I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day. ~EB White
Yesterday was EB White's birthday, so I got to thinkin' about one of his most famous books.
My students have a weekly assignment where they analyze their self-selected independent reading to find examples of writers tools, craft and convention. On a day when we were working on figurative language, a student came over to me, book in hand. "I can't find any examples in here," she complained. I hear that pretty often, and I asked for the book so I could look myself. I was pleased to see that it was Charlotte's Web, and certain I could find at least a simile or a metaphor, I skimmed through quickly at first, but then slowed down. She was right-- there were no ready examples of what we sought. Intrigued, I thought about it later, and realized that the prose is purposefully straight-forward and exact-- the vernacular of a farm in Maine.
The writing is far from sterile, however, as generations of readers know well. When I was in second grade, my teacher read Charlotte's Web aloud to us, and I clearly remember the tears rolling down my cheeks and those of my classmates on the afternoon that she read that penultimate chapter, Last Day. Recently, I heard a radio piece about E.B. White's recording of the audio version of the book. According to his producer, they did 17 takes of the final part of that chapter, because White broke down every time he read it. If you haven't revisited Charlotte's Web in a while, at least take a look at that chapter when you have the chance-- there is amazing power in the simple prose and concrete details.
As I was writing this, a tiny spider crawled up and over my arm. She was quick, but I was able to catch her in my hand and carry her outside to set her free. It was the least I could do.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Remembrance of Students Past
Three boys were being raised in a motel room by their mom who was a junkie and who turned tricks to support her habit. The boys were often right there when she conducted her business. Eventually, they were removed from her custody and put in the care of a second or third cousin by marriage.
At our school, we knew the cousin and his family, because all four of their children had come through by the time the two oldest of these boys were enrolled when they were in sixth and eighth grade. That's right, they were 11 and 14, and their little brother was 9 already.
It wasn’t too long before we started to wonder just how things might be going in that home. Even though the family was collecting social security and receiving payment for fostering the boys, they told the school that there would be no holiday gifts for them unless somebody donated something. Not so for their own kids-- they were always well-dressed and in style, even though their cousins often wore the same pair of jeans and dirty t-shirt to school. In addition to other academic issues, the boy who was in my class that year was always sleepy. “My uncle doesn’t care when we go to bed,” he told me. "I can stay up as late as I want."
Things never really turned around for these kids. The next year, one was removed from the home for sexually assaulting another, and eventually all three were taken from the custody of the family, because of physical mistreatment, and placed with separate foster families in another county.
As teachers, we sometimes learn things like this when we're teaching the students involved, or sometimes we find out later, and although such information may give us pieces to a larger puzzle, if we are able to approach each of our students with empathy, facts like these are secondary. I taught two of these boys-- the middle and the youngest-- and yes, it was tough sometimes. Distractable, insubordinate, and therefore disruptive, they presented challenges daily.
Sometimes the greatest gift we can give to kids like this is to like them in spite of all the crap. As annoying as their antics can be, we must try to have the patience to not allow the behaviors to define the person. That's exactly how it was with these guys: I tried to let them know I genuinely liked them no matter what (and trust me, there was a lot of what), and I believe that as a result, they learned in my class.
Walking out of a crowded movie theater this afternoon I was thinking ahead to a busy evening when I realized that someone was calling my name. I turned around and squinted in the direction. After a minute, I recognized my former student, the middle brother. It had been four years since I had seen him, and he was older and heavier, but who isn't? I went back and sat on the bench with him for a few minutes. I had kept up with him as best I could, and I knew of many mistakes that he had made in the time since sixth grade. Even so, he told me he and his brothers were doing "a'ight."
Kids can surprise you with their resilience, but I didn't feel very hopeful as I sat there next to him. Something about his demeanor worried me, but I did feel the warmth of that old affection, and I told him so. Thinking about it later, I wondered if it could possibly still matter, and I really hoped it might, because it was all I had to offer.
At our school, we knew the cousin and his family, because all four of their children had come through by the time the two oldest of these boys were enrolled when they were in sixth and eighth grade. That's right, they were 11 and 14, and their little brother was 9 already.
It wasn’t too long before we started to wonder just how things might be going in that home. Even though the family was collecting social security and receiving payment for fostering the boys, they told the school that there would be no holiday gifts for them unless somebody donated something. Not so for their own kids-- they were always well-dressed and in style, even though their cousins often wore the same pair of jeans and dirty t-shirt to school. In addition to other academic issues, the boy who was in my class that year was always sleepy. “My uncle doesn’t care when we go to bed,” he told me. "I can stay up as late as I want."
