I attended a writing conference on Saturday and even though I wasn't really looking forward to it, I still felt disappointed. This is so commonly the case with any PD I engage in. When I complained once about faculty meetings and department meetings and the lack of meetings that address the things I actually would enjoy some meetings about, my mom seemed confused as to why this would be. I felt frustrated when she asked about it, because I feel like people have been complaining about faculty meetings since the beginning of time and she should just understand that they are intrinsically useless and infuriating.
But actually, why?
Why is it so hard to address things of actual consequence? Why can't the people in positions of leadership in my field present practical and relevant information that I could use in my classroom? Or in my life? I would settle for information that I could just use in my brain, instead of the usual variety that squeezes into my vulnerable, open ears until my brain rejects it, violently.
When you have a captive audience, shouldn't it be a crime to lecture about minutia and run ragged the same tired, old party lines?
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Two Teaching Stories
#1. My class of comedians was in rare form yesterday. I'm starting a research unit on the current upheaval in the Mideast, and I wanted to introduce the topic to the whole class yesterday so that we all had a basic foundation of knowledge before they broke away into their groups for the rest of the unit. This is all to say that I needed a small degree of attention and quiet. It was clear from the bell that it was going to be a bit of a wrestling match.
Before I share with you my most impressive move, I'd like to say that I did ultimately subdue them, and they ended up completely engrossed in the lesson. But before that, I articulated this little gem of a direction:
"Guys. I'm not going to tell you a million times to stop talking. I'm going to...tell you less than a million times. And on the millionth time...I'm going to ask you to leave."
I was getting a few giggles before I even hit "less than a million times," probably because it was clear I had no idea what I was saying. One of my very well behaved girls shook her head at me and quietly said: "I really don't understand."
She sounds sweet, but she had a hint o' self satisfied smirk. Unfortunately, as she was 100% correct, there was nothing I could do but smile, raise my eyebrows and pretend that their little pee brains simply couldn't comprehend the divine wisdom of my words.
#2. I was giving a quiz on source reliability, which was fantastic because I never get to give quizzes. About ten minutes in, one of my students raised his hand and asked, in a leading tone, "We can make up a website, right?" "Yes," I answered offhandedly, eyeing a suspicious pocket of students who hadn't studied and looked pretty capable of cheating or charging out of the classroom to pull a fire alarm to avoid failing. But after a minute of them doing neither, I thought: wait, what? and went over to my desk to pick up a copy of the quiz. The only question that called for a website was one that asked students to identify an example of a credible source and explain why. When I got to the student's desk I found him writing "facts.org" and giggling a little to himself.
Before I share with you my most impressive move, I'd like to say that I did ultimately subdue them, and they ended up completely engrossed in the lesson. But before that, I articulated this little gem of a direction:
"Guys. I'm not going to tell you a million times to stop talking. I'm going to...tell you less than a million times. And on the millionth time...I'm going to ask you to leave."
I was getting a few giggles before I even hit "less than a million times," probably because it was clear I had no idea what I was saying. One of my very well behaved girls shook her head at me and quietly said: "I really don't understand."
She sounds sweet, but she had a hint o' self satisfied smirk. Unfortunately, as she was 100% correct, there was nothing I could do but smile, raise my eyebrows and pretend that their little pee brains simply couldn't comprehend the divine wisdom of my words.
#2. I was giving a quiz on source reliability, which was fantastic because I never get to give quizzes. About ten minutes in, one of my students raised his hand and asked, in a leading tone, "We can make up a website, right?" "Yes," I answered offhandedly, eyeing a suspicious pocket of students who hadn't studied and looked pretty capable of cheating or charging out of the classroom to pull a fire alarm to avoid failing. But after a minute of them doing neither, I thought: wait, what? and went over to my desk to pick up a copy of the quiz. The only question that called for a website was one that asked students to identify an example of a credible source and explain why. When I got to the student's desk I found him writing "facts.org" and giggling a little to himself.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Names for the Blog
Right now Bloggie's name is Schooled- but that is just a little too cliched. I'm very sensitive to things that are cliches and I would hazard a guess that 85% of the things that I write but I delete almost immediately are banished because they are really super typical and overdone. The other 15% that I delete is super original but really sucks.
Anything about being a first year teacher and being crazy stressed about it is out for the same reason. And also because I'm less stressed about it now, so I'm not in the mood for any title that reckons a Cathy cartoon Aak! Even as played by Liz Lemon as played by Tina Fey.
Also out are the multitude of simple, straightforward and generally perfect titles that have already been claimed because I am really, really late to Blogger.
Let's think. I usually like to turn to authors more accomplished than myself. I read this essay by Mark Doty years ago about composing one of his poems (A Display of Mackerel) that always stuck with me because he described the experience of writing something and only coming to understand what it was you were writing when you finish it- that your metaphor knew more than you. Could that work as a title? MymetaphorknowsmorethanI.blogspot? Oh man. It's trying too hard, and also- there is a phork and a smore in there and they are hogging the stage.
I'm back to thinking about titles that involve rulers and apples and lessons learned. Gag, gag, gag.
My dad had this quote on the wall of his office- the office he moved into after taking a hiatus from his established law career to pursue a more creative one in development- and I remember this conviction in him: "Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it." I remember him signing his emails "Be bold," even though my mom has no such recollection and so like so many things it is forever unknown. But maybe that- being bold. Beginning Bold.
In Faerie Queene there is this too: Be bolde, Be bolde, and everywhere, Be bold.
Even Shakespeare: Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.
I seem to have found a preoccupation, at the very least.
I could always name her Jane.
That was a little joke.
In the cellars of the night, when the mind starts moving around old trunks of bad times, the pain of this and the shame of that, the memory of a small boldness is a hand to hold.
John Leonard
Anything about being a first year teacher and being crazy stressed about it is out for the same reason. And also because I'm less stressed about it now, so I'm not in the mood for any title that reckons a Cathy cartoon Aak! Even as played by Liz Lemon as played by Tina Fey.
Also out are the multitude of simple, straightforward and generally perfect titles that have already been claimed because I am really, really late to Blogger.
Let's think. I usually like to turn to authors more accomplished than myself. I read this essay by Mark Doty years ago about composing one of his poems (A Display of Mackerel) that always stuck with me because he described the experience of writing something and only coming to understand what it was you were writing when you finish it- that your metaphor knew more than you. Could that work as a title? MymetaphorknowsmorethanI.blogspot? Oh man. It's trying too hard, and also- there is a phork and a smore in there and they are hogging the stage.
I'm back to thinking about titles that involve rulers and apples and lessons learned. Gag, gag, gag.
My dad had this quote on the wall of his office- the office he moved into after taking a hiatus from his established law career to pursue a more creative one in development- and I remember this conviction in him: "Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it." I remember him signing his emails "Be bold," even though my mom has no such recollection and so like so many things it is forever unknown. But maybe that- being bold. Beginning Bold.
In Faerie Queene there is this too: Be bolde, Be bolde, and everywhere, Be bold.
Even Shakespeare: Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.
I seem to have found a preoccupation, at the very least.
I could always name her Jane.
That was a little joke.
In the cellars of the night, when the mind starts moving around old trunks of bad times, the pain of this and the shame of that, the memory of a small boldness is a hand to hold.
John Leonard
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