Mr Khaki Pants

The World

2006-10-10T20:11:00.000-05:00

Somewhere houses burn down,

With babies inside.

Somewhere children shoot shop-clerks

Caught on camera.

Mothers prostitute themselves, suffocate their daughters;

But I wish that place weren’t here.

This young man attends my high school; perhaps I've asked him to tuck in his shirt... We discussed plagiarism & senseless violence today. I see the video. Enlarged. I'm numb.

Sarah on Of Mice and Men, page 68

2006-07-31T22:56:00.000-05:00

"Does this book end happy or sad?"

I'm not telling you.

"Why?"

Because you need to keep reading and find out for yourself. (pause) How do you think it ends?

Reluctantly: "Sad."

Yep. (pause) It sort of epitomizes the sad ending. It might be the original sad ending.

"I don't want to keep reading."

Why?

In a soft, sad voice: "Because I want them to get their little farm."

My December 2004 MTC Application Essay

2006-06-22T23:20:00.000-05:00

I intended to post this last summer but never got around to it. I stumbled upon it today and was amazed by what I'd written; I'll comment on it later -- it's already quite long:

I want to contribute socially while growing personally, to teach high-school English while living in a rural Southern or Appalachian community, to pursue graduate coursework in Education while supporting myself financially. Professors and friends have suggested AmeriCorps, Teach For America, or the Peace Corps. But nearly three years ago, I found the Mississippi Teacher Corps’ Website and began e-mailing Germain McConnell questions academic, bureaucratic, logistical, and goofy.

During the past two years – while hibernating in my study; crisscrossing Israel; writing stories; traversing America by plane, train, and automobile; living in a nineteenth-century Virginian farmhouse; preparing for an extended stay in Mexico – I printed and completed MTC applications, amassed transcripts, frequented the Website, and even had recommendation letters sent once. But I never applied. Never put stamp to envelope and took my chance: I couldn’t bear the inevitable “your GPA is too low.”

Today, I have quite the collection of e-mail correspondence and dated application forms. A gathering of daydreams and desires: tangible reminders of years I might’ve spent teaching. But I’ve deliberated enough, weighing long- and short-term ambitions. January 2005, I apply.

Because.

I enjoy helping others better themselves. While at the University of Michigan, I volunteered with the Detroit Project to beautify city neighborhoods; with the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation to walk for a cure; with Tuesday Friends to supervise physically- and mentally-challenged adults at movies, barbeques, and pools; with Project Serve’s Alternative Spring Break (ASB) to educate high-school dropouts and rebuild flood-damaged homes in rural West Virginia. I’ve touched urban poverty, held hands with the handicapped, and hugged backwater dope fiends. I’ve seen that I can make a difference – that I enjoy making a difference. But I want more: I want to nourish souls, challenge minds, and evoke excellence.

I’m looking to create a mind-blowing classroom experience for students by combining elements from my three most memorable and worthwhile educational experiences: (1) The six-week, eight-credit, uber-awesome New England Literature Program (NELP) run by U of M’s English Department, during which students and staff inhabit cabins, hike mountains, read incessantly, write intensively, live deliberately, and provoke one another to greatness while studying New England poetry and prose in a passionate, tight-knit community; (2) My two-month road trip to historical and literary hotspots around America (Twain’s Connecticut home, the Alcott house, Hawthorne’s Concord estate, Walden Pond, D.C., Antietam, Revolutionary War sites, Seneca Falls, Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello, Ground Zero, etc.) which enlivened biographies and histories by meaningfully connecting me with America: a people, a place, and a time; (3) The previously mentioned ASB during which university students visit distressed communities, assist local laborers, and motivate struggling individuals. I love the hands-on approach!

A la Walt Whitman, I seek a synthesis of curriculum and experience. Bringing texts to the students, but also bringing students to the texts. I plan to facilitate an emotional, intellectual, meaningful literary experience, forcing students to think: arguing with me, bettering themselves, engaging with the material, personalizing the discussion. My gift is communication – specifically with children. I’ve taught teary-eyed pre-teens to dive, hysterical toddlers to float, and nearly 100 nervous students to improve SAT, PSAT, and LSAT scores. (I hope to bring similar programs to local schools.) I would like to sponsor an extra-curricular African-American Literature Society to connect students with their literary traditions and an extra-curricular writing workshop to engage young voices. I want to instill a love of writing and the English language as powerful as my own: a passion for grammar, an ardor for prose, a fascination with oddball literary characters from Holden Caulfield to King Lear. To work as hard as my teachers did.

Teaching is less about a checklist syllabus or national agenda and much more about motivational antics and personal connections with individuals. Teaching is reciprocal. It is the best way to understand the next generation, to contribute communally, and to interact substantively with others. I teach because I enjoy imparting skill and confidence. Watching somebody “get it” – eyes dancing, cheeks glowing, ideas clicking – is wonderful! I love tackling difficulties, assuaging fears, and steadying bicycles. Reminding kids to pedal, counterbalancing their weight, then releasing the bicycle, and watching students zoom.

Today, disadvantaged communities most need these outstanding contributors and energetic bike holders. Beyond ASB and NELP, my interests in Appalachia and the rural South stem from 6 weeks spent solo-camping outside a small coal-mining town in Pennsylvania while reading Salinger, Nietzsche, and Hesse; four months as a counselor at Kabeyun when William Pollack’s Real Boys gained widespread popularity; James Agee’s efforts to expose American poverty in Let Us Now Praise Famous Men; FDR’s commitment to politically neglected Americans; and the many teachers to whom I trace my many enthrallments: Mrs. Fallbaum, Mr. Calkins, Mrs. Jaffe, my grandfather, my mother, John Rubadeau, Tish O’Dowd, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Plato. Many forces have together funneled me toward a life of service.

But what motivates me, challenges me to pedal faster? Teaching. Read my recommendation letters. Call my employers. Please. Descriptions of my teaching style vary from “passionate” to “committed” to “excellent.” I strive to stay ahead of my students, to teach to each of my students, to impress and motivate each of them to action. I’m busy and active when teaching and preparing to teach; I’m focused and energized. I mention all this in juxtaposition to my past academic record.

A cursory look at my transcript reveals several issues. (1) In college, my coursework was sporadic, depending on the class, semester, or professor. Finding employment, acceptance letters, and pride from such a marred transcript is, needless to say, difficult. (2) My commitment to and mastery of English Literature and writing courses cannot be denied. (3) I have an obvious capacity to excel when motivated and an undeniable, untapped potential evidenced by, again, “occasional” outstanding – far above average – scores, triumphs, and accomplishments. If good judgment comes from experience, then experience comes from bad judgment. I spent much of college learning from mistakes: the semester I pledged a fraternity, the semester I slept in my car, the semester I took off to visit old friends. I can relate to the struggling student, the disinterested, bored, or quitting child; I can understand firsthand why someone wouldn’t care as much about class A as class B or why someone wouldn’t see the practicality of schooling. Plus, I can confidently say that such behaviors are in the past – are behind me.

I’m deliberately enclosing 3 extra recommendation letters because they are the strongest indicator of who I am today – yes, I saw the directions “do not include any additional information or supplemental materials,” but I must. I would rather not get the job for failure to follow instructions than for failure to most fully paint the picture. These varying letters provide more color and humanity than black and white grades ever could. I am devoted to and excellent at teaching. I need someone to invest in me as badly as the Mississippi Delta kids need someone to invest in them. I want to further my own academic studies because Education is paramount. And I relish the opportunity to prove that I am capable of an “A” transcript; I long for the opportunity to improve upon and further my own schooling.

At NELP, I learned to challenge perceptions, embrace education, and seek genius in everyone. I look forward to a classroom full of boisterous discussion, feverish crescendos, full-contact learning. I make it impossible for students not to speak up; I lead and follow like a chalk-wielding one-man circus. I want to make books and language as tangible to them as my road trip made authors and history to me. ASB showed me firsthand what “want” means. And I’m no idiot. I understand that my students may face tremendous peer and social pressures, have rough or unpredictable home lives, and see little practical use for English class. But I intend to demonstrate the financial benefit of confident, persuasive writing – to teach the power of coherent, structured communication. I have these gifts and enthusiasm to offer.

My immediate future is alive with exciting possibilities. I may teach at NELP in Maine; assume more responsibilities at Camp Kabeyun; lead a 40-day USY trip to Alaska, Israel, or Costa Rica; prepare a fiction manuscript for publication; apply for a Fulbright grant; study as an NYC teaching fellow; take summer classes in New Mexico, Alaska, or Vermont toward a Masters degree in Literature through Bread Loaf School of English; use grant monies to found an alternative Tent-City summer writing program for high-school students; or attend MTC training in Oxford, Mississippi. My “five-year plan” involves a variety of pursuits focused on Literature and education, stamping out ignorance, and leadership.

I hope I’ve been clear: of everything I’ve mentioned and every program I’ve considered, the Mississippi Teacher Corps is the program that most speaks to me. I see it as the cornerstone around which everything else fits. I would like to use my MTC experience as a stepping stone into future teaching, graduate work, and communal outreach – locally, politically, legislatively, creatively. I’m currently in a holding pattern somewhere between a 3.0 and a successful, impacting future. And I would love to begin amid Tennessee Williams’ characters, Faulkner’s lands, and Twain’s waters. For three years, MTC has been my top choice. It still is. So, I’m going to mail this letter. I’m going to send this application, and I’m going to go home, throw away the abandoned forms, and wait for your decision.

I’ve made mine.

Corporal Punishment (600+ words)

2006-06-20T20:03:00.000-05:00

How did you feel about corporal punishment when the program started? How do you feel now?

I was vehemently opposed to corporal punishment when I began Teacher Corps last year. I refused to believe that a culture of in-school violence could somehow teach a child that violence was wrong. Surely the “moral high ground” would be best for all involved parties.

I am now strongly against corporal punishment. Which, I suppose, is a lessening of severity – but just barely. On occasion, throughout the year, I found myself wondering about the possible benefits (the swift justice and demeaning embarrassment to the student) of paddling. But, as angry as I ever got – and once or twice I could feel my blood boiling at a few select students (better: at their behavior) – I never struck or really considered striking a student. Not my nature.

It should be noted that I teach in a district that does not allow corporal punishment to be used – not that I haven’t heard stories of coaches paddling disobedient athletes. I really don’t have 350 words to say on this topic. It’s a moot point: hitting kids is wrong; I don’t hit kids. We’ve heard horror stories all year about teachers taking it too far, and we all know stories about violence breading monsters. In fact, if this year has been about one inter-personal skill, it’s been about “killing them with kindnesses.”

Some people enter a meeting ready for an argument, but, more than occasionally, I’ve disarmed those fiery folk with my genuine interest in their point of view and my calmness. I found it best to listen to people (parents, students, crazy librarians) and to hear them out; then, after they’ve spent themselves, I calmly ask them a question – usually of the “what can I do to help you?” variety. Expecting a fight or a confrontation, they have no idea how to respond; then they start feeling bad (embarrassed, really) for losing their temper, and before long we’ve reached an agreement, and I conclude with some motivational words and a joke. When I describe it now, it almost sounds scripted or disingenuous. But really, it’s all honest emotion being productively channeled towards an efficient, mutually desired outcome. (I sound like a businessman: all efficiency and “at the end of the day”-ish. [Well, having given my Classroom Management presentation today, the fact that I run my classroom in an efficient, multi-tasking, activity-heavy manner has not escaped my notice.] As a teacher, I tried my best to skip the bullshit and circumnavigate the nonessential moments. These include staff meetings, meaningless confrontations, and professional development.)

To corporally punish? I promised myself long ago that I wouldn’t resort to violence (having seen a friend snap and destroy an apartment [and its bathroom] in his rage). So I’m good at not “losing my shit in a fit of rage.” This year I promised myself that I wouldn’t let anger fill me with internal rage either. Throughout the year, I could feel myself swallowing anger so as not to flip out on my students. But I then decided to protect my heart from undue stress and drama; probably the most health-conscious decision I made all year. I breathe deep and listen, waiting for my chance to question.

To wrap up this meaningless required entry, what troubles me most about corporal punishment and the culture of fear and violence it enables is the teacher so quick to brag about smacking a child or assisting in a whooping or actively whooping a child. I guess it’s something that I won’t understand until I have kids and am faced with the very real dilemma of whether or not to spank a child who’s deliberately peed on my books.

