile patch, and see if I can do some world-changing, too.
Addendum:
Of course, pondering the woulda-couldas, I realized this post was even leaning too much to the bleeding heart side, even for me. I had the chance to review it with my respected friend, who is a genius economics smarty-pants. I do not want to paint too broad of a stroke over the word “greed.” We can point to specific causes, for example the repeal of the Glass-Steagal act.
But–I am trying to pin down my point of all this: perhaps it’s while we’re all living our daily lives, trying to work, trying to raise families, trying to do whatever it is that brings us joy, we lose sight of our bigger goals. If I’m worried about my husband, and I’m worried about health benefits, then I’m worried if something happens to him, then I’m worried about trying to raise two sons on a teacher’s salary, then I’m worried I won’t be able to pay for their college, and so on, so that when things like the repeal of the Glass-Steagal acts happen, no one is on the watch, no one knows their history, and no one is there to try to keep it from repeating itself. This is squarely my opinion: the wealthiest want us to forget. They want us to not know. They want us to stay ignorant, so that we don’t say “Wait a red-hot minute!” They claim we are the bombastic, the audacious, the entitled and the ungrateful.
I just say –you’re breaking my heart, bleeding or not.
I love Look At My Happy Rainbow. He is my kindergarten counter-weight to where all sprouts begin–I am at the other end of the spectrum in 8th grade, where the sprouts are at their awkward “just about to blossom” phase?! Oh dear – yuck. That’s an awful analogy.
And though right now I am about as hyper, distracted, and antsy as any boy who’s forced to where his Sunday best when he’d rather go fishin’, his post reminded me about one I said would write about the particular care and feeding of girls. I have a big project to finish over spring break, and I don’t wanna. And that’s the thing about boys — they tend to do what they want to do. And I’d rather do this. Just write for myself.
DO NOT misunderstand me, please. Men can be responsible, dependable, trustworthy, heart-ful souls. At least my husband, father, sons, and male friends I’ve had and have. Respectful, chivalrous, and brave. And carefully protective. My husband does not open doors for me, nor does he remember anything about toilet seat positioning, but his ‘absent minded professor’ demeanor is pretty endearing.
But how did these strong caring men become this way?
Gender issues in classroom, the work environment, and the world are complicated. We are all still parceling out roles and identities.
But I can tell you from a female perspective, there is one thing that never seems to change, no matter how many Dove beauty product commericials try to convince us otherwise, is most of us have a very distorted view of our physical selves.
So–maybe this is about two things: how girls get in the low self-esteem pitfalls, and how boys help push them in. How we all push each other not-so-gently into roles we’d rather not act.
We’re still reading Absolutey True. The chapter we left on is when the love interest, Penelope (PENELOPE? Sherman Alexie – Penelope? I don’t think there is a big case of caucasion girls being named Penelope in the states, but it’s your story, your character), and Junior discovers her big secret: she is suffering from bulemia.
Now, my second period class is famous/infamous for grand discussions. Whatever I thought I might have planned is directed by this group of highly inquisitive students. There is the full barage of personalities, even for a small class. I adore them.
I decided to share a personal story, one I have not shared with anyone, really, about my tiny, small brush with an eating disorder in high school. I had only ever heard the word “anoerxia” but never bulemia. When I was a sophomore and dating one of my first serious high school boyfriends, his passing comment to me was something to the effect that I had a big behind. Six words: “Your butt looks kind of big.”
Let me paint a picture: I was, am, close to 5’9″ (not quite), and weighed 128-132lbs. I don’t remember what size I wore, but probably around an 8/10. My figure was not boyish, but I was pretty thin.
This sent my fragile self-esteem into a tailspin: I went on the Scarsdale Diet, and went down to 117lbs.
Now, the boys in the class shocked me–this is definitely a generational/cultural perspective: they said that my boyfriend meant it as a compliment. I said, “Oh no–he most definitely did not.” When I was in high school telling a girl she had a big caboose was definitely not ‘junk in the trunk I like big butts and I cannot lie’ kind of thing.
Now Happy Rainbow said the comment (and I am paraphrasing because I’m too lazy to look up the exact quote), that even in kindergarten girls are more concerned with being cute than smart. I would caution Happy that any label can lead to a fixed mind set. No girl wants to be the “Velma” if she can be “Daphne.” I was kind of hoping we could be both in our brave new world. The Velma would be considered attractive, too, and Daphne’s IQ would be raised. (Huh – no one ever worries about Shaggy or Fred, do they?)