Things never really turned around for these kids. The next year, one was removed from the home for sexually assaulting another, and eventually all three were taken from the custody of the family, because of physical mistreatment, and placed with separate foster families in another county.
As teachers, we sometimes learn things like this when we're teaching the students involved, or sometimes we find out later, and although such information may give us pieces to a larger puzzle, if we are able to approach each of our students with empathy, facts like these are secondary. I taught two of these boys-- the middle and the youngest-- and yes, it was tough sometimes. Distractable, insubordinate, and therefore disruptive, they presented challenges daily.
Sometimes the greatest gift we can give to kids like this is to like them in spite of all the crap. As annoying as their antics can be, we must try to have the patience to not allow the behaviors to define the person. That's exactly how it was with these guys: I tried to let them know I genuinely liked them no matter what (and trust me, there was a lot of what), and I believe that as a result, they learned in my class.
Walking out of a crowded movie theater this afternoon I was thinking ahead to a busy evening when I realized that someone was calling my name. I turned around and squinted in the direction. After a minute, I recognized my former student, the middle brother. It had been four years since I had seen him, and he was older and heavier, but who isn't? I went back and sat on the bench with him for a few minutes. I had kept up with him as best I could, and I knew of many mistakes that he had made in the time since sixth grade. Even so, he told me he and his brothers were doing "a'ight."
Kids can surprise you with their resilience, but I didn't feel very hopeful as I sat there next to him. Something about his demeanor worried me, but I did feel the warmth of that old affection, and I told him so. Thinking about it later, I wondered if it could possibly still matter, and I really hoped it might, because it was all I had to offer.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Excuse Me, Would You Like to Click for Me?
Today was the obligatory National Mall trip for out-of-town visitors. I never tire of this activity, folks. The day was a touch hotter and a hair more humid than the four glorious days that preceded it, but it didn't matter: we had an eight-year-old who had never been to Washington D.C. before. Starting with the metro, going on to the Air and Space Museum, walking down past the Washington Monument, enjoying good views of both the White House and Jefferson Memorial, and ending up at the Lincoln Memorial, ours was a very pleasant visit. And we would have kept on going across the Memorial Bridge on to Arlington Cemetery and the Metro stop there, except that Grandma had sore feet, so we hailed a cab to take us back to Pentagon City, where we'd parked. It was all good, and I want to let you know that there are 52 steps up to the Lincoln Memorial, the same as cards in a deck. President Lincoln had a big crowd of people up there with him, but I noticed how courteous they all were, waiting their turn to be photographed with the big guy. As I stood to the side admiring the organic cooperation of this very international crowd, a man approached me, camera extended. "Excuse me, would you like to click for me?" he asked. I certainly did-- in fact I clicked twice, just to be sure.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Me Thinks the Chicken Never had a Chance, M'Lady
With yet another nephew visiting, we have planned some fun things to do this week. The weather here has been unusually glorious for July-- low 80's and very little humidity, courtesy of a big southern dip in the jet stream. Unfortunately, our gain has been others' loss: friends who live or have traveled to the north this summer have reported that their weather has been downright chilly up there. We took advantage of our blue skies yesterday, taking a picnic out to Great Falls National Park. This place is a stand-by for us-- water falls, good climbing boulders, and some pretty easy hiking make it a favorite of all the kids in our lives, and the boys had an excellent time.
Today we set out for Baltimore to spend the afternoon at the National Aquarium and to have dinner at Medieval Times. The boys had a good enough time in both places-- there was a dolphin show, a jelly fish exhibit, sharks and rays, horses, knights, jousting, sword-fighting and a meal eaten entirely with your fingers.
By the time they served us our dinner tonight, I was starving, so as the Green Knight galloped past our cheering section and through the spot-lit arena, I quickly skinned, boned, and devoured the roast chicken quarter that our server had plopped onto my pewter plate in the dark. He was a little taken aback when he came a few minutes later with my potato and spare rib. "Me thinks the chicken never had a chance, M'lady!"
Before the boys leave, we always ask what their favorite part of the trip was. I wonder what their answers will be this time. I don't think they had any more fun today than they did yesterday, or the day before that we spent splashing around at the pool. I know I didn't. There was something a little crass or maybe too commercial about our crowded day that made it unsatisfying to me, and I can't decide if I want the boys to agree with me or not.
Today we set out for Baltimore to spend the afternoon at the National Aquarium and to have dinner at Medieval Times. The boys had a good enough time in both places-- there was a dolphin show, a jelly fish exhibit, sharks and rays, horses, knights, jousting, sword-fighting and a meal eaten entirely with your fingers.
