Going Viral

Every Monday my students have a vocabulary quiz, so for the five minutes before, we do a "stand up, hand up, pair up" review. One of the key components of this activity is the greeting before the actual questioning. For example, "How was your weekend?" is a common start.

Such pleasantries take only seconds, but they are an incentive for kids to participate, and they build community and relax the learners before their assessment. They also make the review a seemingly lower stakes activity.

I, too, participate; it is delightful to connect with my students on a personal level while assessing their mastery of the material. You would be surprised at how few students have consciously figured out that if they pair up with me, I will ask them a question straight from the quiz and make sure they know the answer before they leave my company.

It doesn't matter though, because every week I observe those kids who do come my way asking their peers the same question that I have asked them... and making sure that they know the answer.

And so my work is done.

Chapulines

A few weeks ago we heard an interview with Stefan Gates on The Splendid Table radio show about eating bugs. The idea of using insects as protein has gained some traction over the past few years, especially as a way to ease the world's hunger problems, but Gates arrived at the issue from a different direction; his interest lies in what the foods we eat reveal about us, both as individuals and as cultures. As for insects, he says this:

On one side, insects are perfectly edible. They're nutritious, and they've got a long and noble history in cooking. But reactions to them, especially in the West, especially among people I know -- and myself, to be honest -- are often violently negative. I wanted to find out what this means. Why are we disgusted?

Um, because they're bugs?

While this was my first reaction, upon further consideration I had to acknowledge that there are things I eat and enjoy that are distinctly bug-like, say, crabs, shrimp, and lobster. I also must reflect on my experience of inadvertently consuming giant water bugs with gusto. (True, they were pulverized.)

So last night when we all sat down to a really fun dinner of small plates at Chef Jose Andres' Mexican restaurant Oyamel, I found that I couldn't resist ordering the Chapulines, or grasshopper taco. Fortunately, Emily was with me, and we knew that if we didn't like it, there would be plenty of other delicious bites for us.

Honestly? The taco was good. It was served on a 3 inch house-made, soft corn tortilla with guacamole. The grasshoppers were tiny, and they had been deep fried and seasoned with chilis. Perhaps I was imagining it, but I swear the flavor reminded me of those giant water bugs-- tart and fruity, almost like apples.

And? I was not disgusted at all.

Good Class, Bad Class

"I'm taking a film appreciation class," Josh told us last night. "It's like my English for this semester."

"That's really cool," I said, and we talked for a little while about film theory and some of the many, many movies we have seen together.

"Well, that sounds really interesting," I said at the end.

"It is!" he answered. "But even if it wasn't, it would be way better than any real English class."

Miscue Analysis

The math teacher showed me a placement test that our new student took today. One problem had an array of circles and squares. Find the ratio, the directions read, circles to squares.

No numbers had been written in response to the question, instead? He had circled two squares.

This Happened

In an effort to be more cooperative, I agreed to teach a unit so that all three of the sixth grade teachers at my school could check another "common unit" box even though it included prescribed novels, which I am not in favor of. I strongly believe that students should have a lot of choice in reading; in fact I have a sign in my classroom that cites a statistic that 9 out of 10 kids read more when they choose their own books.

Today I did the "book pass" activity where the students take a structured look at their prospective choices and rank them. It did not go well. Although some kids seemed enthusiastic about the novels there were many negative comments, with "boring" and "babyish" topping the list.

In my last class of the day, the opposition was at its most vocal. There seemed to be a note of betrayal in the complaints, as if my students couldn't believe I was forcing them to read books they didn't want to. 

"Look at that sign!" one of them said. "If 9 out of 10 kids read more when they choose their own books, why are you making us do this?"

Why indeed.

Done!

"I like being the star of your blog!" Mary told me this morning.

"I'll have to do that more often," I replied with more than a little irony. 

I know what she means, though. I wrote this almost four years ago:

A friend and fellow-blogger mentioned me in her blog yesterday. It was really just a fleeting reference; I was but a minor character in her daily anecdote, but I admit to a bit of a thrill when I read it. I write about people all the time, but as far as I know, no one writes about me. Pity-- there's a part of me that wants to be a character in someone else's narrative, if only so I can read about it later. Perhaps I should just make an effort to commit more memorable acts when around my writer friends.

To which Mary replied:

You didn't know my whole blog is about you...it's just disguised in layers of symbolism and metaphors and such. (If it's me you're talking about...)

Quandary

I frowned and let out a long sigh.

We were looking at the results of the quarterly standardized predictor tests we are mandated to administer to our students this year. The passing score is 80% or better, and my students had not fared well.

"Are you feeling bad that your students did so badly?" Mary asked.

"No!" I said, considering the flaws in the test, the stupidity of measuring knowledge and ability by 24 multiple-choice questions.

"Well, kind of," I continued, thinking of how this was the standard we would all be judged by, whether I liked it or not. No wonder people teach the test-- actually, it's a miracle that anybody doesn't.

"And now you feel even worse, because you feel bad? Right?" Mary added.

Right.