I've loved teaching American Literature this year. It's the first time I've had the class since I was a student teacher, so the material feels completely fresh to me. (It's also dredged up memories of my own high school experience, and the inimitable Dr. Dunn, who ultimately inspired me to take up a career in English teaching.)
My favorite facet of the course is its link to various philosophies. As we march through the history of American letters, we encounter the surge and retreat of various perspectives on life, love, nature, God, and the Universe. It's a long way from the Pequots or the Puritans to the Postmoderns, but, in the grand scheme, it's not so far a journey after all.
If I had to pick a favorite among favorites, I'd go with the Naturalists, with their scientific pessimism and earthy realism. As a junior, I was struck by Stephen Crane's cynicism, and wrote a (terrible) short story in the style of "The Open Boat." The experience changed me. (Probably for the worse.)
And so, as an English teacher, of course I've foisted that activity on my students. To help them--and you--to write a story in the Naturalist style, I have invented a template. Feel free to copy with attribution, and if you make any money on your masterpiece, I get 25%.
The Naturalist Story Template
an [average / poor / desperate / stupid / ugly / cruel ] person
struggles against [disease / poverty / racism / nature / temptation]
in [a desert / a jungle / the Arctic / a forest / the streets / factory / prison]
ultimately [losing / failing / dying / going mad / wasting away]
at the hands of [human cruelty / human indifference / an indifferent universe / inability to understand herself / bad luck]
That's it. Fill in the template, write away, and publish a bestseller.
Oh, and whatever you do, give it a third-person narrator, an ironically tragic (or tragically ironic) ending, and some faintly purple prose. You can't go wrong with purple prose.
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Mar 17, 2014
May 24, 2011
when Wal-Mart called
After school. The phone rings. I answer it, trepidatious.
"Hi, this is [redacted] from Wal-Mart, hoping to talk with you about [redacted]."
Excellent. I am a reference for a former student seeking gainful employment. Shall I expound, at great length, as to [redacted]'s character and accomplishments, fortitude and charisma? Shall I relate a piquant anecdote, recount [redacted]'s classroom odyssey of learning? Possibilities! Ask, dear Wal-Mart, and I shall--
"Do you have any reason to believe that [redacted] poses a violent threat to any other person?"
Uh... No.
"Do you have any reason to believe that [redacted] lacks integrity or honesty?"
No.
"One last thing. Is there any reason you would not recommend [redacted] for a position at Wal-Mart?"
No.
"That's all. Have a nice day."
Click.
"Hi, this is [redacted] from Wal-Mart, hoping to talk with you about [redacted]."
Excellent. I am a reference for a former student seeking gainful employment. Shall I expound, at great length, as to [redacted]'s character and accomplishments, fortitude and charisma? Shall I relate a piquant anecdote, recount [redacted]'s classroom odyssey of learning? Possibilities! Ask, dear Wal-Mart, and I shall--
"Do you have any reason to believe that [redacted] poses a violent threat to any other person?"
Uh... No.
"Do you have any reason to believe that [redacted] lacks integrity or honesty?"
No.
"One last thing. Is there any reason you would not recommend [redacted] for a position at Wal-Mart?"
No.
"That's all. Have a nice day."
Click.
May 4, 2011
Olympia School District faces RIF
This afternoon, the Superintendent of the Olympia School District released a recommended list of budget cuts for the 2011-2012 school year. Thanks to a legislature that's still squabbling over state budget particulars, local school districts have had to draw up worst-case contingency plans. The OSD's proposal assumes a roughly $2.3 million drop in the next fiscal year.
Since the bulk of the District's funds go toward personnel, two of the biggest potential cuts involve increased class sizes, and, concomitantly, lost teaching positions.
Other recommendations include charging students for zero-hour classes, converting all middle school sports into intramurals, delaying social studies textbook purchases, and cutting the reserve from 4.3% down to 3%.
The OSD Board of Directors will take public comments on the budget at several upcoming meetings, beginning with a 6:30 p.m. meeting, May 9th the Knox Building. And if you live in (or teach in) the Olympia School District, you should take this survey, too.
Update:
The RIF communication team has more details:
Added 5/5: The RIF in context.
Since the bulk of the District's funds go toward personnel, two of the biggest potential cuts involve increased class sizes, and, concomitantly, lost teaching positions.
According to the more detailed outline, this means a loss of 8.2 and 7.8 positions, respectively. Add (or subtract?) the nearly 14 positions lost to declining enrollment, and more (of an uncertain number) lost to vaporized federal stimulus money, and the District is looking at losing dozens of teachers--or, in the "best" case, simply not replacing those who leave.
- Increase elementary class size by about 2 per class, at grades 1-5. This is consistent with the new state funding schedule which provides 1 teacher for each 25 students in grades K-3. (OSD continues to subsidize kindergarten class size at about 23 students where the state pays for 1 teacher for each 25 students.)
- Increase secondary class size by 1.3 students from 28.7 students per teacher/section to 30 students per teacher/section. This represents an increase in the average; as is the case today, class sizes will vary depending on content and student interest.
Other recommendations include charging students for zero-hour classes, converting all middle school sports into intramurals, delaying social studies textbook purchases, and cutting the reserve from 4.3% down to 3%.
The OSD Board of Directors will take public comments on the budget at several upcoming meetings, beginning with a 6:30 p.m. meeting, May 9th the Knox Building. And if you live in (or teach in) the Olympia School District, you should take this survey, too.