The Mess Inside

2006-06-20T01:14:00.000-05:00

A highly productive day.

I realized that waking at 6:00 am (for the party bus to enrich three rising-seniors) and then returning from Holly Springs just before 2:00 pm makes for an eight hour day before I've noticed.

But today The WikEd Five met for snacks and insults, standing our project upright for the first time. Not bad. A conversation with Dr. Mullins re: the Reggie Barnes endorsed Mississippi Alternate Pathways to Quality School Leadership. "A dog" as expected; "unendorsed" according to Dr. Burnham. Hardly surprising. But I can't say that the program doesn't have its appealing side -- especially since the Principal Corps won't start until June 2008.

A 90-minute Mullins lecture re: Jackson, then we talk about Public Policy programs, PhD's, and law school. Then, finally, Mo and I start talking about CRCL and Jim Hill and, well, here's what happened (the text of my 1:30 am email to him):

I stumbled across this amazing FREE site/gaming-database while researching software options for ETC (hereafter known as the "Enrichment Tutoring Club").

http://www.triton.k12.wi.us/Web%20Site%20Resources/MathPage.asp

The above site will serve as our math-center. The below site... a way to spend money on reading remediation? Maybe these programs aren't so bad, when used in a supplementary fashion? (But how do I find THE BEST ONE (or the most efficient/affordable one? I contemplate Sylvan, etc.)

http://www.lexialearning.com/index.cfm (I'm thinking "primary reading" coupled with a "visual-spatial" and "logical reasoning" tutorial package.)

I think Jordan Fundamentals (grant notification in late August) would fund this software and food; I lack Lexia's pricing but will be contacted soon. We can use MLI to pay an elementary teacher to baby-sit and distribute snacks [backpacks of food?] until 3:40. Then the teacher can walk the kids to my room by 3:45 where they're greeted by our smiling, timely tutors. This should be twice weekly (M/Th), targeting the same kids, using a range of signed-up-in-advance pre-qualified "tutors" (and pulling other teachers to monitor while I transition into the M/Th senior-IB SAT teacher come September 10th -- in time for the November 4 exam; speaking of which, we need to seek the necessary $10,000). When ETC gets wings (come January), we could run it from two labs simultaneously -- or, at the very least, open my room up to a M/W group AND a separate T/Th group (incorporating even more teachers and tutors and elementary students), displacing CRCL to some larger space... the choir room? Tuesdays and Wednesdays will have to be sacrosanct -- ONLY for CRCL's nucleus.

CRCL board meetings are Tuesday roundtables from 3:40-4:30 (while Board Game Club thrives in an adjacent room w/another teacher) -- literally seated around one table. J and C at the helm of an agenda (for Wednesday's meeting, next week's meeting, the monthly projects), their own ideas/concerns, P and L reporting to them on ETC, other CRCL sub-components (R's Film Night, October's Reservoir Panel, January's AfAm Program Committee). Each strand will need a Chair, and we'll need a secretary to take/distribute minutes (via jimhillcrcl@gmail.com) and present thank-you notes from the previous week's meetings, plus a treasurer to keep me sane. I'm not saying "parliamentary procedure," but a gavel feels only appropriate for J and C to share. And definitely a "one-strike, you're out rule" for Tuesdays. Let Wednesdays go where they will (guest speakers, debatable articles, chaos), but someone other than you, J, and me needs to start taking responsibility for organization. That's Tuesday. And one excursion / field trip per month.

Part II

2006-06-13T23:29:00.000-05:00

We’re in the library, kids are online, using computers, pulling encyclopedias, printing information, interpreting data, complaining about the work, arguing with group-mates, asking me good questions. We’re rocking it out. The librarian is a hassle, but that hardly matters for our purposes. Students divide and conquer, pooling and interpreting information. Summaries are written, references quoted. (We all know about plagiarism already!)

A day or two later, we’re back in class – and by now most of the kids have realized that we’re dissecting lines from a song, and that they’re holding the lyrics in their hands. What the order of events exactly was, no one knows for sure, but at some point I played the song for them. Students gave outstanding oral presentations on their decades. Here’s the key: the class had better be taking notes (especially when I highlight the important components from the back of the room by the world map) because there is going to be an open-note test on all this information. When each day ended (because we do lots of different activities in my course, we only had 30 minutes per day for presentations, so they lasted for several days), I’d play “We Didn’t Start the Fire” for them, and they’d follow along, singing the parts the could, realizing how much of the lyrics they understood and had learned about. It was eye-opening for all of us. Certainly a great way to start semester two.

Within a few weeks we’d written our own life’s highlights (similar to Billy Joel’s enumeration) with each group fine-tuning its own song, and some groups setting theirs to music and delivering jaw-dropping performances (both lyrically and musically). MoMo walked by my room to overhear a song.

We wrapped everything up with the open-notes test that I’d promised. Overall, kids learned a lot about the world around them – even if they didn’t memorize a host of facts; had a blast doing group work; took copious notes; stayed organized and informed; and excelled on a test. As late as the last day of school, students would shout “We Didn’t Start the Fire, Mr. KP” when I’d get too wild in class. Or they’ll shout, “JFK blown away, what else do I have to say!”

And I smile. Because kids’ll do that. “By god the old man could handle a spade / Just like his old man.”

Part I

2006-06-13T23:26:00.000-05:00

An Effective Unit: (800 words)

Describe an assignment, unit, or lesson that was particularly effective. Why was it effective?

A unit that always makes me smile is the most serendipitous (and that’s saying something for me!) unit of the year. I awoke the morning after Christmas break and had some vague notion about what we’d do in school that day/week/month, but – per usual – I hadn’t thoroughly planned anything. Then, for a change, I showered. And I started singing Billy Joel’s ode to modern world history, “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Granted, this project could’ve (probably should’ve) fallen flat on its ass, but my setup was good. It must’ve been. I mean, it really must’ve been because I was able to successfully teach “Goodnight Saigon” in our final week of the school year (during our war unit), cribbing entirely off student interest from “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” That said, there are definitely elements I’ll change for next year (mostly involving my preparedness to teach the lesson for maximum student benefit rather than for teacher survival).

I probably introduced the unit, thinking it’d be a quick one-off. Just something to occupy a 90-minute block and maybe some time as homework for the kids. Oh boy did that not happen!

In the first five minutes, I split the kids into groups of 4-5 and assigned each group a decade (40s, 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s – something I’ll change for next year is more evenly splitting the work by decade and group, because the song is so light on the 70s and so heavy on the 60s, et cetera). I explained what I expected of them (“Use the internet; find the words to ‘We Didn’t Start the Fire.’ [I didn’t say whether it was a song or a poem or whatnot.] Look up the terms from your decade. All of you are expected to do research. You will be graded for individual as well as group effort.” That sort of bullshit. Again, something I’ll more effectively prepare – say, in rubric form, next year plus, I could always prepare the lyrics for them in advance… naaahhh), then we were off to the library. Going to the library, as it always is, was clearly the worst part of the project. This was not my fault in the least. This was because our librarian is a insert alliterative expletives here. She screams (and I do mean screams) at people – students, teachers, parents – for insignificant minutiae. I hate being around her and in the library; of course, the students feel the same. Which is a shame because teaching kids to enjoy libraries is part of my mission. I am digressing.

Failure Blog: An Ode to Mixed Metaphors and The Rambling Man (900 words)

2006-06-12T23:45:00.000-05:00

A failure: not getting Sarah a job at my high school. That’s an unfortunate blight on the year. Something to learn from surely.

It’s easier for me to write about failure than success – the latter being so ill-defined and the other so haunting for we dedicated teachers. My English Tutoring Club (ETC) was a failure. Maybe not a crash-burn-explode-there-goes-the-city-block abomination, but it hardly hovered before it sputtered and stalled. So I yanked the plug. (Because I had many other, much more successful ventures demanding my attention. Austin asked me today about my Board Game Club; I’d forgotten about that club and the Tuesdays we’d shared. Tangent: My memory has been completely and worrisomely sucking lately. Reason: I’m fucking exhausted to the core of my being. “I can’t remember faces / Don’t remember names.” That’s for Mason Cole.)

We mocked ETC, we did, students and I – for its undefined focus, for its “let’s have t-shirts slogans,” for its general worthlessness. But ETC’ll soar next year; I developed a revival plan as soon as I realized it was faltering: Mo and I will co-pilot it (failure #1 – it necessitated too much for me to coordinate alone – as he puts it: sometimes you can throw another ball in the air, and sometimes you have to take a pass) and we will incorporate ETC under our Civil Rights & Civil Liberties (CRCL) agenda (failure #2 – inconsistent core student group, poor student leadership, too few available [and helpful!] outside resources. [A “helpful” resource is one willing to give money/resources/people/assistance with assured reliance and relatively little hassle for a teacher working full-time plus.]) So now we will be covered on all grounds thanks to CRCL’s umbrella. Also, we have former-Governor Mabus’s blessing.

Our students point-blank asked him if he’d support a campaign to change the name of the Ross Barnett Reservoir, and he said no. His rationale: Spend your energy combating real-time injustice not symbols of injustices past. He didn’t want us pouring our energy into a failing cause that wouldn’t really improve the status quo. His suggestion: Peer tutoring. He nailed it, and though ETC already had a new mission, now it had wings and a blessing – okay, fine, “a prayer.” Wings and a prayer. [By the way: Former Secretary of State Dick Molpus wholeheartedly supports student efforts to change the Reservoir’s name; and you know Mo and I are too insert flattering yet backhanded compliment here to turn our students around now. They are righteously indignant about that reservoir… Further information: Andy Mullins stood with Ray Mabus on the “fix something more meaningful” line, and we’ve yet to ask former-Governor Winter.] I say: Both. ETC and CRCL together.

But this isn’t what I want to talk about. I want to talk about AK. AK was a soft-spoken 4^th-period honors freshman whom I failed. Sure, he earned a 60% or whatever – but I failed him. I had him so many times, and not once did I actually win. This will be involved.

I had his mother on speed-dial. I called her. She came to conferences. She held up her end of the bargain. She forced him to stay after school. In my classroom. She forced him to attend tutoring sessions, CRCL, and ETC meetings when I asked her to, but even with all those extra hours – even with all that extra exposure to me and my ways – I failed to meaningfully connect with him. He thought I was unfair, boring, mean, stupid, and a waste of his time. He slept (often in the most uncomfortable-looking positions one might imagine) at every opportunity, never volunteered an answer all year, rarely had any homework to submit, hardly touched handouts, contributed only to one group project.

And here’s the kicker: He’s smart. Not smart as in “oh boy, that kid sure has a lot of potential,” but smart as in actively smarter than most of his peers but too stubborn to try at all. He’s a fluent reader (his mom tells me all about the words he looks up and the books that he reads for his own pleasure), but I could never get him to do anything for class. I don’t know what to make of him. To be honest, he reminds me of myself a bit, but I sure as hell hope I was never that rude or arrogant to my teachers. He thinks he’s already got a career in the pros and a million dollars in his pockets. Why the hell does he need my class anyway?

He’ll acknowledge me in the hall with a “wassup Mr. Khaki Pants” with his head bowed and his feet shuffling, and I can always tell that he’s thinking something intelligent and gone. Not least because his mother reports back to me the thrilling dinner conversations that CRCL had sparked at his home. But only once did he and I engage in such dialogue. And to be honest, I remember the moment of interaction more than the content. [There goes the memory again!]

So there’s my failure: one kid at a time. I’m not sure I got anywhere with AK, and I poured in a lot of myself (relative to other students, I mean). By no means did I not go “above and beyond” (as Joe Sweeney terms it). This is a failure of success, not a failure of effort. And I failed AK. I wonder if they’ll remove him from the honors program. Never in my life have I felt more like Ozzie Osborne… incoherent and incompetent…

It Begins (Again)

2006-06-02T21:11:00.000-05:00

Last night was great: Meredith saved my ass (and probably Mary's too) with her 2:1 pre-Praxis II math tutorial. These were concepts that I hadn't thought about in eight or more years (I last multiplied matrices in 1996!), and Meredith really brought the math alive, explaining answers and defining terms. I could've gone on for hours! Giddy with math love. It occurs to me how great life would be if I could live my life being intensely tutored in fascinating subjects. I would love to learn Latin or Italian -- or study psychology or philosophy in a 2:1 or even 3:1 setting. I would love to be tutored! The things we learn about ourselves when we least expect to...