Girls (and women) do not hear the same frequencies boys/men do. Let me explain. I proceeded to tell the boys in the class to be very, very careful in their comments to girls. If they want to be a gentleman and tell a girl she looks nice, say, “you look nice today.” Do not comment on particular body parts, shapes, etc. Some of the more, um, blunt boys said “what if we mean it in a nice way?” I could promise them, guarantee them, that it is never nice. And many of the girls quietly agreed. Their voices were muffled. But I looked them in the eye and told them that no boy’s comment is worth one’s self-worth.
My favorite uncle, who is wonderful, but complicated, said once that it was a shame that my grandfather wasn’t still alive because he kept everyone from getting fat with his comments and remarks. But I also remember my grandfather as being a gentleman, too. But my uncle is right – though I am back on track, if my grandfather had seen me in recent years there would have been tears. He would not have commented on my degrees, successes, triumphs– he would have commented on my weight. He’s not even on this astral plane and the inner dialogue is resonating.
Those sorts of hurtful side comments are lingering, poisonous dialogue in one’s head. Consider the hundreds of messages we are sending to both girls and boys about how their worth is measured.
So, little girls, big girls, and all in between, and to the boys who are their friends: be kind to each other.
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.
I can’t speak another language. (Sometimes I wonder at my adroitness with English.)
Currently, I have a two students who are my teaching assistants during my planning time. Though this is not a full pretense, there is a subtext of who’s assisting whom. And once again, I am the benefactor.
The one student was sharing with me that she loves movies. I challenged her to find movies that were off the beaten path, movies that may have been foreign language award winners, or musicals, etc., from the past. Long winding road – she discovered the trailer, all on her own, for Pan’s Labryinth. (No, she did not watch this, just the trailer; the movie is rated R).
Now, during our conversation, she tells me my Spanish is not so bad. (Is she joking? No, she’s being kind.) She had to coach me for five minutes on pronouncing La Llorana correctly; however, my self-consciousness is debilitating.
As she’s looking at the trailer, and becoming completely enchanted in the potentiality of the story, she asks, “Why is his skin so soggy?”
Soggy? What a great word.
My recommendation to her: ask her mother if it’s okay to rent it, watch it together, and enjoy the scary, sad magic. In any language.
From the episode, Contents Unknown, the last act relates the story of a man who, because he got a horrible illness and some bad medicine, he lost his memory.
Excerpt:
Act Three. The Answer To The Riddle Is Me.
On October 13, 2002, David MacLean woke up in India with no memory of who he was or how he got there. He had no choice but to let the people who recognized him—and even strangers—fill in his identity. David co-directs the Poison Pen Reading Series in Houston. He is working on a book about the experience of losing his memory. (20 minutes)
We are all writing the story of our lives as we live it. We edit memories, revise the past, crop and dodge those areas that are too stark and painful. I look in the mirror now and through my mind’s eyes expect someone different – but there I am. Now.
The holidays are past for this season. Ground-hog’s Day doesn’t count, but oh, is its timing perfect. Collectively, seasonally, we must feel this repeatable urge for diminished shadows and spring…spring…spring…something to jump out, be brave, and stay.
And with groundhogs, and their repeatable patterns, I have this question popping up and finding its shadow:
My current creative burning question is: How do writers write? How do they create narratives that are not them? This omniscient, omnipotent ego must be essential for writers to bravely spring characters and narratives that are independent and separate: break them free from their own internal dialogue, narratives, relationships, etc. Is this what actors and actress do when they are in character? Is this why they sometimes (!) have trouble maintaining personal relationships, or do they feel they always have to be “on?”
It is this: writing independently of one’s own ego takes maturity and responsibility. And more importantly: No Apologies.
Adolescent students are often shocked at the epiphany that most writers are NOT their characters in disguise; this is probably due to the fact that students are in the flux of creating their personas, and cannot imagine that a writer would not BE the character(s) they are creating.
This is not to say that writers don’t genuinly love the characters they create. They have a relationship with them, and explore this third life. If you ever doubt that there are other dimensions and vortexes out there, spend some time developing a character whose life story is far different from your own experiences. You will fall down a groundhog hole.