Update:
The RIF communication team has more details:
We are writing to share difficult news. Although the State Legislature has not completed their budget work, the District is moving forward with its proposed budget and reduced education plan for the 2011-12 school year. This reduced education plan prompts a reduction-in-force (RIF) process that includes, but will be limited to, the 48 least senior certificated employees on our seniority list....No mention yet in The Olympian.
There are important considerations to keep in mind in this process. Although the employees who fall within the 1-48 seniority rank will receive RIF notices, the actual number of positions the District will eventually reduce will be fewer. Factors that will be taken into consideration to determine the final number of reduced positions include:
* The eventual number of retirements, resignations and leave of absence requests;
* The final state budget which will determine the actual revenue loss for the District;
* Updated projections of District expenditures for the remainder of the school year;
* Enrollment changes; and,
* Decisions made by the School Board.
Added 5/5: The RIF in context.
Apr 27, 2011
The Finland Phenomenon
Near the Arctic Circle, Finland is ice cold. In educational circles, though, Finland is smoking hot, recently lauded by pundits as a model for reform in the United States. How did it get that way?
Harvard's Tony Wagner attempts to answer the question in an hourlong documentary titled The Finland Phenomenon. Weaving together interviews, classroom observations, and provocative factoids, Wagner tries to tease out the complex strands of cultural values, teacher training, and governmental initiatives that have made Finland a global educational vanguard.
In my favorite moments, Wagner sits down with with Finnish students, who are just as gangly, bright-eyed, and emo as their American counterparts, and listens as they share their hopes for the future. He sits in on lectures by accomplished and rookie teachers, and holds court with educational leaders who sound like a lot of people I've been working with lately: realistic and optimistic, theoretically solid and practically focused.
It so happened that I watched the documentary after a day of leading Powerful Teaching and Learning observations in a local school, and I was struck by the similar approaches, both philosophically and pedagogically, between PTL and the Finnish system of teacher preparation. Roughly 10% of the Finnish university students who apply for training programs will make the cut; once they're in, they're entrusted with tenure in a relatively rapid timeframe, and given a large measure of control over their classrooms.
And that's where I think the strength of the Finnish system lies. It's culturally established that teachers are professionals ("knowledge workers," in trendy/clunky edu-jargon) who are academic leaders committed to continuous improvement. The best American reform initiatives-- among which I'd include the National Board for Professional Teaching Standards, the Common Core Standards movement, Powerful Teaching and Learning, Professional Learning Communities, and Teach for America--share that reflective, collaborative focus. They bring teachers together, but their impact is fragmented, at least for now, because none is comprehensive in its adoption or reach.
And none is a cure-all. Any successful educational reform has to change the culture of schools, which, in turn, changes the wider culture of the community. Our policymakers seem addicted to quick fixes and instant results, but in Finland, Wagner reports, the process has taken 25 years.
As Wagner points out, some of Finland's success may be due to its smaller schools and classes, its emphasis on vocational education (and concomitantly low dropout rate), and its curricular flexibility. There's at least one strand missing from Wagner's analysis, though: Finland's income equality. Socioeconomic status is a strong predictor of educational attainment, so, in my estimation, general equality in SES would not only reflect and influence a wider cultural consensus that education is valuable, but its opposite would reflect and influence a divergent value structure in which outcomes are similarly divergent.
For instance, Wagner compares Minnesota to Finland because of its similar population and demographics, noting that the Land of a Thousand Lakes, 17th globally in math, ranks well below Finland in achievement--but without mentioning the vast difference in, say, their Gini coefficients (mid-40s for Minnesota; mid-to-high 20s for Finland). The relationship between income inequality and educational attainment may be a mere correlation, but it's worth investigating.
My complaints about the film's production values are few and minor. A couple shots (especially of Wagner's "talking head" moments) look cheaply lit, while some action shots have annoying digital artifacts. However, for the most part, the film is well-paced, smoothly edited, and deftly scored.
The Finland Phenomenon premiered in D.C. back in April. At a time when education reform is both critical and in critical condition, its thought-provoking observations deserve wide viewing.
Full disclosure: Dittoe Public Relations sent me a free copy of the film for review. If you're interested in something similar, just send me an email.
Harvard's Tony Wagner attempts to answer the question in an hourlong documentary titled The Finland Phenomenon. Weaving together interviews, classroom observations, and provocative factoids, Wagner tries to tease out the complex strands of cultural values, teacher training, and governmental initiatives that have made Finland a global educational vanguard.
In my favorite moments, Wagner sits down with with Finnish students, who are just as gangly, bright-eyed, and emo as their American counterparts, and listens as they share their hopes for the future. He sits in on lectures by accomplished and rookie teachers, and holds court with educational leaders who sound like a lot of people I've been working with lately: realistic and optimistic, theoretically solid and practically focused.
It so happened that I watched the documentary after a day of leading Powerful Teaching and Learning observations in a local school, and I was struck by the similar approaches, both philosophically and pedagogically, between PTL and the Finnish system of teacher preparation. Roughly 10% of the Finnish university students who apply for training programs will make the cut; once they're in, they're entrusted with tenure in a relatively rapid timeframe, and given a large measure of control over their classrooms.
And that's where I think the strength of the Finnish system lies. It's culturally established that teachers are professionals ("knowledge workers," in trendy/clunky edu-jargon) who are academic leaders committed to continuous improvement. The best American reform initiatives-- among which I'd include the National Board for Professional Teaching Standards, the Common Core Standards movement, Powerful Teaching and Learning, Professional Learning Communities, and Teach for America--share that reflective, collaborative focus. They bring teachers together, but their impact is fragmented, at least for now, because none is comprehensive in its adoption or reach.