Then Sarah and I drove Robbie and Mary to a dinner-in-progress at Old Venice Pizza. A definite good move on MTC's part: bringing first- and second-years together immediately. Talking with James, Chris, Hunter, Mary, and intern Molly brought back memories and fired me up!

I hope this summer means more time to blog -- in addition to all the crazy projects surrounding me. AND I'M MARRYING SARAH IN A MONTH! :)

"Unrealistic Expectations"

2006-06-01T20:19:00.000-05:00

Up before 5, packing, a nearly three-hour drive, some food, a class, catch-up notes, enrichment planning, an apartment hunt, moving in, an eleventh-hour Gloria Steinem Leadership Institute application, faxing fun, catching the tail end of Ms. Monroe's class for the first-years. Then, at the buzzer, Ben attempted to answer the "why people quit Teacher Corps" question. His analysis: Unrealistic expectations. He spoke specifically about Ari Glogower and Reggie Quinn, encouraging first-years to read their blogs. When I raised my hand to defend them, he asked me to blog it out...

Facts:

(1) Teaching is hard. Yay teachers!
(2) Teaching as a first-year teacher in an under-performing district with only a two-month crash-course certification is hard. Yay Teacher Corps!
(3) Teaching 3 English courses to 139 different students (93 of whom are "honors" students) in a school with three Teacher Corps peers, a boatload of helpful teachers, and a progressive supportive principal is hard. Yay me!
(4) Teaching a foreign language (an elective students are often forced to take) from an isolated portable as the only Teacher Corps member at an inner-city school is spectacularly harder. Yay Sarah DeGraaf!
(5) Teaching math skills to 184 middle-school students is far harder still. And illegal. Yay Ari Glogower!
(6) Teaching physics and every math course offered at your school when everyone wants to fire you for giving homework and grades is fucking insane. Yay Reggie Quinn!

My Analysis:

Expectations quickly confront reality, and people adjust within the week. Whether you thought you'd fail or succeed hardly matters when the rubber meets the road -- it's how you drive from there on. Then-general Eisenhower famously said that he'd plan and he'd plan and he'd plan, but once the battle began, the plans went out the window. Everyone's expectations are unrealistic. You won't know what it's like to only have 17 books -- until you only have 17 books. And the door closes when the bell rings.

The problem is support. People often ask MoMo and me what the "secret formula" for our extracurriculars was. Our answer is teamwork: 2 teachers, support, and a target group of students. Our target students were IB kids. Our support system was never-ending: significant others, administrators, building teachers, MTC, Ben Guest, family, friends. But, at the end of the day, the biggest factor at Jim Hill was that we each had the other. When I was down, he was up; when he was down, I was up -- and we balanced our act, pushing the ball forward, accelerating the learning curve of a first-year teacher by carrying the other.

Support: Someone to ping-pong ideas with. An intellect. Someone to actively pull you when you're dead weight. A friend. Someone to kick your ass into gear when you want to quit. A coach. Someone to make you feel that what you do every day is worth it. Is good. Matters. The easiest way to ensure this is to place two Teacher Corps members together. Add TFA, add more energetic young blood, insert significant others, add a baby. And suddenly you have life and purpose whereas before you only found frustration, angst, and resentment. They quit because they were abandoned on a day-to-day basis. Sure, Ben Guest is always a phone call away -- but who matters most is the person just down the hall. And when no one is there, everything else starts looking a whole lot better.

In conclusion, I'd rather plan for tomorrow than talk about yesterday. And tomorrow is going to be a doozy...

The Knot

2006-05-09T00:52:00.000-05:00

Marrying Sarah July 4 near Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, USA.

I've Said It Before, and I'll Say It Again:

2006-04-25T22:44:00.000-05:00

College was the best ten years of my life... Go Blue!

Praxis Advice

2006-04-23T16:11:00.000-05:00

The Praxis I is so easy that you will feel offended, insulted, and angry (at yourself for missing more than two questions). You will pass with flying colors and wonder for many moons: "What kind of idiot can't pass this test?" And then you will meet those people when you start teaching in the public school system. You will subsequently cry, rend your clothing, and disavow solid food.

The Praxis II tests can be a bit trickier -- depending on your major. As an English major, teaching English, the Praxis II in English was a cake walk (much, much, much, MUCH easier than the English Lit GRE required for a PhD program). But, I'll be taking the Praxis II in math this summer and am concerned about that one -- my background not being particularly math-oriented. Ben'll arrange study groups in early June.

So, if you're taking the test in your field, you'll have no problems. If you're stretching into new domains, I'd recommend you check www.ets.org (Praxis II Test Details, Test Preparation, Tests at a Glance, Subject Assessments, and then just look for the name of the Content Test that you'll be taking). Honestly, though, don't sweat it: Mississippi's standards are appallingly low...

Hedge Funding Schools?

2006-04-23T14:59:00.000-05:00

One of the best articles I've read in months... And my response to it and a friend:

This is necessarily a long hodge-podge. Please read it through. On the one hand, I know you're busy; on the other hand, I want to do justice to the issues.

I'm familiar with "Success for All." Very mixed feelings. As an educator I'm torn. I hate scripted programs (especially in an English classroom) because they hog-tie an effective, progressive teacher like me; yet I adore The Princeton Review's scripts because they demand high-caliber teachers from the get-go. I believe more strongly in getting great teachers than in finding great programs to be run by shitbox teachers. My cohort is split about similar programs that they've been forced to implement this year at their schools. Consult their Blogs for their opinions.

If you wanted more information on the "phonics" vs. "whole language" approaches to teaching reading, check out the Reading Wars in California that have been waging for 20-30 years. [Also, what do you know about the Barksdale Reading Institute? They've poured millions (30?) into Mississippi over the past 3 years and have seen little encouraging results. I've met the director, and he's frank if depressing when he says that they've done the best job imaginable, but that the kids need too much.]

The biggest issue is sustaining any growth (such as Greenblatt has experienced) throughout the middle-school years. Programs can succeed with young children, but they fall off after 4th grade. It's bizarre, and the only rationale I buy is the "culture" excuse: students spend only 15% of their waking hours in a classroom (a school year is only 180 days, more than half of each school day is spent not during school hours, and some of every 7-hr school day is spent at lunch, in passing time, or at gym) and otherwise live 85% of their waking lives surrounded by peer pressure in a non-literate culture. One out of three American adults is functionally illiterate; that's insane, and it's much higher in these impoverished communities. Think about it: Ever seen someone blow past the "Please wait to be seated" sign at a restaurant? Ever seen someone look at a picture and order a "Number 3" off the MickeyD's menu? Why don't poor people file for an income tax refund? Because they can't read.

Another issue is money. Greenblatt acknowledges that it's not simply throwing money at a problem that will solve it. And he's right. But with so much mismanagement in education and so much red tape in politics, the money (especially a measly $1000 per student) doesn't make it where it needs to be. Having software designers and money managers on-hand, to really run a school (an "educational business/institution") would solve many, many problems.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Reader, the biggest thing that would help Mississippi's public education right now would be placing a $1,000,000 endowment in the hands of the Mississippi Teacher Corps at the University of Mississippi. Anyone who could do that would be impacting the lives of tens of thousands of children. But people aren't exactly clamoring for that non-honor. They want to create something from scratch to stamp their name to -- like the Bill Gates Foundation or The Barksdale Reading Institute. But MTC is in a very fortuitous position because of its relationship with the university. If you're interested in learning more about what we do and why an endowment is necessary, Ben Guest is the man to address: bguest@olemiss.edu.

But let me tell you this: An endowment would create one of two opportunities.

1) The Teacher Corps would be able to train an additional 15 teachers every year. And every year, those same 15 teachers would be teaching in some of the country's worst schools. At 130+ students per teacher, we're talking about impacting the lives of an additional 2000 students per year. Every year.

2) Or the money would be used to extend the Teacher Corps for an optional third and fourth year. The money would pay for a specialist's degree and for National Board Certification -- for "continuing education" of the teacher -- both of which result in higher pay and better teachers. Plus, teacher retention rates jump dramatically if a teacher teaches for five consecutive years.

If such a large endowment is too much to wrap your head around, consider this: A $15,000 donation earmarked specifically for the making of a documentary film will provide the Teacher Corps with the marketing tool necessary to aggressively pursue the million-dollar donors. I've contacted a filmmaker this evening.

Can I put you on the Teacher Corps monthly email list?

To A Future Guest Speaker

2006-04-23T14:26:00.000-05:00

My name is Mr. Khaki Pants, and I am an English teacher at Name This High School. Insert Student Name Here is a student of mine, so I attended last night's Jabberwock along with Mr. MoMo (a math teacher at the high school).

To make a long story short, MoMo and I have co-founded a student-run Civil Rights & Civil Liberties Club at Name This. Our typical meetings are fiery discussions involving 10-20 students from 4-5pm on Wednesdays. Our president and executive board members usually stay until 6ish, and we have debated issues ranging from race, education, and nutrition to politics, Governor Ross Barnett, and student leadership. Recently we've had a spate of guest speakers (Senator John Horhn, local NAACP President Gus McCoy, Jackson Free Press columnist and rapper Kamikaze, Governor Ray Mabus, and others).

When we make an announcement for such speakers, we can pack the room with 70 students. We've taken a 40-student fieldtrip to Murrah's African American History program and have a budding partnership with St. Andrews. We are currently planning two fieldtrips: one to Ole Miss and Memphis for May 12-13 and one to Beth Israel for a Holocaust Memorial this Tuesday. We are funded by Jackson State University's Mississippi Learning Institute and have been in constant contact with the William Winter Institute for Racial Reconciliation.

Our nascent club is taking off, and we would love for you to be a part! We hope you'll consider speaking with our students on Day, Month Date, from 4-5pm. Your views on BET and the African-American woman and Black culture would be an excellent counterpoint to Kamikaze's feelings about Spike Lee's recent comments at Ole Miss and hiphop culture's blamelessness in the perpetuation of a degrading public image.

Normally, I would have Super Student (a student leader) compose this email, but with the school year winding down, and days ticking away, I couldn't wait until tomorrow -- plus she's been busy planning our fieldtrips, organizing our meetings, and learning vocabulary words. Again, our students would love to ask you questions and to hear you speak. I have cc'ed this email to Super Student and MoMo, and you should feel free to respond to any and all of us.

Thank you for your time,
KP (and MoMo and Super Student)

English II Writing Test

2006-03-21T22:51:00.000-06:00

My first period class walks to the gym. We sit for five minutes in the bleachers. We are told to go to the auditorium. Most of my first period class walks to the auditorium. We sit for five minutes in the broken seats (stage left, front section). We are told to go to an empty 100-hall classroom. Some of my first period class walks to the classroom. We sit for five hours. We go to lunch. We return to the same classroom. At some point, I assigned extra-credit work, graded a test, and freestyled for the students while they rotted before my eyes.
I take my car to the shop after school to finally replace the starter… then go to JSU to watch Chi Chi run with MoMo… then make dinner at MoMo’s and watch Scrubs… Degraaf says she wants to be a TPR teacher; I’m surprised…

Laughing, Inquiring, Digging

2006-03-01T22:19:00.000-06:00

Those will be my 3 themes for next year. I want to do a better job of finding material that my students will enjoy and will want to research and learn about after class. I had a few articles at the beginning of the year but quickly exhausted my supply and had NO TIME to find new articles and materials as the school year began.

Here I am, working out my mind on the page while students raise their hands to ask me questions. I love 6^th period, but today is a day for (as my NELP persona would have it) FREEDOM. Ironically enough, I’m teaching Cosby, Spike Lee, and Brown v. Board…

We had our initial TPR meeting with students this morning. I’m psyched; I charged them with the responsibility of accepting this $1500 opportunity and challenging themselves to improve.

Daniel’s coming this afternoon to sit for a JPS lunch and to speak with our CRCL kids.

Preston’s hard at work planning his foreign-language fair.