By the time they served us our dinner tonight, I was starving, so as the Green Knight galloped past our cheering section and through the spot-lit arena, I quickly skinned, boned, and devoured the roast chicken quarter that our server had plopped onto my pewter plate in the dark. He was a little taken aback when he came a few minutes later with my potato and spare rib. "Me thinks the chicken never had a chance, M'lady!"
Before the boys leave, we always ask what their favorite part of the trip was. I wonder what their answers will be this time. I don't think they had any more fun today than they did yesterday, or the day before that we spent splashing around at the pool. I know I didn't. There was something a little crass or maybe too commercial about our crowded day that made it unsatisfying to me, and I can't decide if I want the boys to agree with me or not.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
That's Mister Potter to You
Recently, I asked two of my nephews, separately, which was their favorite Harry Potter novel. They both answered Prisoner of Azkaban, and that surprised me a little bit. My favorite is Half-Blood Prince; I think it's because we finally start to get some answers and significant back-story, and also because I have a big soft spot in my heart for Snape-- but they said that they like the character of Sirius Black, and that the story told in this novel was a good one.
Tonight we watched Azkaban, and I looked carefully for more clues as to why it might be the boys' favorite. I love the Marauders Map, and it was even better in the movie than I imagined it myself. I thought they did a great job with the time turner and that section of the narrative where Harry and Hermione go back to the recent past; the scenes were believably created with a minimum of special effects.
Azkaban also has what I consider to be one of the most poignant plot points in the series. When Harry and Sirius are on the lake shore besieged by swarms of dementors, Harry sees someone across the water casting an amazing patronus that saves them both. When he wakes in the hospital wing, he is glad to have survived, but he is elated when he comes to believe that it was his father who rescued him. Later, when he returns to that moment in time from a different perspective, he finds that it wasn't his dad at all, but rather he himself who saves them.
I always feel sorry for the orphan Harry and the loss and disappointment that I am sure he must feel when he realizes that his father didn't come to his rescue. Harry Potter, though, is a thirteen-year-old-boy in this novel, and his reaction is to exult in his own power (after all, the kid just cast one hell of a patronus). So, in that moment, Harry takes a step away from childhood and toward the independence that we expect from adults, and as I watched tonight, I wondered if it is that turn that resonates with young readers.
Tonight we watched Azkaban, and I looked carefully for more clues as to why it might be the boys' favorite. I love the Marauders Map, and it was even better in the movie than I imagined it myself. I thought they did a great job with the time turner and that section of the narrative where Harry and Hermione go back to the recent past; the scenes were believably created with a minimum of special effects.
Azkaban also has what I consider to be one of the most poignant plot points in the series. When Harry and Sirius are on the lake shore besieged by swarms of dementors, Harry sees someone across the water casting an amazing patronus that saves them both. When he wakes in the hospital wing, he is glad to have survived, but he is elated when he comes to believe that it was his father who rescued him. Later, when he returns to that moment in time from a different perspective, he finds that it wasn't his dad at all, but rather he himself who saves them.
I always feel sorry for the orphan Harry and the loss and disappointment that I am sure he must feel when he realizes that his father didn't come to his rescue. Harry Potter, though, is a thirteen-year-old-boy in this novel, and his reaction is to exult in his own power (after all, the kid just cast one hell of a patronus). So, in that moment, Harry takes a step away from childhood and toward the independence that we expect from adults, and as I watched tonight, I wondered if it is that turn that resonates with young readers.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Only Connect
Our school is an International Baccalaureate Middle Years Programme school. One of the things that distinguishes the MYP from the PYP (Primary Years Programme) or the Degree Programme is the organizing principal of the Areas of Interactions: five perspectives or "lenses" that help the students uncover the connections between the disciplines, so that they will learn to see knowledge as an interrelated, coherent whole. The IB MYP AoI are approaches to learning, health and social education, human ingenuity, environment, and community and service.
This afternoon when I picked up Treat and Josh from their photography class, I asked them what they had learned today.
"We learned you can't stare into the eyes of a giant python without blinking," answered Treat, by way of blowing off my genuine interest.
"Did you try looking through your camera lens, Colin Creevy?" I asked with a bit of irritation, at which point Treat, who is a regular reader of this blog, accused me of being obsessed with Harry Potter. "Well," I confessed, "the series is definitely on my mind at the moment, what with the movie marathon and all, and I am good at making connections."
We were stopped at a traffic light on the way to Treat's house and Josh glanced out the window. "How about street lights?" he challenged me. "Connect those to Harry Potter."
Treat and I laughed. "Easy," I said. "In the first book, Dumbledore uses that thing--"
"The deluminator," Treat supplied.
"Yeah, that," I continued, "to put out the street lights on Privet Drive, and then... doesn't Ron get it, or something?"