And none is a cure-all. Any successful educational reform has to change the culture of schools, which, in turn, changes the wider culture of the community. Our policymakers seem addicted to quick fixes and instant results, but in Finland, Wagner reports, the process has taken 25 years.
As Wagner points out, some of Finland's success may be due to its smaller schools and classes, its emphasis on vocational education (and concomitantly low dropout rate), and its curricular flexibility. There's at least one strand missing from Wagner's analysis, though: Finland's income equality. Socioeconomic status is a strong predictor of educational attainment, so, in my estimation, general equality in SES would not only reflect and influence a wider cultural consensus that education is valuable, but its opposite would reflect and influence a divergent value structure in which outcomes are similarly divergent.
For instance, Wagner compares Minnesota to Finland because of its similar population and demographics, noting that the Land of a Thousand Lakes, 17th globally in math, ranks well below Finland in achievement--but without mentioning the vast difference in, say, their Gini coefficients (mid-40s for Minnesota; mid-to-high 20s for Finland). The relationship between income inequality and educational attainment may be a mere correlation, but it's worth investigating.
My complaints about the film's production values are few and minor. A couple shots (especially of Wagner's "talking head" moments) look cheaply lit, while some action shots have annoying digital artifacts. However, for the most part, the film is well-paced, smoothly edited, and deftly scored.
The Finland Phenomenon premiered in D.C. back in April. At a time when education reform is both critical and in critical condition, its thought-provoking observations deserve wide viewing.
Full disclosure: Dittoe Public Relations sent me a free copy of the film for review. If you're interested in something similar, just send me an email.
Apr 16, 2011
Emily Lockhart comes to CHS
Northwest author Emily Lockhart came to Capital Friday afternoon, sharing her experiences with six English classes. In a presentation that was relatable, self-deprecating, and honest, Lockhart spoke about her life as a student and as a writer--and explained how the two were intertwined. She grew up in Seattle, and first attended a "granola" and "bohemian" prep school; as she put it, "We all had to promise to never buy a car."
A loner, the sort of person others avoid in the cafeteria, Lockhart decided to transfer to Lakeside School, where she was able to reinvent herself in a surprising fashion:
Like a lot of fiction writers, Lockhart took time to get noticed. Her first attempt at publish non-fiction was rejected 70 times; her first success, a children's book, was rejected 30 times--and then, when published, "it was a lovely experience, but nobody read it." She wrote five unnoticed novels before The Boyfriend List finally caught readers' attention. Now, she's published a book a year for the last eight years. In her words, "It's not an easy way to get rich, but you can make a living."
You could sense Lockhart's palpable enthusiasm for her craft when she talked about the way she develops narrative.
And one last thing: Lockhart pointed out, "I'm on Twitter, you can come follow me." (She's @elockhart.)
A loner, the sort of person others avoid in the cafeteria, Lockhart decided to transfer to Lakeside School, where she was able to reinvent herself in a surprising fashion:
I didn't change anything about myself--how I looked, how I acted. I just showed up to see what happened. What happened was, I made friends.... I had a totally different life. I saw high school life from somewhere near the top, and somewhere near the bottom.... that's why I keep writing about it.As Lockhart explained, unlike many places in the adult world, high school throws together people of every conceivable disposition and circumstance, with no real option for escape. The conflict that results is what interests her, and her young adult books are full of italicized, capital-D Drama.
Like a lot of fiction writers, Lockhart took time to get noticed. Her first attempt at publish non-fiction was rejected 70 times; her first success, a children's book, was rejected 30 times--and then, when published, "it was a lovely experience, but nobody read it." She wrote five unnoticed novels before The Boyfriend List finally caught readers' attention. Now, she's published a book a year for the last eight years. In her words, "It's not an easy way to get rich, but you can make a living."
You could sense Lockhart's palpable enthusiasm for her craft when she talked about the way she develops narrative.
You become a little bit fond of the character. I gave Ruby traits that I like--some of them are mine. I liked Ruby. Once you create a character that you like, as a fiction writer, what you have to do is torture them. If you have a story about a happy person with a good life, and they continue to be a happy person with a good life, you don't have a story, you have a description. Your job as a writer is to ask, "What's the worst thing that could happen?"Some of Lockhart's best advice concerns her writerly motivation.
I don't feel like writing a lot of the time. I make myself do it. I write junk... I set a goal. I'm going to write 500 words, and then I can have a chocolate chip cookie.... Some day it's really fun and the best job ever. My writing teacher [in her university program] thought I sucked. But I'm the only one from the class who became a published writer. Why? Because my books are finished.Lockhart's down-to-earth persona and frank advice seemed to resonate with the students in her audience. Even though YA Teen Drama isn't really my thing, I'm going to check out a couple of her books, and recommend her work to my students.
And one last thing: Lockhart pointed out, "I'm on Twitter, you can come follow me." (She's @elockhart.)
Mar 27, 2011
at the Washington Mock Trial state championship
At the prompting of an attorney friend, I spent a good part of Saturday afternoon observing the YMCA Mock Trial state championship at the Thurston County Courthouse. I sat in Courtroom One, which I remembered fondly from my drug trial--by which I mean, the time I was called in for jury duty, but, as so often happens, a plea bargain cut things short and I never got my chance to pay my civic dues.
