Exposure

We're still plugging away at the Tolerance Club. A couple of months ago, someone had the idea to sponsor movies every month or so after school and invite the whole student body. Our first presentation was Bullied, a short documentary about Jamie Nabozny, a gay teen who was so severely harassed in school with so little support from the administration that he sued the school district and won. We advertised, served popcorn and drinks, and offered an hour of community service credit for anyone who came to the library on a Friday afternoon. To our amazement, 75 kids showed up and heard the message that intolerance is wrong. They even applauded when the verdict was read.

Yesterday it was another documentary short, this one on kids with Tourette's Syndrome. In addition to the film, I Have Tourette's, but Tourette's Doesn't Have Me, we also had a guest speaker-- a young woman who was diagnosed with the neurological disorder at the age of four, but who went on to graduate from UVa and is currently in law school. Her presentation and Q&A with the 75 students who also attended this event were compelling and very moving in their honesty. At one point she told the kids that as hard as it was to cope with her condition and the social consequences, she was glad in a way to have had Tourette's, because everyone has to deal with something and her struggle made her much more empathetic.

I know enough about adolescent development to understand that having difficulty accepting differences is actually an appropriate stage for kids to work through. I don't expect miracles, but it feels good to initiate some real conversations the likes of which rarely happen in middle school.

What is Literacy?

Before I left for my grammar PLC yesterday afternoon, my friend advised me to cheer up. "At least you'll have something to write about," she said.

"Don't worry about me," I told her, because I wasn't worried at all. I was attending as a teacher who had assigned out of context grammar worksheets and given a quiz on pronoun agreement in the last couple of days. Surely I would be embraced by the group.

That's not quite how it went down, though. Just as we were getting started, one of the other members entered the room breathlessly. "I have a question about grammar!" she announced. "How do you teach transitive and intransitive verbs?" she paused dramatically. "You see the text book," and here she opened it with a flourish, "only mentions action and linking verbs. What do we do about that?"

I happen to know the difference between transitive and intransitive verbs (hint: it has something to do with a direct object), but the discussion that followed was about whether it is reasonable to expect the same from sixth grade students, and what our objective might be for such an expectation. Will it make them more fluent writers? Will it make them better communicators? Is it worth not only the instructional time but also the engagement credibility you would be forced to spend on such an endeavor?

"I just think they should know basic grammar," the original teacher declared. "At some point it becomes a matter of cultural literacy."

Others posited that perhaps that was specialized knowledge that might not be a top priority for sixth grade. "Do you know the sixth grade science curriculum?" I asked her. She admitted that she did not. "You're a functional, productive citizen," I told her, "even without a sixth grade science education. It seems like you're doing okay."

She allowed that she was, and the conversation moved on.

That Which We Call a Rose

As part of the memoir genre study we are working on, I'm giving the students short daily writing exercises from which I hope they will be able to gather material. Last night they were supposed to write a page on their names-- what they mean, where they came from, how they like them, etc.

Today volunteers shared their pieces with the class. There were some touching tales of nicknames and namesakes, but there were some hilarious stories, too. One girl swore that her mother found her name on a keychain in Walmart that was 75% off. "She got my name on clearance!" she gasped.

Another girl told us that she was supposed to be named Dixie after her great grandmother, but when they informed the old woman about the honor, she said, "Why would she want that old name? She's too pretty for it! Call her something else." So they did.

And then there were the two students who were named by their young brothers after the Pink Power Ranger and one of the Rugrats.

This is going to be a good unit.

Wise Woman

it's always heartening to read the words of someone who gets it:

Where can teachers find such collegiality today? Where are the institutions or publications that are built around deep respect for the intelligence and inventiveness of teachers—and kids? Are they there, but I'm missing them? The teachers I run into seem instead overwhelmed with study groups and programs driven by contextually empty data. Garbage in, garbage out. 

Read the whole post here.

I Heart Divergent Thinkers

First day back from break, and I decided to do a little grammar to ease back into our routine. I know. It's out of character, but there you have it, and who can't use a little practice with pronoun agreement? I made it as palatable as possible-- I used a chompchomp.com exercise; the students worked in collaborative groups; there was a smartboard involved-- high interest, I tell you, engaging, even.

The final sentence was a bit of a challenge, referring to some crickets and a frog making such a racket outside a poor kid's window that he couldn't study properly for his pronoun agreement quiz, and one of my students was extremely confused. "But wait," he said with furrowed brow. "Wouldn't the frog eat the crickets?"

Call it Denial

I whiled away the day in mindless leisure. At 9:40 this morning we caught the first show of The King's Speech at our local cinema, enjoying coffee, cookies, and clementines in the dark of the nearly deserted theater. Back home, it was lucky leftovers from the traditional New Years dinner, and an hour on YouTube watching newsreels and listening to recordings of the real King George VI.

I moved from computer screen to TV screen next, spending a couple of hours on Epic Mickey, the Wii game I asked for and received for Christmas. I am not a natural or experienced gamer, so it was by extreme trial and error that I made it out of Dark Beauty Castle, and although I never tired of the implicit menace in the arrangement of Once Upon a Dream in minor chords, I felt a great sense of accomplishment in doing so.

But then, while trying to update my Wii internet connection, I totally screwed up the settings for my home wifi network, and I was engrossed in configuring and reconfiguring this and that wireless router, without complete success, I'm afraid, which leaves that particular puzzle for another day. And that brings us to now-- me in front of a screen again, thinking of the final preparations for dinner, and the movie we'll watch tonight, but not at all about returning to work tomorrow.

Those Things, Those Fabulous Things

It's another family tradition of ours to have holiday crackers on the table at this time of year. For those who may not be familiar, crackers are an English tradition; they are rolls of cardboard covered in colorful foil that is twisted at both ends. Each has a snap, a paper crown, a toy or novelty, and a joke of some kind inside. You open them a little like you break a wishbone: two people tug on either end until the snap pops and one person has the larger half with all the goodies inside.

By the end of any festive meal, everyone is wearing a crown, and some may have two or three on. My favorite part is the joke or riddle-- usually a terrible pun but occasionally an unfathomable British joke, for example, Q: What do ghosts wear on wet days? A: Khaghouls. Funny right? (Seriously-- comment if you get it and are willing to explain it to a dim witted Yank like myself.) Years ago, the crackers we used to get had the jokes in English, French, Spanish, and Italian, and trying to read and translate them was lots of fun and much hilarity always ensued.

Tonight's New Years Day dinner was the last cracker event of the season, but rather than be done with them entirely, I found this article on The Telegraph website: Top Ten Worst Cracker Jokes Ever. The jokes are only in English, but I think they are corny enough to get me through until next year.