Category: New News

WIHWT: Where can I get one of those?

“This,” said Galaad, “is the sword of Balmung, forged by Wayland Smith in the dawn times. Its twin is Flamberge. Who wears it is unconquerable in war, and invincible in battle. Who wears it is incapable of a cowardly act or an ignoble one. Set in its pommel is the sardonyx Bircone, which protects its possessor from poison slipped in wine or ale, and from the treachery of friends.”

“Chivalry” by Neil Gaiman

Writers Reading Writing Week.

No, I do not have hero-worship of Neil Gaiman. (Liar.)

Ever have one of those units of study that just globs along in the back of your mind? Well, after reading aloud this week* this thought inspired me: Why not create a mini-unit of writers reading their reading? I am constantly stressing to my students that writing is talking: and they can all do that. We are just beginning to really dig into the writer’s workshop protocols. I was asked two days’ ago what “writer’s workshop” model I use – I didn’t have a prescribed answer. I use the one from the Puget Sound Writing Project, part of the National Writing Project. It’s designed to create, first and foremost, a safe place for writers. I am so comfortable with it, I supposed, because of my fine art’s background. Throwing a painting in progress or sketch up on the wall for your peers to see is risky: I developed my diplomatic critiquing style from these days.

So: I need to throw this idea up on the wall and see if it sticks: Each day for two weeks (yes, there’s an assembly on Friday, earthquake drill, [not taken lightly – we do live in a dangerous geographical area] I will continue to read out loud, and have students listen to other writers reading out loud. We will continue to work on annotating text, and the text will be in conjunction with author’s voices. How would you approach this? Would you have them read the text cold, as a pre-assessment of comprehension, and check for their understanding after they hear the writer? I’m thinking Neil Gaiman reading Instructions would be especially good. (Wonder if I can find a version of him reading Chivalry, one of my favorite short stories? Or should I just put on black T-shirt and speak in a British accent?)

Ultimately, I want them to find their own voices. And since that is the big questions: “What are you trying to say, in your own words?”, they will write and then — speak.

Not quite sure what that rubric should matrix*, though.

What we say and feel doesn’t always fit in a box.

*Comments from students the past few weeks: This class is easy, it’s fun, do we have to go to our next class? I’m not trying to cause divisiveness; I just love reading and writing–dang, I love my job.

*Did I just make matrix into a verb? I am so confused.

WIHWT: What prompted this?


Treated you like a rusty blade
A throwaway from an open grave
Cut you loose from a chain gang
And let you go
And on the day you said it’s true
Some love holds, some gets used
Tried to tell you I never knew
It could be so sweet
Who could ever be so cruel,
Blame the devil for the things you do
It’s such a selfish way to lose
The way you lose these wasted blues
These wasted blues
Tell me that it’s nobody’s fault
Nobody’s fault
But my own
That it’s nobody’s fault
Nobody’s fault
But my own
When the moon is a counterfeit
Better find the one that fits
Better find the one that lights
The way for you
When the road is full of nails,
Garbage pails and darkened jails
And their tongues
Are full of heartless tales
That drain on you
Who would ever notice you
You fade into a shaded room
It’s such a selfish way to lose
The way you lose these wasted blues
These wasted blues
Tell me that it’s nobody’s fault

Nobody’s fault But my own
Tell me that it’s nobody’s fault
Nobody’s fault
But my own tell me that it’s nobody’s fault
Nobody’s fault
But my own tell me that it’s nobody’s fault
Nobody’s fault
But my own
Tell me that it’s nobody’s fault
Nobody’s fault
But my own
Tell me that it’s nobody’s fault
Nobody’s fault

Nobody’s Fault But My Own: Campbell/Beck

WIHWT: Tough read-alouds

“I wanted to run faster than the speed of sound, but nobody, no matter how much pain they’re in, can run that fast. So I heard the boom of my father’s rifle when he shot my best friend.

A bullet only costs about two cents, and anybody can afford that.”

From: The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie.

Not sure I can read that chapter aloud again.

http://www.nea.org/readacross

Por favor, empiesa a lear

I have said it once, I’ll say it again: I am at a distinct disadvantage being mono-lingual. Five or six years of French in high school and college barely left me with “Ou est la biblioteque?”