Someone who blundered into the room would've figured they were interrupting a real trial. Students were competent attorneys, fielding motions and objections, making speeches, and handling incisive questions from Snohomish County Judge Bruce Weiss. Witnesses put on a great show, too, whether as the unctuous colleague of the defendant, the punctilious crime scene investigator, or the nervous garbage truck driver. Teams had been preparing since October, and it showed.
The fictional case, written by Judge William Downing, was all too timely: a police officer on trial for 2nd-degree murder, having shot a "person of interest" in an arson investigation. The case featured dark alleys, ambiguous turns of events, conflicting testimony, dubious emails, political fallout--all the hallmarks of the nightly news.
With one exception: there must be some sort of rule requiring jokey names in a mock trial. When I was in 7th grade, I tried to prove that Herschel C. Lion was responsible for the murder of a local salmon. Saturday's trial featured a Detective Josephine Viernes ("Joe Friday") and medical examiner "Dr. Kildare." (Generation gap, anyone?)
Apparently I lucked into one of the best rounds ever, at least according to Judge Weiss, who had effusive praise for the young advocates, saying that they "did better than a lot of attorneys who appear before me as a part of their job." I was also quite impressed by what I saw, which I think was my friend's intent. Is Capital going to be able to field a Mock Trial team? I don't know. It requires a lot of training and prep work, and I'm already a stretched-thin debate coach. But it's certainly worth pursuing.
Someone who blundered into the room would've figured they were interrupting a real trial. Students were competent attorneys, fielding motions and objections, making speeches, and handling incisive questions from Snohomish County Judge Bruce Weiss. Witnesses put on a great show, too, whether as the unctuous colleague of the defendant, the punctilious crime scene investigator, or the nervous garbage truck driver. Teams had been preparing since October, and it showed.
The fictional case, written by Judge William Downing, was all too timely: a police officer on trial for 2nd-degree murder, having shot a "person of interest" in an arson investigation. The case featured dark alleys, ambiguous turns of events, conflicting testimony, dubious emails, political fallout--all the hallmarks of the nightly news.
With one exception: there must be some sort of rule requiring jokey names in a mock trial. When I was in 7th grade, I tried to prove that Herschel C. Lion was responsible for the murder of a local salmon. Saturday's trial featured a Detective Josephine Viernes ("Joe Friday") and medical examiner "Dr. Kildare." (Generation gap, anyone?)
Apparently I lucked into one of the best rounds ever, at least according to Judge Weiss, who had effusive praise for the young advocates, saying that they "did better than a lot of attorneys who appear before me as a part of their job." I was also quite impressed by what I saw, which I think was my friend's intent. Is Capital going to be able to field a Mock Trial team? I don't know. It requires a lot of training and prep work, and I'm already a stretched-thin debate coach. But it's certainly worth pursuing.
Mar 21, 2011
don't fear the radioactive reaper
Yes I did.
And I'd do it again.
Mar 18, 2011
why you should learn big words
Why is your teacher encouraging, exhorting, or even nagging you to learn roots, to study vocab, and to read with an eye and ear for language?
The reasons are manifold. Augment your vocabulary...
To become a better, more engaging writer.
To better comprehend your reading.
To confuse people.
To connect subjects (math --> English --> science).
To define unknown words more easily.
To express yourself more effectively or accurately.
To feel more confident with little words.
To feel sophisticated.
To gain access to power.
To gain knowledge--to not be clueless.
To get good grades.
To get out of a bad situation.
To have deeper, more intelligent conversations.
To have fun.
To have options when choosing a word.
To impress a date.
To know what you're being accused of or charged with.
To know your rights.
To land a better job.
To learn how to say exactly--precisely--what you mean.
To learn the history of language and culture.
To make money.
To master the English language.
To not be afraid of things you don't understand.
To place more emphasis on other words.
To protect yourself from scams or risks.
To read between the lines.
To read more expressively.
To sound intelligent.
To sound professional.
To sound smart.
To succeed in a future career.
To understand difficult subjects.
To understand more knowledgeable people.
To understand ourselves and others.
To understand politics.
And, most important:
To win at Stump Mr. Anderson.
The reasons are manifold. Augment your vocabulary...
To become a better, more engaging writer.
To better comprehend your reading.
To confuse people.
To connect subjects (math --> English --> science).
To define unknown words more easily.
To express yourself more effectively or accurately.
To feel more confident with little words.
To feel sophisticated.
To gain access to power.
To gain knowledge--to not be clueless.
To get good grades.
To get out of a bad situation.
To have deeper, more intelligent conversations.
To have fun.
To have options when choosing a word.
To impress a date.
To know what you're being accused of or charged with.
To know your rights.
To land a better job.
To learn how to say exactly--precisely--what you mean.
To learn the history of language and culture.
To make money.
To master the English language.
To not be afraid of things you don't understand.
To place more emphasis on other words.
To protect yourself from scams or risks.
To read between the lines.
To read more expressively.
To sound intelligent.
To sound professional.
To sound smart.
To succeed in a future career.
To understand difficult subjects.
To understand more knowledgeable people.
To understand ourselves and others.
To understand politics.
And, most important:
To win at Stump Mr. Anderson.
Mar 14, 2011
why are left-handed people evil?
I started class today by asking, "Why are left-handed people evil?"