It’s a good day so far. A beautiful day, in fact, to be outside with a beautiful woman. To take a walk with a book and picnic on a hill. To live deliberately. With a song playing overhead and a kiss in the air. A good day so far. How New England of me…

Watching 16 fourteen-year-old freshmen actively reading a packet on Black history: highlighting, underlining, interacting with the text. Quietly and diligently working. Focused and intent.

Hannibal anybody?

2006-02-28T20:02:00.000-06:00

In light of my previous Blog, I must now add the following.

There Never was a Better Premise...

2006-02-28T00:15:00.000-06:00

"A pair of strangers, liberal high-school teacher Ralph Hinkley and right-wing FBI agent Bill Maxwell, have a close encounter in the Southern California desert one night with "little green men", who give our heroes a red superhero suit. The suit works only for Ralph, and the two, accompanied by Ralph's cute lawyer girlfriend Pam, reluctantly team up to battle criminals. Problems ensue when Ralph loses the suit's instruction book, so he had to master the suit's powers on his own."

Required Blog: Procedures

2006-02-20T21:38:00.000-06:00

Journal Writing.

Every student keeps a journal in his or her class's labeled & decorated milkcrate stored beneath the front side table near the door. Upon entering the classroom, students grab their journals, distribute a few to some friends/neighbors, and then sit in their assigned seats before the bell rings (a strictly monitored and clearcut tardy policy is key).

A different (and I like to think provocative/entertaining/informative) prompt is written on the same part of the board every day. Students always know where to look, and always know what to do. The pens come out, the bell rings, the announcements blare, the students scribble in their journals. Sometimes I provide a word limit, sometimes time restrictions. Sometimes the energy is palpable; sometimes I've completely missed the mark.

I walk the room, greet individuals, monitor progress, distribute papers, etc.

When students finish, they copy down their HW from the front board, they correct the day's DOL, and define or study vocabulary words. The timer rings, the journals are methodically passed back to the milkcrate and re-shelved beneath the side table. It is then that the Khakied Wonder opens his fat yap: Review! Preview! Relevance! And we're off discussing today's lesson, correcting the DOL, and learning, learning, learning...

Students have a safe place to write, students practice writing from a prompt, the teacher has time to get organized. Also, this really helps to block up the time in 90-minute blocks. Occasionally, I don't have a prompt on the board, and the kids know to expect a pop quiz on these days. The routine works, but the difficulty I'm struggling with is burning the kids out on writing -- because, on the one hand, they know that I am not (and cannot!) reading/grading everything they write, and on the other hand they start to resent the "pointless" daily writing.

I remind them about state test requirements and the importance of writing fluid prose, but I still feel that I could be doing more to teach them writing -- instead of just setting them loose to write and to "figure it out for themselves" essentially. I'm starting to pull the ropes in and to focus them more on paragraphing, sentence structure, etc. Next year, I'll try to tackle these issues in September, but time has its way of slipping away...

A Follow-up Email

2006-02-14T19:46:00.000-06:00

Let it be known that I sent the previous email (see prior blog entry) last night. Then, today, I got my 25th student in English III. And I bet you thought I was just being facetious! MLI responded encouragingly, so I ripped off the following email as my prep-period slipped away this morning:

Please share my comments with whomever you please, but bear in mind that they are only the observations of a first-year teacher -- and an outsider at that. I hope that my criticisms/insights improve students' Summer Reading experiences.

MoMo may disagree with me here (we've been going round and round on this issue), but I think "dumbing down" the required texts would be a wonderful (though probably not necessary) first step. Just as you and I will never truly appreciate a physics dissertation, we cannot expect sixth-grade readers to self-motivate and comprehend text at an advanced level on their own. Plus, how much sweeter it would be to have students actually ENJOY their Summer Reading books (e.g., My IB freshmen LOVED _The Outsiders_. Recognize, though, that this book is often read in a sixth- or seventh-grade curriculum).

Given that altering the book list is probably beyond your reach, I highly recommend weekly reading group meetings because there's strength in numbers and unity of purpose; structured reading assignments (week by week, day by day); group activities to involve the students in what they are reading and who they are reading about; opinion pieces to write so that students can interact with the stories as thinking INDIVIDUALS; student-oriented, teacher/parent-led introductions so that the books are well-received in advance of reading. Basically, TEACH THE BOOKS. Don't just drop them off in June and pick them up in August. Give Summer Reading value; visibly and constantly prioritize it, and students will come to value it as well. I leave room here for MoMo to soapbox on "valuing books" and "valuing a literary culture" (i.e., reading).

In my opinion, no more than 20% of Jim Hill's students read on grade level (and it's probably less than 15%); this includes all the IB students I've met. Shocking though it may sound, MCT, district, and NAEP scores mete out my observations. At present, Summer Reading is a well-intentioned but horribly supported and largely devalued experiment that preys upon the inabilities of our students. Every English teacher knows how to "play the Summer Reading Game" when it comes to buffering test scores with fluff grades. How else could someone who receives three test-grade zeros pass English for the term/semester/year? And this, by the way, only further confounds students' already tenuous grasp on mathematics: 0+0+0=84.

The bell just rang,
Mr. KP

An Open Letter -- Re: Summer Reading

2006-02-14T19:41:00.000-06:00

The Mississippi Learning Institute at Jackson State University solicited my opinion on the district's mandatory Summer Reading Program. The parent-coordinator is attempting to create a Summer Reading Support Group for rising sophomores. She inquired; I responded:

Since you've CC-ed me, I'll respond with my observations -- recognizing that they are only my observations and that they do not represent the entire school.

I teach one class (24 students today, maybe more tomorrow) of eleventh-grade English. In my opinion, most of these kids read at or below an eighth-grade reading level. Maybe one of these 24 students read the required three summer reading books; maybe 3-4 students read ONE of their required summer reading books in its entirety. Test scores were abysmal. No one passed; the highest grade was a 54 (I believe). Summer-reading projects and book reports were awful as well -- most were blatantly plagiarized off the internet. Again, these are only my observations from my one class of regular eleventh graders. [It should be noted that I currently have several students in my class who transferred to Jim Hill in August and who were exempt from summer-reading requirements.]

Students certainly lack books for summer reading (but that's what libraries are for). The larger problem seems to be that the books assigned (_The Chosen_, _The Crucible_, etc.) are not even remotely accessible to culturally-illiterate vacationers at an eighth-grade reading level (What is a Jew? Who was Hitler? Where is Massachusetts?). Students need teachers to learn -- to make literature and history comprehensible and relevant. Summer reading fails because the assignments are not enforced at home (It's not as if parents were reading books alongside their children -- as a teacher would.), students have no daily incentive to read, and students have nothing external to keep them on track (i.e., reading 20 pages per day) -- and little intrinsic motivation to read "boring books" during the hot summer. The students are asked to do something very difficult for them and given little (if any) assistance. Instead, they are handed comprehension tests. In my opinion, the rare child who passes these tests is either very bright or has made ready access of sparknotes.com, etc.

I think you'll find that most rising sophomores read at a sixth-seventh grade reading level. Again, my opinion -- not fact. But here's your answer: could an average sixth-grader spend the summer COMPREHENDING _Fahrenheit 451_ or Elie Wiesel's historical reality or Anne Moody's vivid experiences? Not alone. Especially if he never tries.

I think your idea is a very good one. I hope this helps you; I'm sure it's nothing you don't already know,

Mr. Khaki Pants

P.S. I've CC-ed Mr. MoMo (the other outspoken Teacher Corps teacher at Jim Hill).

Expiration

2006-01-31T22:23:00.000-06:00

Today was "amazing" (to use the word I've most recently usurped from Mr. MoMo). [Incidentally, I get called "Mr. Mo" at least once a day...] But, today -- even with the original Mr. Mo out sick -- was, nevertheless, despite all obstacles and illusions to the contrary, amazing. From lows to highs...

Firstly, bad news of the day: Coretta Scott King's death. And the immediate updating of her biography. It's so odd how that happens; a woman dies and instantly the information is catalogued -- before she's even cold... Regardless, thankfully, I do not "lesson plan" per se, and so have plenty of freedom to incorporate her passing into our next class.

But, today brought better news: My best student trailed a Clarion Ledger reporter all day, sitting in on a city council meeting and working with him at the paper afterward. I've yet to speak with her, but the reporter seemed thrilled with her interest and his role. If I'm not mistaken, she'll have an article published in tomorrow's paper... Score 1 for Mr. Khaki Pants.

2: Today was the first ever meeting of the Board Game Club (about which I could speak at length). Principally, the kids enjoyed Monopoly (two simultaneous game boards), Clue, and Mastermind. Boggle and Stratego were made ready for next week. My goal: to get these kids thinking critically and analytically, using math and strategic thinking skills to beat a game. Let's hope my chess/checkers/backgammon boards arrive soon. And I cannot wait for a 6-way RISK war! Rule #1: no calculators when playing Monopoly... argh!

In conclusion, let's go to first period, right after the announcements: I grow tired of hearing the same "we can succeed" bullshit day in and day out -- the constant promise of success, the constant vocalization of what it "means" to succeed, the ever-present pretense of understanding success. So, I whip out Emily Dickinson's "Success is counted sweetest / by those who ne'er succeed" and we're off to the races. And it is only by 3pm that I realize what my subconscious had done: I'd accidentally/intentionally found the poem that summarizes the contrast I've been harping on... Namely, in the suburbs no one speaks about becoming a doctor, lawyer, businessman, success, millionaire, etc. -- they just do it. It's an inevitability that no one really thinks hard about. It's assumed, and life moves on. But HERE, with "those who ne'er succeed," it's on every lip, at every turn.

Pet peeves of the week: (as heard in Mr. Khaki Pants' classroom)
1. "I can go to the bathroom?" [Is this somehow a question?]
2. "I be saying that..." [I now collect a penny each time I hear "I be." The class with the fewest pennies earns a pizza party (paid for with the other classes' pennies.]
3. "They was fittin to..." [Next on the penny collection list...]
4. "This book is boring..."
5. "This book be boring..."
6. "Boring."
7. "This book is not interesting."
8. "Interesting."

9. Persistent student complaints about any/everything.
10. My own shortcomings as a teacher: specifically, my lack of familiarity with literature, stories, biographies, articles, texts that are interesting to intelligent, inner-city, African-American ninth-graders who read at a seventh/eighth grade level.

Tired though I am, I'm excited by the prospect of tomorrow's Civil Rights & Civil Liberties meeting at Saint Andrews (the private school across town), involving Anna Quindlin's most recent editorial. Wowsers! [p.s. the response I heard on the radio was a resounding: "First is the worst; the worst is first." Anyone who understands what this means is welcome, nay, ENCOURAGED to explain...]

I'm gladdened, too, at Mr. MoMo's energetic tackling of "nutrition."

I'm wary of attending Thursday's "presentation" at Jackson State, whereat we Teacher Corps, alternate route philomaths are asked to speak, regarding traditional v. alternate route certification. Needless to say, the audience response will not be warm... ["First is the worst; the worst is first..."]

In conclusion (again), parent-teacher conferences next week, sex the week after, and away we go!

McCourt

2006-01-22T23:08:00.000-06:00

I should be writing songs and stories – playing with words and fiction – for the aesthete. Instead, I write Lesson Plans to entertain children, to educate the left-behind…

I try reading Teacher Man, but it makes my head spin: there are still so many plans, uncertainties, notes-to-self, and observations in my head, that to hear them coming from another’s lived experience is extremely confusing. I’m getting my memories and plans muddled with his. I’m confused about where my story stops and his starts or vice versa.

I have to put the book away until summer...

Slow-Mo Friday / "Go to College"

2006-01-20T21:59:00.000-06:00

Where I grew up, “everyone” wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer. Here, everyone wants to “succeed” so that they can “be a success” and “make lots of money.” Obviously the first is a hyper-exaggeration of the reality they’re surrounded by: rich parents, doctors up and down the block, etc. But the other is what? The exact opposite of everything they know – and nothing they could possibly understand; in short, nothing realistic…

Kids know that (according to their peer groups) they’re not supposed to care about what other people think, but they clearly do. I recall that (“back in my day”) the popular thing to do was to care about what others thought – to verbally and clearly fit it. Here, my students brag about not caring what others think of them. Yet, they obsess and brag about deodorant usage, hair brushing, new clothing, et cetera. Desperate to “fit in” despite their obstinate counter-claims.

