Slammin

Slam Poet will be back tomorrow and Friday to prepare the kids for the big slam next Wednesday. It's been challenging to get them to  finish and polish their writing for his return... in some ways I feel like the bad guy who's all about drudgery and deadlines, and then he gets to come in and sweep them off their feet with all that drama and charm. It's not about me, though, so I let it go.

Like any lesson or unit, once I've actually taught it, it's easy to see ways to improve the experience for next time. For example, today I showed the students some short clips of slam performances, and frankly, it seems a little late in the process to be doing that, even though they do have time to incorporate what we talked about into their writing. The video probably should have come before most of their revision, so that they could rework their poems with performance in mind. Some kids were a little scared off by the prospect of slamming, too. What if we don't have our poems that day? they asked me a little too hopefully.

It was also a bit of a challenge to find slam performances that were appropriate for middle school, but I have to say, I'm really happy with the ones I chose. Anyone who's interested in including this form of poetry in your class might like to check them out. I showed them in the following order and asked the students what they could deduce about slam poetry after each one. It turned out to be a well-rounded introduction to the art form.

What is Poetry Slam? This one minute animation introduces the basic rules of competition.

Timothy Medel slams about video games in the 2007 Knick's Poetry Slam. The topic and performance were super accessible to my sixth graders.

What I Will by Suheir Hammad. This is a defiant look by an Arab-American woman at violence in the Middle East. My students applauded at the end, and it gave me goosebumps every time I showed it.

I Want to Hear a Poem by Steve Coleman. This is a poem about poems and a slam about slamming; the kids appreciated the complexity of the concept.

Finally, this last clip showed several examples of student performances to give them a yardstick for what their peers have done.

In the end it was an engaging lesson, and I didn't feel quite so much like the mean one in my poetry partnership.

Count Your Blessings, Pardner

On the heels of my gripy post from yesterday, I spent another session invigilating standardized state tests for my students this morning. The teacher I was working with is new to our school district, and in stark contrast to my opinion that we over-emphasize these tests, she couldn't get over how lax we are. To her, there was too much noise (our computer lab is off the cafeteria), unclear directions for the proctor (she wanted to know exactly what words to say when a student asked any question), and non-existent test security (no one monitored the two of us to be sure we weren't improperly assisting the students).

Her last job was in Texas, and she told me the story that they tell all teachers down there before they administer their first state assessments: Seems there was this teacher who was telling her husband about her day. They were in their backyard, and she mentioned something about the TAKS test. Her neighbor overheard the conversation and reported her, and she lost her teaching license. 

Urban legend? Texas tall tale? Whatever it is, I'm thankful we haven't gone that kind of cowboy cuckoo around these here parts.

Yet.

Allow Me to Gripe a Moment

There are many things that bug me about high stakes standardized tests, but I guess the main thing is how reductive they are. Every thing we do and every student we teach is reduced to a number, and then people actually use that number to judge schools, teachers, and kids. If that doesn't seemed screwed up, then I don't know what does.

Let me give you an example. Today we administered the state reading test to our students. Among the small percentage of children who failed (yes, through the miracle of modern technology, we received their official scores less than hour after they finished the test) was a girl who was found eligible for special education this year on the basis of emotional disturbance. We know she can read, but the test pissed her off, and she refused to take her time and do her best.

What does her score prove to anyone?

Wise Up

I stumbled across the fact that today is the 100th birthday of Margaret Wise Brown, author of Runaway Bunny and Goodnight Moon. Who knew that she attended boarding school in Switzerland, advocated progressive education ideals, and was romantically involved with women? Not I.

I always did love her books.

Just Friends

Yesterday on the walk over for Reading Buddies, I had a funny conversation with one of the kids. "I don't believe in stereotypes," she told me.

"Okay," I nodded in agreement.

"Like, I don't think all teachers were nerds when they were kids," she offered as an example.

"Well, I kind of was," I confessed.

"You were?" she replied, and I admit it, I was flattered by her surprise. "How many friends did you have?"

It was my turn to be surprised. That's not the definition of nerd that I was thinking of. Hmmm... How many friends did I have? I wondered. (Let's not forget my self-professed introversion.)

"In middle school?" I asked. "Do you mean people I knew, people I talked to, or people who were close friends?" I wanted clarification. "Because the answer could be a hundred, twenty-five, or six."

"You only had six friends?" she said. "Wow, you were a nerd!" I shrugged. "Well, how many facebook friends do you have?" she asked with a laugh.

Now that's another story.

Reading Buddies

One of the cool things about our school being an IB Middle Years Programme school is the emphasis we place on community and service. Besides encouraging outside service, we offer the students many opportunities to fulfill the requirement we set for each grade level-- 10 hours for sixth grade, 15 hours for seventh, and 20 hours for eighth.

An activity that I help out with is Reading Buddies; every month one of the counselors and I take a group of 20-30 kids to a nearby elementary school to read to second graders. It's a hectic way to spend a Friday afternoon; sometimes it seems like a rather rambunctious and ragtag assembly that loiters in the lobby waiting for their chance to serve. There are always desperate dashes to the library for books, last minute phone calls for permission, a quick snack for the readers, and then we're off on foot in whatever the weather might be.

There are many rewards as well. It's fun to chat on the way over and back; I get to meet students I don't teach and spend time with students I don't teach anymore. The second grade teachers are very appreciative, and the kids, both middle school and elementary, really love this experience, so it's fun to watch them interact. Of course there is always a student or two who will give the older kids a run for their money, and that's interesting, too, to see how they react when their authority is challenged, but even better? This is the third year we've been doing it-- all those former second graders are going to be sixth graders before we know it, and I've got my eye on a few already. (Yeah, I'm talking to you, Kiki and Eduardo.)

Impressionable

I had my writing group tonight. Sometimes the piece I bring to share is inspired by work I'm doing with my students-- no surprise, then, that it was poetry this time. (I also brought cake.)

The Nature Exchange

Mistletoe for sea star,
sea star for tortoise shell,
tortoise shell for antlers and a bit of bone—
we curate our collections
at the nature exchange,
swapping wasps nests
for fox tails.

I want to trade this devils paintbrush
for that pheasant feather,
or maybe mimosa blossoms
for a pink pair of slippers.
Elderberry and lavender can become fidelity,
parsley and rosewater, loyalty,
zinnias in a tin can, time.

I’ll take these mourning doves and daisies,
this vanilla bean and catnip,
and call it home.