It's a loaded question, but it has a purpose: to surprise students into thinking about etymology. In this case, I gave a quick lecture on the history of cultural bias against lefties contained in the word "sinister." (The Wikipedia entry on the linguistic history of left-handedness is a great place to start, although I'm surprised that "gauche" doesn't get a mention. You see, left-handers are also klutzes.)
I asked my 9th grade class to theorize an answer in their journals. The gist of my favorite response: as they write in pencil, lefties smear lead on their skin, and the lead leaches through the epidermis and, eventually, winds its way into the brain. The results speak for themselves.
Oh, and--of course--the lone lefty in my 3rd period class was born on the Ides of March.
Note to the clueless or the scold: graphite isn't plumbum, and southpaws aren't evil.
It's a loaded question, but it has a purpose: to surprise students into thinking about etymology. In this case, I gave a quick lecture on the history of cultural bias against lefties contained in the word "sinister." (The Wikipedia entry on the linguistic history of left-handedness is a great place to start, although I'm surprised that "gauche" doesn't get a mention. You see, left-handers are also klutzes.)
I asked my 9th grade class to theorize an answer in their journals. The gist of my favorite response: as they write in pencil, lefties smear lead on their skin, and the lead leaches through the epidermis and, eventually, winds its way into the brain. The results speak for themselves.
Oh, and--of course--the lone lefty in my 3rd period class was born on the Ides of March.
Note to the clueless or the scold: graphite isn't plumbum, and southpaws aren't evil.
Mar 12, 2011
the suspect sat near the front
As a teacher, I've seen students of nearly every stripe, but I can say with some confidence that I've never had a suspected ax murderer in the mix.
Ellen Laird's account compels without sensationalizing. Read it.
[via ALDaily]
Ellen Laird's account compels without sensationalizing. Read it.
[via ALDaily]
Feb 23, 2011
snowstradamus
Snow day good: breakfast anytime.
Snow day bad: the McDonald's parking lot is a skating rink. As much as I love McGriddles, I'm not risking life and limb. (Limb, anyway. I'm sure the saturated fat and syrup-baked crust is killing me softly.)
Snow day good: time to catch up on grading and planning and blogging.
Snow day bad: no Powerful Teaching and Learning session at LP Brown. Sub plans written in vain.
Snow day good: no need to dress up.
Snow day bad: can't show off a brand new tacky tie.
Snow day good: Netflix Instant has Arrested Development in hi def.
Snow day bad: Netflix Instant has Arrested Development in hi def.
And yeah, I'm calling it: tomorrow will be a snow day.
Update: Two-hour late start. Yes, you may thank me for this jinx when we don't have to spend an extra school day in late June.
Update Update: and then, at 7:47, the District reversed itself and canceled school. I wasn't surprised, given that I had already driven across town, including a harrying trek up the Yashiro Bridge, past the poor guy who had spun out and was now calmly smoking a stogie while awaiting help, and up the hill, thankful for front-wheel drive and traction control, and cursing myself for braving the snow and leaving earlier than I should've.
Also, for the reverse jinx: You're welcome.
Snow day bad: the McDonald's parking lot is a skating rink. As much as I love McGriddles, I'm not risking life and limb. (Limb, anyway. I'm sure the saturated fat and syrup-baked crust is killing me softly.)
Snow day good: time to catch up on grading and planning and blogging.
Snow day bad: no Powerful Teaching and Learning session at LP Brown. Sub plans written in vain.
Snow day good: no need to dress up.
Snow day bad: can't show off a brand new tacky tie.
Snow day good: Netflix Instant has Arrested Development in hi def.
Snow day bad: Netflix Instant has Arrested Development in hi def.
And yeah, I'm calling it: tomorrow will be a snow day.
Update: Two-hour late start. Yes, you may thank me for this jinx when we don't have to spend an extra school day in late June.
Update Update: and then, at 7:47, the District reversed itself and canceled school. I wasn't surprised, given that I had already driven across town, including a harrying trek up the Yashiro Bridge, past the poor guy who had spun out and was now calmly smoking a stogie while awaiting help, and up the hill, thankful for front-wheel drive and traction control, and cursing myself for braving the snow and leaving earlier than I should've.
Also, for the reverse jinx: You're welcome.
Feb 2, 2011
Wikipedia is the greatest thing ever
I totally had students do this.
I had seen the Wikipedia list of misconceptions floating around Twitter, and figured it would be an interesting exercise for my reading classes. We had previously investigated other sites' discussion pages in an activity I call "Wikipedia Behind the Scenes," and this seemed like a logical next step.
I made a preassessment, a true/false "quiz" with 12 misconceptions I thought my students might know. ("T/F: Bats are blind.") They took the quiz, we shared the results ("show of hands... how many thought #1 was true?"), and then I sent them into the computer lab to find out which of the answers were correct. (I was a little mean; all the answers were false.)
After a few minutes, in dismay and excitement, they brought back their findings. We talked about the sources of misinformation--friends, parents, teachers--and tried to figure out how wrong things get to be "common knowledge." I showed them the list, and we looked at the "discussion" page to see the disagreements over what ought to be listed. (Consider this a vote to keep it.)
In sum: Wikipedia is a marvelous teaching tool, and any educator who disagrees is a nincompoop.
I had seen the Wikipedia list of misconceptions floating around Twitter, and figured it would be an interesting exercise for my reading classes. We had previously investigated other sites' discussion pages in an activity I call "Wikipedia Behind the Scenes," and this seemed like a logical next step.