Also, students here are obsessed with getting back to their “roots.” Getting to the core of who they are. Both ethnically (black, African, Native American, Asian, Latino, white) and geographically (my daddy’s from Louisiana, my grandma’s from the Delta, my mama’s from Chicago).

Aggression, defense. Physical strength.

Classes are half-attended; there’s a basketball game today. Against Provine…

Q: “What do you plan on doing after school?”

A: “Go to college”

Q: “Which college?”

A: “College.”

“Why do you want to be a businessman?”

“To be successful.”

“What does that mean?”

“To be a success.”

“Okay, but doing what?”

“Being a businessman.”

“And what does a businessman do?”

“Walk around in a suit, with a briefcase and ride in limos.”

“And what does a businessman do with his time? How does a businessman make his money?”

“Do business and things.”

“Like what?”

“Making money and being successful!”

“How?”

“Selling things to people for millions of dollars.”

“Good. How does he buy the things that he sells for millions? Where does he get the money from?”

“I don’t know. Working—“

“Where?”

“Burger King. Saving up.”

“Saving millions?”

“I guess.”

And so it goes…

Sometimes it is best to pretend you didn’t see something (the kid flicking his wrist like an NBA star, sliding his eyes to check my reaction). Other times, you need to demonstrate the “eyes in the back of your head” as a teacher, seeing and hearing everything – showing that you supervise and care...

Required: My First Semester

2005-12-11T21:38:00.000-06:00

The mystique is gone. No more, “Wow, wouldn’t it be neat to be a teacher?!” The aches and drudgery have crept their way in. I love the teaching, the kids, the flow of learning – especially after school. But what I don’t love are the hours I lose. I wake up, I drag my ass to school twenty minutes late and then BOOM, I’m home again 13 hours later. My mind is chunked-full (I like this expression) of ideas, but my reactions are slowed, my lids heavy, my brain dulled, my senses needing a rest. My legs sore (from standing!), my belly empty. I type constantly; I’m like a general (I’m not sure exactly what that means; I wrote it several days ago and think it’s odd as hell). Nothing I say is novel or particularly interesting – even to me. I feel like a Khakied shell. This blog is horrible. No imagination. All wit drained dry.

There is much I could do to be a better teacher – especially later in the day. Grading papers is hell and a half. I hate it; I really, really hate it. Never do I feel like I’m wasting myself and my life more then when I am grading papers – what the hell am I even grading them for? I digress.

I feel long over the hump as a teacher – especially since my EEF-bought supplies arrived the other day. I now have 120 black dry-erase markers, and 72 colored dry-erase markers. Not to mention 35,000 sheets of paper, 4 staplers, an industrial hole punch, construction paper, and enough post-it notes to cover the floor (thrice over!). Clubs are going well; classes are chugging along. The biggest measuring stick: I now feel comfortable failing students. For the first nine weeks I was extremely wary of failing students because I knew that I hadn’t done “a teacher’s duty” to help that child pass (i.e., phone calls home, remediation, one-on-one conferences, etc.). Now, however, I am ready and willing to fail 10-20% of my students because I feel confident in my ability to justify every grade, to address every parental tirade, and to answer every challenge. In short, I am empowered – even if I don’t yet know where to get a bulb for my overhead projector…

The semester has gone by quite quickly, and I really have nothing to say in this “required blog.” As far as EDSE 600 goes, it was largely a waste of time. I’m glad to have seen my cohort on the weekends, and I enjoyed my solo drive to Oxford because it afforded me the opportunity to do nothing but think – without guilt. I could just drive and think. Unfortunately, EDSE 600 did not offer the same opportunity. It was mostly hoops and nonsense.

I appreciate the handouts and did find some of the discussions helpful, but this class did not address my most salient issue: time. I would’ve loved to do something proactive, or at least to engage in forward-thinking thought, in class; but that was not to be. Again, I understand that a master's degree requires work, and if that’s the attitude, then fine. But the class was billed as a toolbox, and it most certainly was not. Help us or burden us, I don’t care. But don’t bait and switch.

Required: Summer/Fall

2005-11-30T23:39:00.000-06:00

I am still a stubborn ass. I am still uninterested in my graduate work. I am still displeased with public “education.” What does that even mean?! I am much more convinced that underserved kids are getting a raw deal, whammied from all sides: poor parenting, awful teaching, inconsistent and powerless administration, turn-the-other-cheek legislation, and insufficient funding. I still don’t believe that a first year teacher should put his or her head in the sand and forget about the big picture. Consider this an affront to the August reunion debate and the “you’re not social reformers” standby, or the “one child at a time” mantra. I cannot wait until next year! (When I – hypothetically – have more time to address these issues, to attend PTSA meetings, to confront administrators and teachers more directly, to wear my heart on my sleeve.) As is, I’ve founded 2.5 after school clubs, and have an extremely workable classroom environment. We’ll tweek the hell out of it after New Years, but this is working out just fine…

I was more “me” during the summer. I had a personality that didn’t need to be edited. I often wonder why I now have a job that doesn’t allow me to say “fuck it” or “shitacatsass” when moved to. I am not fully satisfied being a classroom teacher. Too much investment for too little return. All of me is poured into this “project” that only I understand, and 30 years later I might get a faux-gold watch. Highs and lows. Manic.

My summer blogs are me: impudent and bare breasted. This plot-vomit, “here was my day honey” bullshit has been killing my long-distance relationship and sucking the spark from my soul. Sarah tells me to read Emerson every day. She knows me. This… fuck it. I don’t care enough to keep writing about this fucking prompt…

Everything I wrote over the summer sparked of life and invention and an eagerness to live and to learn. What’s left of me now? At the end of a day of work except stories that are only interesting to me?

Required: Success at Sea!

2005-10-31T21:08:00.000-06:00

I’m still alive. This blog is a success story: the fact that I’m working a “real job” and still managing to write something intelligible semi-nightly (even if “publishing it online” has become a hassle). In the classroom, I’ve had many successes. Student trust would be number one. I could babble about details, but the big picture gets lost in insignificant details that well-intentioned buffoons misinterpret. My students trust me. Class by class:

My honors kids are rising to the challenge. I will continue to raise the bar as the year progresses. I don’t want kids to drop out, but I don’t want the majority to suffer either. I slam them with expectation. They respond.

My Oral Comm kids are taking risks and daring to speak publicly, to “play pretend,” and to “look foolish” in front of their peers. I believe that, despite themselves, they are enjoying the oddity that is my classroom. Sometimes, I smile.

English III – well, “success” seems to elude me here. Administrative rescheduling and inconsistent attendance make this class a bureaucratic joke (or nightmare); I do my best, but these kids shouldn’t have passed English I, rendering the textbook utterly useless to me and inaccessible as hell to them – unless of course I wanted to bore them through Jonathan Edwards and Thomas Jefferson: texts well beyond their comprehension and nowhere near holding their attention. Unfortunately, there doesn’t really exist a book targeted at them: adult interests in drug, sex, and violence but with an appalling lack of word-recognition, textual analysis, and basic comprehension skills. Sure, vocabulary is a major problem, but it’s far deeper than that. No matter what they read, there’s bound to be many words they don’t. That’s fine. If I had hours to cull material, eighth period life would be another matter… If I had spent my summer prepping myself to teach them literature. An eleventh grade text book is useless… if I intend to make literature interesting and accessible to them, I would never think of starting there…

Required: Deductive/Inductive

2005-09-30T21:02:00.000-05:00

I love inductive teaching. I love forcing students to reason and to think ahead of me. I like giving them clay and watching them sculpt. Unfortunately, this seems damn near impossible right now. I can’t be the teacher I want to be because I have to be the teacher they most need. And what they need is spoon-fed information (I think – isn’t this exactly the problem though! We bore them with “information they need”?), constant checking for understanding, review, review, review, and many, many repetitions.

Here we confront my teaching philosophy. I’ve long-thought that inductive teaching would be the best way to re-enforce a lesson – not least because it requires the student to own the material in a highly personal way. BUT, my doubts now arise from prerequisite skills and time management. To start with the latter: we have nine months to cover several years of never-learned material. Every second seems of the utmost importance, and so I micro-manage, focusing on efficiency and productivity at every turn. Straight-forward deductive teaching is “faster.” God, I hate that justification, but it’s true. I’m in the rat race despite myself!

“Prerequisite skill” is a tougher quandary.

Firstly, is it “necessary”? Does “inductive learning” require any “prerequisite skill”? Probably not. I imagine that a good, experienced (I occasionally use the two synonymously, though I ought to know better…) teacher could teach anyone, anything inductively. But, what about a classroom of 30? Doubtful. At the very least, it requires a degree of classroom management and student trust/rapport that I have yet to command – well on my way though I may be.

Deductive teaching is a quick, direct onslaught of knowledge. A functional teacher ought to be able to teach a moving lesson, re-enforce it with examples, and then let the children loose on individual or group work. The experience should be fun, engaging, and “to the point.” Unfortunately, too many seasoned BAD teachers use this tool to bore children to death, period after period, year upon year. These are the Charlie Brown Teachers of America. Too many of us have had CBTAs that have scared us straight into “inductive teaching or bust” land. But I don’t have a sufficient repertoire of tricks to sustain day upon day of inductive genius. Plus I have too many students. Plus they need everything spoon-fed. They don’t trust me enough, and, unfortunately, they hardly trust themselves enough to recognize when a pencil needs sharpening – let alone to recognize their inner (Emersonian) genius.

In conclusion: there are three ways to teach. (1) Give your students raisins, until they are full; be careful they don’t puke on your shoes. (2) Hide the raisins before your students enter the classroom, and then spend the hour leading students from raisin to raisin. (3) Before your students enter, close your eyes and throw the raisins into the air. Then, spend the hour hunting for raisins with your students. I hope to be the third; I am loath to be the first. I believe I am currently the second.

Running on Empty

2005-09-29T00:18:00.000-05:00

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Philip Roth, Herman Wouk – kissing the literature and penning the proper nouns soothes me to everything. How I love a bookstore! I need to make time to disappear into one more often – even if this means buying less gas for the week! Ahhhh…

Their Choice

2005-09-27T22:38:00.000-05:00

I can tell I’m teaching because I’m butting up against the cultural divide – against the very factors (the ingrained factors) that are holding these kids back. They complain, “It’s too hard (actually, they say “its to hard”), Mr. Khaki Pants. We give up.” And I give them quizzes/tests/quests. Over and over again; and they’re starting to try – to push themselves beyond. Some classes have got it – almost. Others have a 61% average. But I promise them: there’ll be another quiz on this same material tomorrow! Until you know it; until you take responsibility for your actions, step up, do the work, and study. I will be happy to discuss literature with you, but you have to read it. Or fail. Their choice.

INSERT SCHOOL DAY HERE

[Unwinding while reading disciplinary essays] Wow! The attitude on these kids… Even the smart ones – hell, they’re probably the worst, thinking that they’re a know-it-all because they’ve never met another semi-competent person since they left the hospital! Wholly inarticulate, completely incoherent, meaningless babble. Rude, disrespectful, sassing. These kids whine and nag and complain! As if they were laboring.

The universe revolves around them and what they’re saying at any given moment. No matter what, they will not listen to anyone else or be anywhere but in their own world. Rude, rude, rude. They interrupt, shout, demand, and dogmatize. Thankfully, there’s ZS. She is the reason I became a teacher; the reason I came here. She and AS and ST and HW and RI and JW. These diamonds in the rough: so brilliant – who need but a bearded white rag to dust them clean and help them gleam. Six names I expect to see at the top of every honor roll. These kids will think. Will dig. Will outdo their peers, themselves, and me. I teach for these kids.

Right-hand man!

2005-09-26T20:13:00.000-05:00

Apparently the only thing that concerns middle-school English teachers in Mississippi is making sure that the children do not write beyond the right-hand margin on a page of looseleaf. Their grammar is atrocious, their spelling ungodly, their structure, paragraphing, and argumentation garbled, but – thankfully! – they’ve all got a nice straight column of words running vertically down the right-hand side of the (middle! [of the]) page.