"Yes," Treat said. "Ron inherits it in the seventh book and it becomes pretty important."
"Yeah," I said. "So there!"
Josh was impressed, and I turned to Treat, who is a graduate of our school and quite well-versed in things IB MYP. "See? Harry Potter could totally be the sixth area of interaction!"
This afternoon when I picked up Treat and Josh from their photography class, I asked them what they had learned today.
"We learned you can't stare into the eyes of a giant python without blinking," answered Treat, by way of blowing off my genuine interest.
"Did you try looking through your camera lens, Colin Creevy?" I asked with a bit of irritation, at which point Treat, who is a regular reader of this blog, accused me of being obsessed with Harry Potter. "Well," I confessed, "the series is definitely on my mind at the moment, what with the movie marathon and all, and I am good at making connections."
We were stopped at a traffic light on the way to Treat's house and Josh glanced out the window. "How about street lights?" he challenged me. "Connect those to Harry Potter."
Treat and I laughed. "Easy," I said. "In the first book, Dumbledore uses that thing--"
"The deluminator," Treat supplied.
"Yeah, that," I continued, "to put out the street lights on Privet Drive, and then... doesn't Ron get it, or something?"
"Yes," Treat said. "Ron inherits it in the seventh book and it becomes pretty important."
"Yeah," I said. "So there!"
Josh was impressed, and I turned to Treat, who is a graduate of our school and quite well-versed in things IB MYP. "See? Harry Potter could totally be the sixth area of interaction!"
Monday, July 6, 2009
For My Own Good
So today we woke up to a power outage. The second thing I noticed, after the blank face of my clock-radio staring at me, was the silence. No ceiling fan, no a/c, no hum from the chorus of heat pumps outside. Fortunately, we woke up in time to get Josh off to his first day of photography class. Also, it was a beautiful morning, and with windows open for a cross-breeze, the house stayed airy and cool. There were lots of power trucks out in the parking lot all morning, and any of my neighbors who paused to inquire about progress, received the same answer: We don't know how it happened. It'll be fixed in about an hour. From my chair by the open window in the living room, I overheard the workman say this three times over the course of 2 1/2 hours. Once I'd read the newspaper and done all the puzzles, I spent the rest of the morning thinking of things I could do with all this quiet time, and then remembering that I couldn't do them because there was no power. I particularly missed my laptop and wifi connection.
When it still wasn't on at noon, we picked Josh and Treat up from class, went out to lunch at a new place, where we ran into 4 friends from school, and then went to the pool for the afternoon. It was a nice day.
One of the things we're doing while Josh is here this time is a Harry Potter film festival. We plan to re-watch the first five movies in order to prepare for the sixth, Half-Blood Prince, which will be released on July 15th. It's silly, but it's fun. I've noticed that my knowledge of magical things (not to mention important plot points of the series) has faded considerably over the last two years since Deathly Hallows was released. I remember things in broad strokes, and it's odd what has stayed with me. It's interesting, too, what resonates now that didn't really register before. When we watched Sorceror's Stone this time, it was the Mirror of Erised. The image of Harry spending hours gazing into the mirror, watching the false reflection of his heart's desire, reminded me a little bit of the time I sit in front of my computer screen on the internet, reading and writing, searching for important information, and checking my messages and comments: I expend a lot of mental and emotional energy maintaining these virtual bonds, and there are times when it's hard to shut down and go out in the real world to do real things.
Sometimes I think if Dumbledore lived here, he might have to take my laptop and move it to a new location. Hey! Maybe that's what happened this morning.
When it still wasn't on at noon, we picked Josh and Treat up from class, went out to lunch at a new place, where we ran into 4 friends from school, and then went to the pool for the afternoon. It was a nice day.
One of the things we're doing while Josh is here this time is a Harry Potter film festival. We plan to re-watch the first five movies in order to prepare for the sixth, Half-Blood Prince, which will be released on July 15th. It's silly, but it's fun. I've noticed that my knowledge of magical things (not to mention important plot points of the series) has faded considerably over the last two years since Deathly Hallows was released. I remember things in broad strokes, and it's odd what has stayed with me. It's interesting, too, what resonates now that didn't really register before. When we watched Sorceror's Stone this time, it was the Mirror of Erised. The image of Harry spending hours gazing into the mirror, watching the false reflection of his heart's desire, reminded me a little bit of the time I sit in front of my computer screen on the internet, reading and writing, searching for important information, and checking my messages and comments: I expend a lot of mental and emotional energy maintaining these virtual bonds, and there are times when it's hard to shut down and go out in the real world to do real things.
Sometimes I think if Dumbledore lived here, he might have to take my laptop and move it to a new location. Hey! Maybe that's what happened this morning.
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