I made a preassessment, a true/false "quiz" with 12 misconceptions I thought my students might know. ("T/F: Bats are blind.") They took the quiz, we shared the results ("show of hands... how many thought #1 was true?"), and then I sent them into the computer lab to find out which of the answers were correct. (I was a little mean; all the answers were false.)
After a few minutes, in dismay and excitement, they brought back their findings. We talked about the sources of misinformation--friends, parents, teachers--and tried to figure out how wrong things get to be "common knowledge." I showed them the list, and we looked at the "discussion" page to see the disagreements over what ought to be listed. (Consider this a vote to keep it.)
In sum: Wikipedia is a marvelous teaching tool, and any educator who disagrees is a nincompoop.
Jan 11, 2011
the threat of snow
One of my favorite perpetual headlines around these parts is "School activities canceled due to threat of snow." Today's variation:
The threat of a snowstorm in the South Sound prompted Saint Martin’s University officials to cancel evening classes at the private college’s Joint Base Lewis McChord campus. For more information about school closures in the region, go to schoolreport.org.Which is to say, not only can snow incapacitate education, but it's also an effective deterrent.
Oct 11, 2010
how to road-test a thesaurus
How do you tell one thesaurus from another? They're all so doggone / darn / gosh-darn / danged similar.
Here's one way, which I invented this morning while teaching.
During a conversation about reading strategies, one of my students suggested the thesaurus as a place to look up unfamiliar words. "That's a good emergency option if you don't have a dictionary," I said. "But thesauruses just can't list as many entry words as a dictionary can. For instance, my guess is that you'll find 'pulchitrudinous' as a synonym for 'beautiful,' but not the other way around."
She seemed a little dubious, so I said to grab a random thesaurus off my pile of random thesauruses, and test my theory.
Of course, the first one she opened had "pulchitrudinous" as its own entry.
I laughed and admitted that I hadn't chosen the best example, but that my reasoning was generally still sound. After class ended, I checked the rest of the thesauruses--big ones, small ones, medium-sized ones, college editions or average Joe versions, even Roget's II. Turns out about half of them had "pulchitrudinous" or "pulchitrude" as its own entry. (I was doubly disappointed that The Superior Person's Book of Words didn't include the term. Perhaps it's not as uncommon as I had hoped.)
So that's when I turned lemonade into an Arnold Palmer, and devised this handy way of picking a good thesaurus. Open it up to P, and if it has "pulchitrudinous" or "pulchitrude" as an entry (usually "Pulchitrudinous: See beautiful"), you're probably / likely / possibly / potentially holding a good one.
Sidebar
Of course, Firefox's automatic spell-checker, which dutifully underlines every perceived orthographical slight, doesn't recognize "pulchitrudinous" or "pulchitrude" as legitimate.
Here's one way, which I invented this morning while teaching.
During a conversation about reading strategies, one of my students suggested the thesaurus as a place to look up unfamiliar words. "That's a good emergency option if you don't have a dictionary," I said. "But thesauruses just can't list as many entry words as a dictionary can. For instance, my guess is that you'll find 'pulchitrudinous' as a synonym for 'beautiful,' but not the other way around."
She seemed a little dubious, so I said to grab a random thesaurus off my pile of random thesauruses, and test my theory.
Of course, the first one she opened had "pulchitrudinous" as its own entry.
I laughed and admitted that I hadn't chosen the best example, but that my reasoning was generally still sound. After class ended, I checked the rest of the thesauruses--big ones, small ones, medium-sized ones, college editions or average Joe versions, even Roget's II. Turns out about half of them had "pulchitrudinous" or "pulchitrude" as its own entry. (I was doubly disappointed that The Superior Person's Book of Words didn't include the term. Perhaps it's not as uncommon as I had hoped.)
So that's when I turned lemonade into an Arnold Palmer, and devised this handy way of picking a good thesaurus. Open it up to P, and if it has "pulchitrudinous" or "pulchitrude" as an entry (usually "Pulchitrudinous: See beautiful"), you're probably / likely / possibly / potentially holding a good one.
Sidebar
Of course, Firefox's automatic spell-checker, which dutifully underlines every perceived orthographical slight, doesn't recognize "pulchitrudinous" or "pulchitrude" as legitimate.
Aug 2, 2010
plagiarism 2.0.1
Jonathan Adler, critiquing a New York Times article on the ostensible rise of plagiarism, writes:
Why does plagiarism matter? In this teacher's perspective, the educational reasons come before the ethical.* In a classroom where assessment is at the core of instruction, and I establish and maintain the expectation that I need to know what you know, then the corollary is that plagiarism defeats that purpose. There simply isn't room for it.
It's doubly important for an English teacher; our focus on "papers" should be on the process, not merely the product. If we have an eye on each draft, especially with amazing digital tools like Google Docs, plagiarism should be nipped in the bud. Nearly all of the (very few) incidents I've seen in the past few years involved students who hadn't turned in their drafts on schedule. For them, plagiarism was a desperation move.
*Regardless of the varying ethics practiced by students--they're not all going to be Kantians, after all--the classroom ethos of purposeful learning must be foundational.
The problem is not that academic standards are too strict for the Internet Age. Rather, it’s that students are not taught that such standards really matter.Or, from this teacher's perspective, students aren't always taught why such standards matter. We stop just short, teaching them the correct citation style, and perhaps even telling them that plagiarism is wrong, and that they'll receive a zero for a first-time offense. But that's only a threat without a reason.