I’ve never even noticed this right-hand margin before – never thought twice about running my words and my thoughts to the edge of the page. These kids fit four words per line! Mind boggling. A one-page essay starts on line twelve and ends after fifty words…

"Stop The World And Let Me Off"

2005-09-25T23:08:00.000-05:00

[listening to Kenny Chesney & Kid Rock cover Waylon Jennings's "Luckenbach, Texas"]

An extremely difficult personal adjustment: I’m a natural minimalist, desiring little beyond love and necessity, appreciating a sunset more than a mini-disc; meaningful conversation more than spacious rooms or flashy rims.

Now I find myself immersed in a student body craving material possession – the very opulence I’ve rejected for five years, eight years, who knows how many years… These kids want money, money, money. Justifiable because they’re essentially living on food stamps now. (The only people talking about the evils of money have it and never had a “Welfare Christmas.”) But how do I – in good conscience – push these kids into life with such an attitude, when I’ve seen the damage wrought by the rat race? When I’d rather communicate meaning and understanding?

Am I wrong? Surely, these children need job skills to better their station on the capitalist ladder, but aren’t I the wrong individual to push a unified, national, corporate, take-one-for-the-team agenda? How could I push a kid into the Pizza Hut Management Program? How?

Yes, it’s better than pushing dope or serving time, but – here’s the real question: How do I tell these kids, teach these kids, that money does not matter, that it ruins lives, when they are the very people who go without on Christmas, who starve if not for social programs, who pretend they have money by buying just-released sneakers, overpriced sodas, and flashy jewelry. Show me a kid without “diamond studs” or $100 in his pocket. Show me a kid not in debt already. Façade, façade, everywhere! And the school’s just as guilty, with its double-talk and unrealistic understanding of success. (“We’ll be 95% proficient this year.” No we won’t. We’ll be 40% proficient this year, if we’re lucky.)

The Question: What won’t an Emersonian disciple sacrifice for his underserved students? Should he even be here at all? With love so far away? With life on hold for this futile pursuit. Perhaps one student will “make it.” Will it have been “worth it”? Flush go the years; try not to pinch your nose too hard – your face will stick.

"Not a hint of (situational) irony"

2005-09-23T22:16:00.000-05:00

Though I may not have been recounting Gilligan’s Island episodes on the final days of school while grooving to Alice Cooper, I found myself without a lesson plan. Without a shred of preparedness – without a clue as to how I’d spend even the “Do Now” first 25 minutes of our 90 minute period.

So I taught. I improvised. I sparked with the spark that stirs children to life. And mixed metaphors. A devisive prompt: “Last year, only one IB student earned an IB diploma.” Add two parts Edgar Allan Poe: “I can scarcely look over this little cliff without getting giddy.” “So deeply was I excited by the perilous position of my companion that I fell.” Heat with adverbs until warm, cool with a vocabulary quiz, add a spice of discussion and inductive instruction. Then, discipline the entire class, motivate with ACT handouts & classroom questions, assign a book report summary, and smile as the bell rings at the perfect moment.

But the wonderful feeling of an empty classroom after students have perused dictionaries, internalized grammar, and smiled at the language. Then some rummaging through “official documentation” with two Assistant Principals.

My backpack collects paperclips – from stacks of papers that should have been graded weeks ago. And when exactly does a teacher really get to sit down with a student and talk – one on one, the way an administrator can? Football practice, the bus, other classes, a million activities more…

P.S. Pop Reading Quiz on Tuesday!

Dazed & Confused

2005-09-22T23:59:00.000-05:00

87 parent-teacher conferences in 8 hours. And, at some point, I ate lunch. I had resigned myself into accepting that this is what life had become: life was simply a series of conferences – a never-ending loop of conferences. There had never been a “before;” nor would there be an “after.” Just conferences. And then, suddenly, it stopped. Silence, stillness, 6:30pm. Where had the day gone? What about the hours I thought I’d have to prepare lessons and sit idle? Why was I so tired and hungry? Wow; this workingman’s world sucks…

Delight! Delight! Delight!

2005-09-14T22:45:00.000-05:00

Delight! Delight! Delight! Our objectives:

Grammar: Applying the comma

Organization: Assess Binders

Literature: Interacting with text (poetry & prose)

Complete Learning Styles Survey

Review Anne Moody (plot, setting, characters)

HW: (1) Bk Rprt Summary

(2) Finish “Interacting” with “Maelstrom”

(3) Review, Review, Review…

Today, I pretended that this was a school and that I was a teacher. AND IT WORKED! HA!!

Required: Evaluating Classroom Management

2005-08-31T18:26:00.000-05:00

The biggest amendment to my management plan has been adding a “checks infinitum” and a “teacher’s discretion” clause to my consequences. Students were too quickly violating rules and, according to my plan, I’d have to send them to the office for too many violations. But I’m not the type of teacher who’s going to send a kid to the office for chewing gum and not raising his or her hand three times. However, I am the kind of teacher who’s going to make that kid write 200 + 200 + 200 + 200 words for breaking classroom rules that day: hence, checks infinitum. A check by his or her name for every violation of classroom rules; every check equals 200 words. This way, I can reserve detentions and ousting for the truly deserving disruptions: fights, cursing, insubordination, etc.

Consistency is the major thing to remember with any management plan: nail the good kids as quickly as you’d nail the troublemakers, the girls as quickly as the boys. Otherwise, students pick up on any (perceived) favoritism, and the teacher’ll be in for an un-fun afternoon.

Finding that balance between teaching a good lesson (universally enjoyable, engaging, group work, kinesthetic) and maintaining a classroom environment is exceedingly difficult in a classroom of kids working well below grade level. When students don’t have the academic skills necessary to work in groups, what is a teacher supposed to do? Give zeroes? Teach “sit still and shut up” behavior? B.F. Skinner the hell out of them?

If my philosophy has changed, it has been coming to terms with how unprepared I am to teach students so unprepared for success in the real world (let alone eleventh grade English). I still believe that all my students can learn; I’m just not sure that many of them know what this means. They say, “I want to succeed; I want the best.” And, then, in the same breath, complain about doing anything in class. Then again, they are kids…

and justice for all

2005-08-19T21:29:00.000-05:00

“It’s getting better all the time.” Today was B-Day, and it was doable. Functional, even. Fun, even. Not that I’m taking it too far. I realize that there’s still hell to go through before I come out the other side… But consistency has been the lesson of the week: Punish the good kid who stands up to throw away a tissue as quickly as you’d punish the troublemaker who stands to start a fight. Otherwise, kids just see someone standing up, so they’ll join in. This is something I’m learning and working on – every hour, every day. Consistency.

the alpha female

2005-08-15T22:04:00.000-05:00

Teaching B-Day has become about deciding just how much disrespect I’m going to take. Unfortunately, I’ve accepted some level of discourtesy – be it as a passing comment, a minor infraction of protocol, or some other bullshit. How this happened is beyond me, but I realize what I must do: Break the alpha female. Unfortunately, this class had two. One down; one to go! And then there’s R… What to do with this boy – and I use that term because he really is just an overgrown child. A mouth and an ego the size of Manhattan, but he’s scared so close to the surface, it’s almost painful to see. The 6’-something ball of fear and nerves. How to get close to him? How?

weekend -- in the sand

2005-08-14T21:51:00.000-05:00

I’m not the “weekend-loving” type, but, Man, did I need this weekend! Just kicking it around the house and out with some Teacher Corps friends. Just mellowing out. Missing Sarah like mad, and sort of nostalgic for the pens I’ve given away (lent) to my students – metaphoric I suppose: My passion passed on to them; my career for theirs? Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. There’s, after all, such a thing as help without too much sacrifice – without losing oneself in the process of helping another. But am I capable of such a feat? A half-hearted pledge? Not to draw unwarranted comparisons, but Sarah’s friend was killed in the Detroit church… Sometimes, we never finish even what we’re doing today.

I hate that “head-in-the-sand” mentality that infects people – probably everywhere, but definitely down here. People seem wholeheartedly content to consider themselves to be doing “just fine.” But they refuse, refuse, to consider the country or the world at large.

Five Bucks and a Circuit Breaker

2005-08-12T23:54:00.000-05:00

I’ve been having mad problems getting a serviceman from my apartment complex to stop by my place to fix my refrigerator and stove/oven. Day in, day out, cold food, no food, dried food. Having taught most of my first week while living on vapors, and driving the Prism down to the wire, I put five bucks in the tank today and flipped the circuit in the breaker to make the stove/oven come on. Now, I’m enjoying a piping hot dinner. Oh boy, those kids better look out tomorrow! Here comes Mr. Khakipants better than ever!!

How cool are paperclips these days?! I never knew… All these wasted years…

Trying hard not to do anything too strenuous with my downtime…

In my head is this never-ending parade of “Mr. Pants, Mr. Pants! Mr. Pants! Mr. Pants!” I hear it, even though no one is saying it.

Add a child’s name to your extra-curricular club today, and he or she becomes the Poet Laureate of tomorrow…

Done with One!

2005-08-11T22:10:00.000-05:00

Well, technically, we won’t be done with our first week until tomorrow, but I am done with my first week of B Day! (Thanks G-d.) It’s just rough, teaching 3 different classes back-to-back-to-back. I think that’s it; I mean, I don’t need (or really want) a first period morning prep, and then the ninth graders are awesome, but then there’s lunch with Oral Communications. I mean, how am I supposed to reserve anything for those poor English III students? The literature is going to have to speak for itself.

Teaching fires me up, fills me with something – energizes me to keep pushing forward in life.

Break Me

2005-08-09T20:45:00.000-05:00

The day from hell, of hell, in hell – all that and more. Fifth period (first of the day in our A/B block) prep, 6^th period more IB. And then came 7^th period Oral Communications I.

They try to draw you into conflict, to get you to stoop to their level, to push all your buttons simultaneously, to do everything imaginable (and much you’d never think up on your own) to irritate you and assert themselves. The attitude on these women! One girl actually snapped, “your beard is bugging me, it’s all like…” and she ranted on it for a minute. I looked at her, shrugged and said, “I’m sorry to hear that,” and then continued with the lesson.

Of course, I wanted to tell her what I really thought but chose, instead, to take “the high road” and avoid the unnecessary confrontation. Plus, how could I kick a girl out within the first 20 minutes of class? I don’t know her name or school procedures; neither do I want the administration thinking that I can’t handle my classroom. The battle now is for the rest of the class; as Ben says, “5 of them are going to listen, no matter what. 5 are going to act up no matter what. The other 15 are up for grabs by either side.”

They don’t listen, they don’t want to listen, they don’t know how to listen. They’re just waiting to speak – more appropriately: they’re just speaking, all at once, about nothing, very loudly. And, as soon as I gave them permission to speak (this being Oral Communications!), they silenced right up.

It’s sad to say this, but for at least an hour I wanted to give up. To pack up and leave town, to forget all about those fucking kids! To lead the life I was meant to live in higher education or some beat farmhouse with the woman of my dreams in a world full of knowledge, art, imagination, love, joy, and literature.

How great it would feel to exercise – to push my body even a little bit, even a tiny fraction as much as my nerves and patience have been tested.

Genesis

2005-08-08T18:31:00.000-05:00

Woah! Just like that, I’m back in high school again! As if I never left the atmosphere, the thinking, the essential juvenileness of the place. Here I am, forever in high school. How strange to think that the past seven years have led me back to a high school… On the other side of the desk, but nevertheless: High school is high school. And that’s a strange place to spend one’s time!

Already teachers are MIA – taking sick days and personal days before anything’s begun!

I realize that college professors are a fairly big preach-to-the-choir group of people. I mean, who are they really teaching, if not largely likeminded, upwardly mobile individuals? I’d prefer to be the Democrat in a red state, the white kid in the inner-city school, the guy who changes other people’s minds…

I Bite My Tongue (All Day Long)

2005-08-02T21:36:00.000-05:00

Sarah leaves. More precisely, I drop her at the Red Roof Inn Room 214 where she greets her mother and step-father. They head, Michigan-bound, along the Natchez Trace. Love’ll be “staying” in Boston by mid August. Choking on 7am tears.