I love reminding my Spanish-speaking students that I am lost: asking a student today how do you say “Please read” in Spanish had them rolling on the floor laughing because I could not roll my R’s at the end of ‘lear’ as fluently as they (as fluently? Who am I kidding? More like, I think I just called your grandmother a donkey by mistake!)

With a bit more practice and patience I got it, and they were so proud of my success and their teaching skills. Just a reminder that sometimes showing how we (adults/teachers) make mistakes and take risks is so critical to building trust: and you know what? Once I said it well, they were justifiably proud. Gracias, estudiantes.

Postscript: http://radiolingua.com/shows/spanish/coffee-break-spanish/


WIHWT: Something to sing along to

Blackbird

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

 
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
all your life
you were only waiting for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Lennon/McCartney

Sacrilege.

I hesitate on confessing this next post: let the stone-throwing and those-without-sin meeting commence now.

The past few years, (and really few–I’ve only been teaching for a short time) I’ve enjoyed the role of Curriculum Leader. Some call it Department Head. This job has never been defined for me per se; no rubric or framework from the district. The process involves a lengthy application, the willingness to do it, and a small stipend. I have carved out my own path by creating curriculum, running and organizing the Language Arts meetings, filing meeting minutes, gathering resources, sharing and collaborating on all sorts of creative solutions to help our students grow and think. I work with amazing colleagues–smart, funny, and who “get me.” One colleague suggested that my room and manner of teaching was like being in an almost-scary part of a Tim Burton movie. My colleagues know my moods and understand when there is a call-to-arms I am ready to fight for and with them on our students’ behalves. And though this measurement is proven to be somewhat hollow, up until last year we demonstrated great growth in the standardized testing of our students. Last year’s, and perhaps this year’s, story of data unfortunately may be different, but that is a post for another time.

(Get to it, Kelly – what did you do?)

Of all the lofty, ambitious goals I have challenged, and succeeded, as Curriculum Leader, my one nemesis, THE BOOK ROOM, continues to thwart me. The BOOK ROOM is, well, full of books. We adopted a new literacy curriculum (I proudly served on that committee), and have worked closely with the district on choosing more books, organizing, maintaining, etc. I have requested a bar coding system, but no go. I have asked that the books be part of the library collection. No. We have tubs of novels for units (which I helped create, including the Journey of the Hero, and the Conflict/Pacific Northwest unit), old literacy books, book sets, etc. This storage room also houses ASB merchandise. During one of the transitions of schools, somehow boxes of very, very old paperbacks were sent to us. This was probably three years ago. I sorted them, took out ones that I thought were still relevant, in good condition, offered them up to anyone who would take them, asked, repeatedly, if anyone wanted them. I had one taker.

The BOOK ROOM still needs to be cleaned out. In a pique of frustration, I went in there yesterday morning to discover the same shopping cart full of the paperbacks no one claimed. Enough. I am overwhelmed as it is, and it was time to clean house. Looking over one more time, made the (impulsive) decision to recycle them (there were about 40 misc junk paperbacks).

Let the flogging begin.

Someone saw them, and sent out notices that there were books in the recycling can. Flurries of emails and face-to-face communication later, many of these books were rescued, stoically, by other teachers, I am hanging my head in deep shame, and we are moving on. Should I have lugged the boxes out to my truck to take to Goodwill? Probably. I had even toyed with the idea of using them for hand-made book projects, but they weren’t fit for even that. (I am an artist first and foremost, and am a pretty good judge of materials.)

I’m not sure why it took my drastic, impulsive act of clearing the decks to get everyone’s attention. Those boxes have been offered up many times, and were in the BOOK ROOM for years. I’m on my eighth or eightieth time to reorganize and catalog that room. (And for the record, it is like a dungeon in there: no iron maidens or shackles, but as stuffy and gritty as a small storage room can get.) I’m feeling a bit betrayed, too, I must admit, kind of little-red-hen-ish. I asked people if they wanted to help bake the bread, yet until I threw the moldy bread out….

In any case, I cherish books, and have every book I have ever owned. I have spent over $4500 on my own classroom library. Why a box of old paperbacks has me spinning, well, I think I just need to let this one go. Next time I’ll put deadlines on emails and action items. But perhaps my colleagues will also see that I have a “clear the deck” mindset too, and take me at my word.

Comments? Insults? Eye rolling?

Be my guest.

Theme song for this post: All My Life by the Foo Fighters:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQ04WbgI9rg