Why does plagiarism matter? In this teacher's perspective, the educational reasons come before the ethical.* In a classroom where assessment is at the core of instruction, and I establish and maintain the expectation that I need to know what you know, then the corollary is that plagiarism defeats that purpose. There simply isn't room for it.
It's doubly important for an English teacher; our focus on "papers" should be on the process, not merely the product. If we have an eye on each draft, especially with amazing digital tools like Google Docs, plagiarism should be nipped in the bud. Nearly all of the (very few) incidents I've seen in the past few years involved students who hadn't turned in their drafts on schedule. For them, plagiarism was a desperation move.
*Regardless of the varying ethics practiced by students--they're not all going to be Kantians, after all--the classroom ethos of purposeful learning must be foundational.
Jul 17, 2010
things I learned in New Mexico
I spent the last five days in Montezuma, New Mexico, attending an IB conference at UWC-USA. In five days of classes, meals, road trips, and bull sessions, I learned a few things.
1. My students are even more competent than I imagine. When it comes to IB rubrics, I tend to be stingy with 5's, and now I know why: I expect a 5 to be like the writing of an accomplished graduate of a top-tier university English program. After eight sessions focusing on English assessment, I realize that a 5 isn't perfection.
2. Moderating my assessment doesn't mean I'm going to change how I teach. Big, big difference.
3. They call New Mexico "The Land of Enchantment" for a reason. The reason involves scorpions, brown bears, skunks, wildflowers, piny woods, sage, rock outcroppings, mosquitoes, and thunderstorms.
4. Teachers dance. I was not mentally (or spiritually?) prepared for that.
5. Every education workshop should start with a two hour bus ride and should be hosted in a building that necessitates having a roommate. Nothing better for socializing--more on this in a bit.
6. I am a natural introvert, although I've figured out how to overcome my extreme discomfort while mingling, or when scanning a cafeteria for an open seat. On the first day I resolved to sit at a new table each day, introduce myself, and then--and this is key, introverts--let the extroverts take over from there. They tend to draw you in to the conversation and draw you out of yourself.
7. People seem to appreciate it when you do the right thing without making a fuss.
8. I can't write an ode on command.
9. I felt most like a true student when learning the art of the cowboy hat in the Popular Dry Goods on Bridge Street in Las Vegas, New Mexico. (The one featured in No Country for Old Men, as the owner, a lifelong local who, sadly, wasn't featured in the film, was happy to share. Under his guidance, I stood where Josh Brolin stood. Not usually a fanboy, but come on, it's the Coen brothers.) The sales assistant, the owner's daughter, provided the lesson, patiently waiting as I dithered over styles and materials and colors. Hope you like the hat, Dad.
10. I didn't get to say this to everyone I met, but: thanks.
1. My students are even more competent than I imagine. When it comes to IB rubrics, I tend to be stingy with 5's, and now I know why: I expect a 5 to be like the writing of an accomplished graduate of a top-tier university English program. After eight sessions focusing on English assessment, I realize that a 5 isn't perfection.
2. Moderating my assessment doesn't mean I'm going to change how I teach. Big, big difference.
3. They call New Mexico "The Land of Enchantment" for a reason. The reason involves scorpions, brown bears, skunks, wildflowers, piny woods, sage, rock outcroppings, mosquitoes, and thunderstorms.
4. Teachers dance. I was not mentally (or spiritually?) prepared for that.
5. Every education workshop should start with a two hour bus ride and should be hosted in a building that necessitates having a roommate. Nothing better for socializing--more on this in a bit.
6. I am a natural introvert, although I've figured out how to overcome my extreme discomfort while mingling, or when scanning a cafeteria for an open seat. On the first day I resolved to sit at a new table each day, introduce myself, and then--and this is key, introverts--let the extroverts take over from there. They tend to draw you in to the conversation and draw you out of yourself.
7. People seem to appreciate it when you do the right thing without making a fuss.
8. I can't write an ode on command.
9. I felt most like a true student when learning the art of the cowboy hat in the Popular Dry Goods on Bridge Street in Las Vegas, New Mexico. (The one featured in No Country for Old Men, as the owner, a lifelong local who, sadly, wasn't featured in the film, was happy to share. Under his guidance, I stood where Josh Brolin stood. Not usually a fanboy, but come on, it's the Coen brothers.) The sales assistant, the owner's daughter, provided the lesson, patiently waiting as I dithered over styles and materials and colors. Hope you like the hat, Dad.
10. I didn't get to say this to everyone I met, but: thanks.
Jun 11, 2010
the beard is dead, long live the beard
 |
| From To Beard, or not to Beard |
It was fun while it lasted--fun for everyone else, at least. Thanks to everyone who gave, and kept giving, and helped the CHS Debate team raise $520. I can promise you, it'll be $520 well spent.
As you can see, shaving off a full beard is a miraculous instant weight loss and age-defying formula. I'm afraid the incredibly coarse hair may have destroyed my clippers, which mowed it down to less than an eighth of an inch before tiring and tagging out. The Gilette Mach 3 Turbo finished the match.
At last, I have my face back.
Jun 6, 2010
making the tacit explicit
When assessing a student's learning, a teacher has to overcome at least two epistemic barriers.
The first is obvious: as teacher, I have to find out what my students have learned. So I assess their knowledge. This is, of course, fraught with pitfalls. Am I asking the right questions? In the right words? Have I provided enough context? Too much?
But then there's the second barrier: students who don't know what they've learned--or haven't learned. Or, even if they know they know it, they can't articulate it.
