The Crooked Eye of the Beholder

One of the ads that came up a few times over the last couple days of class discussion on memorable commercials was this one:

Most students remembered it because it is so bizarre, featuring peculiar chinchilla-like rodents superimposed with seriously amblyopic human eyes and toothy human mouths screeching an offbeat jingle about $2.99 toasted subs. First appearing in 2004, they have become something of meme, and so they are popular with kids who were not even born then.

So when another student mentioned it today, I asked if he considered it memorable because it was so weird.

"Weird?" he responded. "I don't think they're weird. I find them rather stately."

"Stately?" I said. "Really?"

"Yes," he assured me. "Look-- one is wearing a bowler, and the other is obviously an admiral. And--" he paused for dramatic effect, "he is playing a guitar!"

"You make a good point," I agreed, "and they are definitely memorable."

On the Upswing

After months of argument, our English classes have finally reached persuasion. 

The Media Literacy unit we do is always a big hit. Students work in teams of 4 to write and produce a 30-60 second commercial for an imaginary product. It draws on communication skills that have been mostly untapped so far this year and is a welcome pivot. 

We begin by building background knowledge of persuasive techniques, and even though today was mostly note-taking, there was an opening discussion of memorable ads, a fun online quiz game pre-assessment, and of course, lots of commercials to see how the pros use the techniques to sell their products and services. 

"Wow!" I overheard a student say this morning. "English is really improving!"

I'm glad he thinks so.

I've Been Trying to Tell You

The last of those dang essays are still trickling in, a week and a half late. Today I spent the beginning of lunch working with a couple of recalcitrant writers. Our task was to compose a single body paragraph for their arguments, one that they could then use as a model for the rest of their essay. I dictated a topic sentence and suggested some transition phrases to help them organize the evidence and reasoning they already had. Within 10 minutes both students were on their way to a passable draft. 

"I just had no idea essay writing was so easy!" one of them exclaimed as he headed to lunch. 

Off the Junk Heap

I asked my students to compare their writing from the beginning of the unit to the end and then to explain whether they felt their argument skills had improved or not. Most writers felt that they had learned a bit about claims, evidence, and reasoning, and were happy to document their improvement. A few kids did not see any growth, though. One of them volunteered, "My essay at the beginning was trash, and this one is too!"

"I'm sorry to hear that you are unhappy with your writing," I said, "but I don't agree that it's garbage."

"I said 'trash'," she corrected me.

"What's the difference in your mind between trash and garbage?" I asked.

"Trash is trash and garbage is garbage," she replied dismissively.

"Wow! You really are bad at arguing," I teased her.

That got a little smile. 

"Now let's work on that writing!"

Clarity

The building that I teach in is 50 years old. Of that time, it has been my work place for 29 years, and despite its many flaws (very few windows, hulking architecture, early 70s style brown brick, looks like a prison, interior microclimates, leaky roof, cinderblock bathrooms, and more!) I have the warmest of places in my heart for that big, dark, drafty old building. 

But when there were nascent plans to remodel and displace me to move the front office to the where I've been comfortably ensconced for the last three decades, I wondered if it was time to say good-bye. Oh, I got on the committee, and I did some community networking, and I told my tale to anyone who would listen, but in the end, I knew it was out of my hands, and I had to let go, so I did. 

And every day since then has been almost like a gift. There have been countless times when I've paused to consciously appreciate the way the light falls in the late afternoon when I am planning or the quiet of the space as I ready for the day or the joyful energy of a room full of sixth graders. Realizing how fleeting it all is has reminded me of how wonderful it all has been. Today I received word that the renovation is indefinitely on hold; it seems that I may keep this space a little longer, if I will.

I think I may do just that.

One Star Review

For the second weekend in a row, despite high hopes, we watched an unsatisfying movie on Saturday night. Last week it was the new Marvel flick, The Eternals, and last night it was Ridley Scott's medieval drama, The Last Duel. Although very different films, in my opinion both suffered from the same problem: too much information. With running times of over two and a half hours, the movies were too ambitious for their own good. 

In The Eternals, we must meet and learn the stories of the ten (ten!) title characters. There's over an hour and a half of exposition before the true conflict is revealed, and then another hour to resolve it. Marvel is setting up a new franchise here, possibly to replace the Avengers, but even in the Academy Award winning hands of Chloe Zhao, the movie lags. 

Oscars are in no short supply for the cast and crew of The Last Duel, either. Ridley Scott and Ben Affleck both have directing nods, and Affleck and Matt Damon won for their screenplay of Good Will Hunting. None of that talent could salvage Duel for me. Based on the true story of Marguerite Carrouges, who accused Jacques Le Gris, a squire of Normandy, of rape, triggering her husband's duel to the death with him, The Last Duel is a compelling story, told once, maybe even twice, but in this film we see the same events from the perspectives of all three main characters. As each re-telling adds very little to the narrative, the technique is overkill, ultimately unpleasant and worse, boring.

Fingers crossed we'll have better luck next Saturday Night.

One Satisfied Customer

 At the end of the essay unit yesterday, I was helping a student finish his writing. "What's your claim?" I asked him.

"That you are a terrible babysitter," he told me, "because you are bossy, evil, and manipulative."

I nodded, unfazed. I knew he was writing his essay about the story I had written about a bad babysitting job. "What's your evidence?" I asked him.

We spent the next few minutes going over the story and polishing his argument. "Thanks!" he said when we were through. "That's a lot better."

"I guess I'm a better teacher than babysitter," I laughed.

"You really are!" he agreed.