My morning spent cheering teacher standards, successes, and accountability at a Jackson Public School (JPS) Convocation at Jackson State University. I wonder what happens to “bad teachers” in a district with so many vacant positions and am thoroughly unimpressed by the crowd’s overwhelming sense of achievement: Why does everyone feel so successful in a district boasting some of the poorest performing high-school graduates in the country? For a split second, someone (among the myriad speakers) alludes to district “problems,” but the issue swiftly subsides to more praise and pro-teacher joy. I am grateful that Christ’s name isn’t invoked – though G-d and church certainly are…

Sitting on stuffy buses is not fun; meeting the faculty is. Thankfully, Dave shares his contraband PB&J! The morning balances out (Kay Francis Toliver is amazing! I so want her videos…), even if the day feels largely wasted: I should be setting up my classroom, writing lesson plans, and photocopying handouts.

At least there is a vegetarian option for lunch.

Then Dave and I examine our respective classrooms. I resolve to solve my 20-computers-in-the-classroom dilemma. (Imagine that! Here I am, teaching English in an underserved school district, and I have 20 [questionably functional] computers in my classroom – in my way! Needless to say, they were not in my “classroom plan” and cannot be relocated to another room. As such, I must adjust.) Stacking chairs, sliding desks, lifting computers begins today. Soon enough, I’ll rewire cords, untangle lines, and rearrange the room. I do believe it’ll work out fine! (Assuming I can scrounge up another seven desks to accommodate all my “expected” [term used loosely] students. I guess the number is a mere administrative “suggestion.”)

Then some thoroughly worthless afternoon discussion about state testing statistics (read: failures). Basically, the school did not do well (the vast majority of students were not proficient) and did not improve from the year before (in fact, did worse). Marvelous. If this news weren’t disheartening enough, we spend ninety minutes (conservative estimate) dissecting this “data,” manipulating this “data,” and reconfiguring this “data” – as if it were ever going to be anything but saddening. In the end, we choose to praise our history department and some minor biology gains, and to largely overlook the appalling incompetence of our English and Algebra students. The superintendent had challenged us to achieve a roughly 60% proficiency rating by last year – roughly 75% by this year. We are so far off the mark, that I have a better chance of winning back-to-back Olympic gold medals in figure-skating (or dwarf tossing, for that matter). Fairytales, really. I suppose the only thing to do is to pass the challenge off to the students – to get them caring about their test results, staying late, working extra hard, buddying up, and cracking the books. The problem: Why would they care? A “basic” score earns them a diploma, so why, then, care about “proficiency”? It offers them no (immediate) tangible reward.

Finally, a “Welcome Ninth Graders!” planning session and an opportunity to discuss TPR with the principal and her purse strings from the Mississippi Learning Institute.

Dave and I head out the front door, he smiles and chirps, “I hope every day we work for twelve hours.”

Amen.

A Second Self-Evaluation

2005-07-12T20:11:00.000-05:00

We had to videotape and evaluate ourselves again (for a grade). Here are my observations:

I took much joy in watching my gesturing and body language -- both seemed very instructive, which I wasn't expecting and I'm not sure I can explain. They just looked right, for the role I was playing. Similarly, good vocal variations in volume made me happy.

I need to speak slower when giving directions for HW. The HW is so clear in my head, that I need to be extra clear of my expectations so that I won't get (1) frantic phone calls from confused students or (2) blank papers the next day. Detailed directions need to be written clearly and read slowly. As such, I am trying -- and will continue to try -- to assign HW with 10 minutes left in the class. We'll see how this works, but so far it has given me sufficient time to close and to give students ample time to start their HW in class before the bell rings. I think students will appreciate this "reward" for good classroom learning. Especially in a block schedule. I also need to develop a plan for HW collection. All these details come pouring out of the woodwork (an idiom?) the more one "practices." Also, seeing oneself on film is a good wake up call for the boring teacher. I'd imagine. ;)

I need a second dry-erase board in the classroom; but I already knew that. For an English teacher, I find my boardwork to be very structured and methodical: Students will surely know what to expect -- organized chaos, manifest on the board. Thank you Princeton Review! My writing on the board seemed neat and organized.

The tape showed me doing a decent job of staying on task ("nouns," in this case) despite student efforts to discuss adjectives, Plato, etc. Normally, I'd want to seize these moments -- call them
"teachable" -- and run with the tangent, teaching all the while. Apparently, this is bad form; (I call it spontaneous teaching!) and should be squelched with lesson plans and objectives at every turn. So, this "skill" has found its way into my teaching style: I STAY ON TARGET. One hopes that this benefits the students more than it irritates me... Baah! Shackles... In this way, utility wins out, even though the brilliant tangent suffocates.

In conclusion, this evaluative experience has taught all of us a lot about teaching, presence, and boredom. We've all sat through crappy classes and brilliant classes; hell, we've all taught a few of each. I believe we've all grown exponentially for the experience. I know that I need to shore up holes in my classroom, concerning vocabulary amassment, calling students to the board, and finding a good time to enforce binder organization (e.g., can a teacher penalize a student on day 3 for not having the proper supplies? On day 4? In any case, what happens to the handouts (syllabus!) and notes taken during the interim?)

Live and learn...

How to Cook

2005-07-12T20:00:00.000-05:00

As predicted: "Great suit, no tennis shoes." A ZERO for professional dress. Man, have I learned my lesson!

Again, my most beloved activity was impromptu: rapid-fire pointing and shouting verbs. All of 20 seconds long; but a lifetime of memories...

MTC: An awesome group of caring, intelligent, dynamic, forward- and free-thinking individuals from across the country committed to providing a better today for under-served children in Mississippi's public schools.

An observation:
Mississippians complain, "No one taught me how to cook."
And then oppress you for importing an oven...

Then again, what the hell do I know?

"But On the Other Foot..."

2005-07-11T18:37:00.000-05:00

(Thanks Randy!)

Start giving in to inane demands (“don khakis or else”), and there’ll be insane demands (“wear your friend’s shoes or else”)… Soon enough, it's a perm and a shave for Old Mr Khaki Pants. This is simply "The Man" trying to exercise proximal control on a terrific teacher. Me. It’s bullshit, I know it’s bullshit, and I have no intentions of cowing to it any longer. Not once have I heard tell of a teacher failing to teach proficiently because of his or her footwear. And I cast aspersions on any individual with a counterclaim; I don't care if "this is Mississippi" and if it is "different down here." Get over yourself. This is, as I was so jocularly reassured in early June, still The United States of America. And, as a friend of mine is fond of saying, "Yeah, it's different down here; you've had your heads up your asses since 1840."

Bottom line: Mississippi's public schools are among the worst in the nation. The schools need competent teachers not prima donnas. So, for MTC, I'll take my ZERO in sneakers. And if the school board comes a-calling, I'll make it clear this fall exactly what they're throwing away. [It should be noted that I have no problems (well, maybe not "no problems" -- but certainly "few") with MTC's enforcement of this "perceived standard;" my issue is with the standard itself -- not the messenger.] This is the same superficial idiocy that makes high-school seniors care more about penmanship than literacy or, dare I say it: what makes Bill Cosby so right. Lest we forget, the man has a PhD from the University of Massachusetts and has written on education for years.

So let’s put the emphasis back where it belongs: in an English classroom, that’d be on literature and the fantastic individuals (oh, now there’s a word! Jonathan Swift, infamous conformist… sober Poe, phony Salinger, and sane Woolf… oh my these paragons of formality!) that have given us their genius. But, then again, what the hell do I know about teaching? Ah…

Eyes on Me; Pens Down

2005-07-09T11:49:00.000-05:00

As if testifying to my last blog, the most effective and highly-regarded aspect of my mock "First Day of School Lesson" was "Eyes on me; pens down." A phrase I spontaneously invented (or at least spontaneously remembered from 10 years ago). I yearn for extemporaneous lesson plans and the excitement and challenges found therein.

Unfortunately, I was script-tied for most of the 40 minutes yesterday -- but did manage to impromptu a bit (thanks to unruly "Eat Me" students, tangential conversations I couldn't help but initiate, and student concerns about grading, etc.).

My Fault, Sir?

2005-07-07T19:00:00.000-05:00

Increasingly, I feel that my success as a student in the Teacher Corps has much less to do with my academic effort and ability, and much more to do with how others (unfairly? [That is the question.]) perceive my work. Perhaps it's foolish to desire an objective standard against which to measure the educator, but how beneficial is it for me to feel that my academic success in no way hinges on whether or not I work my hardest, do my best, and deliver an effective lesson? This evaluation process feels so colossally subjective and unpredictable that I have no confidence in my ability to sufficiently "correct myself." In fact, I fear that each evaluation will pull me farther from myself, and who knows what this will do to my teaching ability? The goal: to improve and to learn. But today: I am struggling to perform something that has always come natural. I am regressing.

I have never been nervous in front of a crowd -- well, not since puberty, anyhow. I'll address a group of 5 or 5,000. My confidence has always come from the crowd's positive vibes and an inner calm. But now... I don't know... Standing in front of a class feels wrong -- as if I can do no right in the presence of an evaluator. "Tough shit; deal with it." Right? And I agree. "This will make you a better teacher in the end." Fine, I trust MTC to see down the road. But, today, to be trite, I feel like Sisyphus on my endless chore. No matter the effort I put forth, I will always fall short. I will always be judged, critiqued, and assigned a number. I feel no positive vibes in a roomful of evaluators out to trick me. For every bar I hop, hoop I jump, there are six more obstacles on a different track that no one has mentioned. The only person on my side is me [sic]. And I don't know even know where "he" is anymore.

My inner calm is gone. As I've written before, while teaching to an evaluator (instead of to my students' needs), my every thought turns to lesson plan and procedure. Instead of feeling in control of the lesson and on my toes, I am ceaselessly beleaguered by nonsense: If my focus on the lesson is superb, my set will have been too short; if my objectives are awesome, my handwriting will bomb; if my shirt is tucked in, I'll trip on a shoelace. Self-doubt, self-doubt, self-doubt; and where this comes from, I have no idea, and I find it neither productive nor helpful. In fact, it's breaking my spirit -- devouring the good teacher inside me. The passionate educator who loves literature and children and communication. Who thinks on his toes and can correlate any tangential conversation to literature or the writing process or English. The more I read about Mississippi or from In the Deep Heart's Core by Michael Johnston, the less confidence I have in my ability to teach, in the futile task of teaching English to illiterates, in my two-year commitment to secondary public education (anywhere). Hell, I could (should?) be teaching freshman comp. classes at any university in the nation, et cetera.

But, then again, Johnston must've persevered. He's had an inspiring career in education, despite abysmal beginnings. So I soldier on tonight. Writing lesson plans I don't believe in, spending hours fine-tuning meaningless details that I shouldn't give a shit about, practicing and planning for a lesson that would be much better off-the-cuff. Aren't I supposed to care more? To look forward to school? The irony! In my humble opinion, I would be a better teacher if left alone to read literature all summer (say, The Norton Anthology of African-American Literature) and to interact with students rather than evaluators. However, I know my Mellencamp... "I fight authority, authority always wins..." Oh, but I do fight!

I'll let MTC continue to break me down because I trust they'll build me up stronger. I guess we'll find out in 4 weeks... Man, I feel like shit...

London Blasts

2005-07-07T12:11:00.000-05:00

Why, if the first blast happened at 2:51 am, Mississippi time, was there no word of the coordinated attacks on morning radio? Songs played as usual...

Self-Evaluation

2005-07-05T01:21:00.000-05:00

I really dislike watching myself on film – always have. Now, to self-evaluate…

I am loud; that’s for sure. I look and move as if I were on speed – especially juxtaposed with student lethargy. I walked the classroom constantly and consistently for 60 minutes, without seeming nervous or aimless. My wandering looks natural and, to me, presentable. One of my strongest strengths (ha!) is my ability to seamlessly and easily integrate humor and joy into the lesson at hand. I never realized how smoothly my jokes slide into the lesson or how effectively I am able to press on with the lesson before students get out of control. I am constantly in charge, in control of the environment – even while allowing for “chaos.”

Some criticisms: I need to raise my voice and stiffen its tone when “I’m serious” about giving classroom instructions. I could hardly distinguish an “I’m serious” tone or inflection on video.

Like any teacher, I click the marker top – not habitually, but too often.

I spend way too much time guessing at what a student might have said and need to spend more time pestering students to enunciate and project. Mine was the only consistently audible voice on the tape, and my facial expressions were laughable as I struggled to decipher the teenage mumblings. A good activity might be to have students shout answers to a partner across the room during some special group work.