Though it's what I'm always thinking about, the problem became acute this week in a couple of my reading classes. As a way to provide some context for this article on skills students should "really" have upon graduating high school--which, I will say, led to some fascinating discussions about the value we place on various aspects of education--I asked my students, mostly 9th and 10th graders, what they had learned this year. (In a similar exercise earlier in the year, I asked them to list 100 things they already know. Those were some interesting lists.)
By far, the initial response was an overwhelming "I haven't learned anything."
Several reasons.
The first: general resistance to doing work. This was overcome fairly quickly with a couple leading questions. "What did you learn in this class? In your math class? From your friends? About yourself? Start by making categories on your paper...."
The second: genuine non-learning from students who are uninvolved in the classroom, whether through their own choices, uncontrollable circumstances, poor teaching, or any combination of the above. (I leave it as an exercise to the reader to determine which is most salient.)
The third: genuine inability to articulate what they've learned.
How to overcome this? Metacognition, reflectiveness, self-awareness--whatever you want to call it--can be taught. The key is (at least) twofold. First, making your tacit objectives explicit. Sharing goals and objectives at the start of every lesson. Teaching explicit strategies for comprehension, discussion, cooperation, and more, rather than presuming that students already know the best way.
Second, having students make their tacit knowledge explicit. Asking them to articulate the purpose for today's activities before you even start, to jot down something they've learned at the end of the lesson, to critique the lesson's structure and effectiveness.
Even after eight years of teaching, it's amazing to me how many times I have to revisit this, to dredge up my own tacit knowledge and drag it to the surface.
You know a lot more than you think you know. (And, of course, you also know a lot less.)
The first is obvious: as teacher, I have to find out what my students have learned. So I assess their knowledge. This is, of course, fraught with pitfalls. Am I asking the right questions? In the right words? Have I provided enough context? Too much?
But then there's the second barrier: students who don't know what they've learned--or haven't learned. Or, even if they know they know it, they can't articulate it.
Though it's what I'm always thinking about, the problem became acute this week in a couple of my reading classes. As a way to provide some context for this article on skills students should "really" have upon graduating high school--which, I will say, led to some fascinating discussions about the value we place on various aspects of education--I asked my students, mostly 9th and 10th graders, what they had learned this year. (In a similar exercise earlier in the year, I asked them to list 100 things they already know. Those were some interesting lists.)
By far, the initial response was an overwhelming "I haven't learned anything."
Several reasons.
The first: general resistance to doing work. This was overcome fairly quickly with a couple leading questions. "What did you learn in this class? In your math class? From your friends? About yourself? Start by making categories on your paper...."
The second: genuine non-learning from students who are uninvolved in the classroom, whether through their own choices, uncontrollable circumstances, poor teaching, or any combination of the above. (I leave it as an exercise to the reader to determine which is most salient.)
The third: genuine inability to articulate what they've learned.
How to overcome this? Metacognition, reflectiveness, self-awareness--whatever you want to call it--can be taught. The key is (at least) twofold. First, making your tacit objectives explicit. Sharing goals and objectives at the start of every lesson. Teaching explicit strategies for comprehension, discussion, cooperation, and more, rather than presuming that students already know the best way.
Second, having students make their tacit knowledge explicit. Asking them to articulate the purpose for today's activities before you even start, to jot down something they've learned at the end of the lesson, to critique the lesson's structure and effectiveness.
Even after eight years of teaching, it's amazing to me how many times I have to revisit this, to dredge up my own tacit knowledge and drag it to the surface.
You know a lot more than you think you know. (And, of course, you also know a lot less.)
May 13, 2010
To Beard, or not to Beard
Capital's debate team is holding my beard hostage. If they can raise at least a hundred dollars next week, I can't shave it. Repeat the feat the next week, and I'll continue suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous facial hair. So, if you are a fan of hockey and lumber jacks, or if you love torturing the hirsute, or if you are a fan of CHS Debate, join the fun. Click on the photo, or this link, to watch the beard, and my indignity, progress in time.
Oh, and of course, there's a Facebook page.
I'll keep a running beard diary right here using the label "beardathon." Why? Because blogging is how I cope. With the itching. Which started today.
May 6, 2010
take a tour of your school
A creativity / storytelling / extemporaneous speaking exercise.
Take your class on a tour of your school. The catch: they're the tour guides. Make a circuit around the campus, and let individuals stop the tour when they approach a location where they can tell a story, real or imagined, about its significance or history.
If you want to emphasize spontaneity, give about five minutes to prepare, with a notecard for those who need it. If you want a more polished presentation (as a practice, say, for upcoming speeches), give students a day's notice.
The ground rules:
1. Careful in the hallways.
2. Be nice. Don't rag on a teacher you despise. Don't embarrass friends or strangers.
3. Don't monopolize the time. Keep your story under two minutes.
4. Ham it up.
You'll be surprised what you'll learn about your school--and your students.
Take your class on a tour of your school. The catch: they're the tour guides. Make a circuit around the campus, and let individuals stop the tour when they approach a location where they can tell a story, real or imagined, about its significance or history.
If you want to emphasize spontaneity, give about five minutes to prepare, with a notecard for those who need it. If you want a more polished presentation (as a practice, say, for upcoming speeches), give students a day's notice.
The ground rules:
1. Careful in the hallways.
2. Be nice. Don't rag on a teacher you despise. Don't embarrass friends or strangers.
3. Don't monopolize the time. Keep your story under two minutes.
4. Ham it up.
You'll be surprised what you'll learn about your school--and your students.
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