A Case for Reading…

TL:DR teacher friends, if you want to discuss how to get inspired again, I’m here for us all.

This afternoon, I am struggling not to fall into cynicism, and I think I’ve found an answer for myself, at least.

It’s not like we teachers haven’t been sounding the alarm for years: trauma, depression, COVID, misinformation, disinformation, and now the frightening political future that was planted decades ago is now reaching its climatic destiny, and its poison apple fruit is ready for picking. (Well, climatic in the sense of this is our generation’s boss fight, and we’ll either go down in history as just another democracy who caved to fascism or we will get it together.)

Here is where some of my hope lives, the well I’m drawing from: I’m a pretty good teacher.

I’m creative, resourceful, and care about students.

It’s been interesting to see how this care and concern now includes parents who believe, with their whole minds and hearts, the lies and disinformation: I am concerned about these students, and also there is nothing I can directly do. If some students, a small minority, but they exist, even get a whiff that I am sharing my personal political views they will go to their parents.

This is where we are now.

And the best advice when one is lost in the woods, or in this case, my own entanglement with events, is to stay put. And staying put means to look over the metaphorical map, and remember what steps worked in the past:

  • Creative writing assignments: use RAFTS
  • “Dogfooding” the lesson: anything you create or try for students, do it with them. Over winter break, I wrote an essay on To Kill A Mockingbird, kind of hated the process, so I came up with another prompt that is related but much more engaging.
  • Read and write: notice how it feels, and share with students. I’ve shared that reading has been a struggle for me during times of grief, stress, and distractions, and how I’ve gotten out of my slumps. The reading lesson above is what I created for both my American Lit Juniors and will share with the ELA 9th freshmen.

Angela Stockman recently posted this — she is brilliant. Ask students to document and create their own learning journeys.

Book Links:

Give Me Some Truth: https://a.co/d/9ZO9MPp

Stamped: https://a.co/d/74lLgtU

2023 Summer Series of Saves: making the best

I am honored to be virtual friends with Angela Stockman — there are a few I’ve met along the way I truly consider kindred spirits, and she is right up there. Her vision is clear and enchanting to me: I see it, and how it can be incorporated into instructional moments. It’s my goal this summer to figure out how to bring these practices, and many of my past magical practices, back to my classroom. I mean, for goodness sake: look at this one!

Words are elusive this morning; not sure why. Perhaps it is the constant sawing, hammering, and shouts across rooftops from the construction of million-dollar homes across the street from us, interrupting any flow or traction. (And I am grateful for the skilled workers who are here, and not working in the exhausting, hostile heat of states like Texas or Florida.)

What I’m trying to say is complicated: I am an artist from the beginning (one of my favorite memories of my dad is him buying me art supplies when I was about four). As an artist, I see and do teaching a little differently, and I thought I was an oddball. But there are other creative educators out there who understand that content areas are not bound by imaginary, limiting constraints. I’ve been working on my own teaching/writing/art book for about four years; “working on” is kind of a lie– thinking about, trying, struggling, procrastinating, and sabotaging myself is more accurate. So, this blog serves as my scrapbook.

One of the insights/narratives I share with students is how to start writing: when I was getting my BFA, one of the best and most effective ways to get over blank-canvas fear was to mix up a batch of black paint with solvents and wash the freshly gessoed canvas. Just make a mark. No fear. Get started. And the benefit of the dark wash on the canvas is all colors, layers, and light become richer, more interesting, and

An artist my husband discovered is Jessica Brill: we love her simple and powerful lines, subject matter, and color. Her work evokes David Hockney and Edward Hopper, and yet it’s all her own. An artist for GenXers like us. Poolside discouragement, Holiday Inn mediocrity, and an overwhelming sense of loneliness and isolation. And maybe she captures what I feel as a teacher sometimes: that those connections I long for are forever out of reach. I will never be the martyred ELA teacher spending hours with my red pen grading essays. I learned early on about single-point rubrics, playlists, and the work of the National Writing Project.

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I do, however, spend an inordinate of time creating, writing (this blog), and thinking. Not sure where it’s getting me. (Just a mood I have right now– it’ll pass.)

Oh, wait: I’m here.

Squirrel Guardian, of the House of Procrastination and Random Mischief

A huge shout-out of gratitude to Angela Stockman: read this first:

Ah, the synergy and serendipity of collaboration and conversation.

I’m sitting in my writing shed, something I wanted forever, am very grateful to have, and am still paying off. And the barn-style door does not stay propped open on its own (does anything?). Returning from a walk, I go back to the shed to see what kinds of inspiration can be gleaned from a sunny, anxious depressing, cortisol-filled day. Now, mind you, the garden statuary of the squirrel has a long story, and not sure I’m going to write it right this minute. But I use this statue to prop open the door, and it came to me that this statue is symbolic of a guardian, a talisman, of mine. Quick snapshot, and onto my IG post of the day. Today is the 218/366 (it’s a Leap Year).

And then I thought–whew– wouldn’t this be a good writing prompt idea for my students? I know we all live in different spaces, sometimes sharing an apartment with extended family. But if they could imagine and fantasize about legendary guardians and protectors, what fantasy objects could their “loose parts” help them create?

I’ve often said being an art major informed my teaching. I use writing territories and many low-risk writing strategies. The trick is I’m not going to be ‘there,’ but merely a hologram. Stockman’s Loose Parts reminds me of writing territories but more refined and functional. When I’ve used writing territories in the recent past, some students are confused and don’t grab onto their own stories. The three timeline writing works, but even that can be traumatic. Allow writers to choose from their own writing territories, or collection of loose parts.

It may be wrong or naive of me to hope that the state standardized testing is gone, at least in its current form. The writing has morphed into solely writing to respond. It’s an autopsy of reading, too, and makes little or no connection to the symbiotic act of reading and writing.

Resources:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1BioNwpAcdD9daYPPhx_5OAoEGkq6pRwS/view?usp=sharing