In my family, we love words, and we love playing, and so it follows that we love playing with words. Word games? Oh, yeah, bring it! Crosswords, Scrabble, Boggle, Up Words, Bananagrams, we never met one we didn't like. From puns to punctuation, this play often crosses over into our conversations-- a nice word for it might be "banter," but "bicker" wouldn't be inaccurate, either, and "argue" fits sometimes, too.
When my mother was visiting in June, she mentioned that she had read my blog entry for the day. "What'd you think?" I asked.
"I thought you should have used a semi-colon instead of a colon in one place," she answered. Rest assured that a lively debate ensued, and feel free to weigh in with your opinion (note the red text); it's how we entertain ourselves.
Today, when I picked up Treat and Josh from their photography class, Viva la Vida was on the radio. We batted around a few translations of the title, idly speculating about their meaning. "One thing's for sure," Treat said, "the members of Coldplay have no idea what it means."
"I understand if you don't like them," I said "but--"
"That doesn't give me the right to insult them?" interrupted Treat.
"Well, it might not give you reason to question their intelligence," I countered.
Treat elaborated on his opinion, adding that they were arrogant and self-important, and we let it drop. We were at his house by then, and he went inside to pack a lunch for hiking. On the way to our place, we teased him about whether his two boiled eggs and an apple would be enough for all of us.
"I can feed everyone with a single loaf of bread and a fish!" he assured us.
I looked at him in the rear-view mirror with raised eyebrow. "And you think Coldplay is self-important?" I asked.
"I don't know what you're talking about; I wasn't alluding to anything," he grinned innocently. "I was just envisioning a really, really big loaf of bread and a huge fish.
"Oh, I see," I replied. "Well, pardon me for jumping to allusions."
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
Hello Hudson Valley!
I had one of those random summer teacher meetings today. Scheduled at the odd hour of 1:30, it cleaved the day into lopsided portions for the twelve out of fourteen people attending who were actually on summer vacation. Even so, I dusted off my calendar, dug up a legal pad and my trusty pen, and headed out to one of the annexes of the Ed Center. I knew I was out of practice when I realized that I had forgotten my water bottle, but I forged ahead anyhow.
I grouse... but this was actually kind of an interesting meeting. For the next school year, our English Language Arts department has decided to allocate our required meeting time to Professional Learning Communities. Secondary teachers can choose from six different offerings: Differentiated Instruction, Reaching Reluctant Readers, The 90 Minute Block, Teaching Literature, Teaching Grammar through Writing, Vocabulary Their Way, and Writing Project Continuation. I was at the meeting because I was asked to co-facilitate the WP group.
As usual, our ELA department's heart is in the right place, but when they say "facilitate" they mean "create from scratch." That's just how we roll, and it's good and bad. Teachers have the autonomy to design their own program, but... teachers have the autonomy to design their own program. See what I mean?
So, this afternoon my co-facilitator, Phil, and I sat down together and brainstormed what a "writing project continuation" might look like for teachers in our district. (Whatever it is, it's already wildly popular: pre-registration has it close to filled.) We have one two-hour session in September, and then five one-hour sessions over the course of the year, and we started with the question, "What did you wish there was for you when you finished the summer institute?"
Of course, my answer to that question is that, personally, I wished the SI never had to end. Imagine my delight this afternoon, then, when I noticed that Bonnie Kaplan was kind enough to link my blog to the HVWPSI '09 site; I nearly jumped for joy. Thank you, Bonnie-- it's awesome to have such a connection to your community!
As for the continuity project... I have a positive feeling about it; I think we have a chance to put together something good. I'll keep you posted.
I grouse... but this was actually kind of an interesting meeting. For the next school year, our English Language Arts department has decided to allocate our required meeting time to Professional Learning Communities. Secondary teachers can choose from six different offerings: Differentiated Instruction, Reaching Reluctant Readers, The 90 Minute Block, Teaching Literature, Teaching Grammar through Writing, Vocabulary Their Way, and Writing Project Continuation. I was at the meeting because I was asked to co-facilitate the WP group.
As usual, our ELA department's heart is in the right place, but when they say "facilitate" they mean "create from scratch." That's just how we roll, and it's good and bad. Teachers have the autonomy to design their own program, but... teachers have the autonomy to design their own program. See what I mean?
So, this afternoon my co-facilitator, Phil, and I sat down together and brainstormed what a "writing project continuation" might look like for teachers in our district. (Whatever it is, it's already wildly popular: pre-registration has it close to filled.) We have one two-hour session in September, and then five one-hour sessions over the course of the year, and we started with the question, "What did you wish there was for you when you finished the summer institute?"
Of course, my answer to that question is that, personally, I wished the SI never had to end. Imagine my delight this afternoon, then, when I noticed that Bonnie Kaplan was kind enough to link my blog to the HVWPSI '09 site; I nearly jumped for joy. Thank you, Bonnie-- it's awesome to have such a connection to your community!
As for the continuity project... I have a positive feeling about it; I think we have a chance to put together something good. I'll keep you posted.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Plain and Powerful
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)