I need to wait longer after asking a question (This was mentioned as an aside during my formal evaluation.) so that students have sufficient time to interpret the question, think of an answer, and raise their hands. My conversational style needs to allot for the fact that high-school students aren’t as quick to react or as swift to opine as university students and professors.

I’m not sure how well under-achieving high-school students can understand and follow me; I speak so quickly and have learned to correlate topics so readily that I fear much is lost on the kids. Fortunately, I ask “explain what I just said” questions, instead of “who doesn’t understand” questions. At least, I try to.

I have to make especially sure to explicitly write out important information on the board. Unfortunately, I am really painfully slow at copying material from the book onto the board. I need, either, to copy onto the board before class or to have a student read aloud for me to copy.

Everyone should see him or herself teach on video. Eye-opening…

School Boards

2005-07-03T02:54:00.000-05:00

What does a school board do? I had no idea, so I asked Jeeves (www.ask.com) and found the following in a blurb entitled “Why School Boards”:

Your school board looks out for children – first and foremost. Education is not a line item in your school board’s budget – it is the only item.
Your school board is the advocate for your community when decisions are made about your children’s education. The school board represents the public’s voice in public education, providing citizen governance for what the public schools need and what the community wants.
Your school board sets the standard for achievement in your district, incorporating the community’s view of what students should know and be able to do at each grade level. Your school board also is responsible for working with the superintendent to establish a valid process for measuring student success and, when necessary, shifting resources to ensure that the district’s goals are achieved.
Your school board is accessible to you and accountable for the performance of the schools in your district. If the schools are not producing, it is your right as a voter to select new board members who will see to it that your students and your schools succeed.
Your school board is your community’s education watchdog, ensuring that taxpayers get the most for their tax dollars. Public education is a $423 billion business. In the majority of districts, school boards have taxing authority. That direct oversight – and responsibility – should not be given to politicians whose first priority is something other than education.

Who knew?! And, apparently, there’s sharp debate as to the necessity of school boards. I won’t pretend to know more. But I do wonder why more teachers or young people don't serve on school boards: Teachers providing the inside-perspective needed to restructure inefficient policies and appoint effective superintendents; youth being the key to energizing and invigorating these bodies with fresh ideas.

Whenever one sees a photograph of school board members, they are always five or six well-intentioned quadragenarians, looking corporate and legislative. But, then again, how “sexy” is it to serve on the school board? The position appeals to socially-responsible, civic-minded parents and businesspeople. Not youth on the rise.

With long hours spent prepping, teaching, monitoring, counseling, grading, and juggling, the teacher becomes too drained to benefit the school board. Even energetic, idealistic young teachers need rest – need a break from education. Or else: Burnout. The ideal educator never beats the buses out of the parking lot but neither should he or she destroy him or herself every day in an effort to do everything simultaneously. So I guess that leaves the kind-hearted, financially-secure, middle-age folk to save our public schools.

It bothers me that, to join a school board, one needs only the mayor's appointment or an election victory. No background in education, no managerial experience, no prior community involvement necessary. Just being at the right place at the right time. No guarantee of having a “most qualified applicant.” But, then again, who wants the job?

Homeroom

2005-07-02T12:42:00.000-05:00

What the hell does a homeroom teacher do with 30 kids for an unspecified period of time? Teach them? Discuss current events? Assigning homework and grades is clearly out, so what “positive incentives” exist for listening and obeying? “Silence or Detention” – so much for positive consequences!

What does a homeroom teacher do to maintain order and control over a (definitionally) chaotic classroom? (By its very existence, homeroom is a designation indicating that: “We school administrators have fucked up, have forms to complete and details to iron out; so, we are sending a classroom full of students to every teacher. No teacher will know what to do – because we don’t know what to do. And since we’re in charge, we just want to share the SNAFU. Enjoy! With love, Your Boss.”)

The Luckiest One

2005-07-01T00:15:00.000-05:00

How I’ve benefited from 3 weeks spent watching three marvelous MTC student teachers. The many approaches, wits, and avenues. We’ve each stuttered and come up short; we’ve each rebounded with human-interest stories, humor, and genuine teacherliness.

The student-teaching experience was a good taste but hardly filling. I wanted to stay late with those kids, to call home for those kids, to go the distance with those kids. But I couldn’t. Every time I got cooking, it was no longer “my turn.” And so kids were passed from one of us to the next. I got to know a few, but I passed too many more off on other student-teachers, saying to myself, “Oh, Ms. X can take care of that student.” This is a dangerous habit.

We had some students exceed all expectations when they buckled down and did the work; we had other students come up short time and again. Below-average reading skills, writing skills, and learning skills were heartbreaking to witness. A classroom full of students (15, 16, 17, 18 years old), struggling to pass ninth-grade English. And to be honest, I don’t know why they still care at all. For some, it’s military service; for a few, it’s junior college; for most – I have no idea. Something (maybe family? maybe not) pushes them on. This was mind-boggling. And I've seen this country.

I’m not 22 and fresh out of university. I’ve had time and adventures to balance myself and my ideals with reality and the “outside world.” I've had time to rebound after my liberal arts education, to steady myself against conservative blowhards, to cut my teeth with real-world accountability, and to feel confident about my footing and who I am. I feel smarter, better, and stronger for the years I spent traveling and learning on the road -- in good company.

I cannot imagine all these just-graduated-last-week colleagues of mine. They are amazing. I cannot imagine jumping from undergraduate life into the world of responsibility that teaching is. But this cohort -- these teachers -- are amazing. So smart and idealistic, so ready to combat injustice and to make a difference. For so many, this is a first job. And I am daily encouraged by their enthusiasm. These young teachers are going to be outstanding. And I am the luckiest one in the lot. Every day for a full month, I've been in the company of emerging greatness.

This student-teaching experience has reaffirmed my dedication to children and to MTC. For years, I have been waiting to teach high-school English. Only 5 more weeks to wait…

Cold Calling

2005-06-28T23:51:00.000-05:00

I have seen the technique used several times by different teachers. Initially, I found the technique (each student’s name is written on an index card, the stack is shuffled, and names are drawn at random to answer the teacher’s questions) to be silly. [I should mention that my comments have only to do with my teaching philosophy and personal preference and are not at all criticisms of others. I have certainly seen teachers use cold calling to their advantage. But still I persist with my denunciation.]

First of all, it is a stymie to the free-wheeling exchange of ideas that any good English class (I feel) should be. The teacher must constantly think about the stack of names, must constantly return to the stack of names, and is thereby reduced. In my estimation, a teacher is one who stomps freely about the classroom, free of restrictions: neither tied to desk nor bound to book or notes or board. Gone are the days when Ms. Smith sat reading aloud behind her textbook for the hour. So why artificially recreate this?

I value hands free teaching – the teacher who can capitalize on every “teachable moment,” who is unshackled everywhere because of his or her confidence, knowledge, and adaptability. Cold calling squelches creativity, liveliness, energy, and flexibility at every turn. Because, instead of thinking three steps ahead of his or her students; instead of anticipating brilliant questions; instead of masterfully guiding the learning towards crescendoed transitions, the teacher must constantly remember to pick a name at random from a stack of cards propped somewhere. Heaven forbid a teacher calls on a student deliberately or out-of-turn! What if a student looks confused, can I say something, or must I wait until his or her name pops up on my magic list? I must, after all, be fair.

Why? Are teachers really that blind? Am I really that blind? Surely some students speak more than others – but this is not a problem. And the solution needn’t be to handicap oneself (as teacher) with index cards but simply to remember to call on the shy ones. Not so draining a chore! Walk the room with your feet, and pepper the room with your questions. Some kids more readily volunteer; others need prodding. Cold calling dulls and dumbifies. Each name surprises both teacher and student. Why is this valuable? Let the teacher choose who to “pick on” for each question and who to have “review what was just said for the rest of us.” That’s the teacher’s job: to reinforce learning by knowing who needs to improve what.

Additionally, cold calling has the teacher asking a question and then drawing a name. But this is wrong! So wrong! What happens when the toughest question posed is set before the uncomprehending student? As teachers, we ought know better than to place such an obstacle. But even if the teacher picks a name first, the flow of the class is interrupted and the eye-contact has been disrupted so that teacher could fumble with note cards.

A teacher’s head, hands, and priorities are sacrosanct.

To me, cold calling is the by the book, inflexible, braindead, skullousally boring relic of starchy educators past. Its artificiality stymies classroom flow and living energy. It disrupts the learning by its very nature: phoniness. And education should be anything but phony.

One Final Semi-Related Note:
I’ve seen teachers address students by their last names. And I like the formality. Mind you, the forced formality. But nevertheless. My question, however, is plain: Doesn’t this make for awkward parental meetings and phone calls home? “Hello, Mr. Smith; I’m Mr. Khaki Pants, Mr. Smith’s English teacher…”

On Formal Evaluation Day

2005-06-24T20:28:00.000-05:00

Thirty minutes to open, teach, close, and evaluate a lesson is ridiculous. Not to mention unrealistic, forced, and phony. Especially a lesson intended for summer-school and Special-Ed students. Kids ask questions: that’s the nature of learning and teaching effectively. Preplanning and posturing to the extent required for our grade is, in fact, preparing to fail as a teacher. One becomes stuck in lesson plans rather than living in the lesson. But what the hell do I know about teaching?

I spent so much time thinking about my step-by-step procedures that I lost total focus of the overall effect, the overall learning, and the students’ ability to keep up with my words. My thoughts had nothing to do with what I was saying, listening to, or seeing: all focus was spent trying to photo-recall what I’d written so eloquently in my lesson plan. (Self doubt: “Am I on step G or H?”)

That’s the bullshit we shouldn’t be concerned with. We should be asking: Are they getting it? What are they doing? NOT “What am I doing?” Because what I do as a teacher varies directly with and is causally related to what they are doing or failing to do as students. They get it, I move on; they need help, I slow up; they need leadership, I lead; they’re leading effectively, I just nudge the wheel ever so slightly and tap the pedal.

“Do you understand me?
Repeat back the instructions I just gave to you.”

For more opinions on Formal Evaluation Day, please see Word Documents “502 Feedback” and “Formal Evaluation Concerns” once I manage to post them.

Reluctant Disciplinarian

2005-06-18T22:01:00.000-05:00

I found some useful tips from this book (call parents without warning, be direct and to the point, have kids take a proficiency test on Day 1) and was entertained with the light read. However, I wasn’t particularly moved by his narrative and was seldom surprised by his “discoveries.” I would’ve preferred to learn more about his latter years as a successful teacher – to read humorous anecdotes from a “teacher of the year.” Lack of details and a breezy tone made me not care that much about what he was saying or how he was saying it, so I just read for helpful tidbits.

I think it’s an important book to have MTC teachers read – if only because of the humor. Everyone leaves that book thinking, “Well, I can’t suck that bad!” And for this reason, it inspires.

I often felt like a bigger picture would be more helpful. On the whole, Reluctant Disciplinarian was not my cup of tea, and I really have nothing to say about this book, but I had to blog on it for a grade. Don’t get me started…

A Trio of Brio: Many Williams Wandereth [sic] Here

2005-06-12T01:52:00.000-05:00

What fundamental misunderstanding about the world has led we cohort of 28 to believe in social justice? Have we educated mass of khakis and skirts learnt nothing from ancestral vendettas paid back on sleeping babes? Sins of the fathers revisited on their children? Do we not read the papers, digest the magazines, and study the history? Haven’t we heard enough of war and savagery, death and violence, poverty and deprivation to realize that such travesties are – to flambastically misapply Congreve – “The Way of the World”?

Math teachers tape geometrical patterns to the floor, science teachers eat saccharine mitosis lessons, English teachers flip frantically through human frailty. Hoping to find that one lost poem, that long lost line, that forgotten friend in a sea of so many familiar faces. But to the student, not a one means a thing. What time for star-crossed lovers when someone has stolen the amplifier from your truck, the baby from your belly, the plums from your icebox?

Or are we best in grand Romantic visions? Unable to imagine any reality but that of our imagination, we lie to ourselves, pretending to see that which is not there. That which probably never was here on the banks of the Mississippi, overlooking generations of stills and shallow graves. "If only I can stay here long enough," "if only I can squint my eyes just so," "if only the world were a better place," then... oh then everything would be right, here on the banks overlooking this wonderful Southern Baptist "Abbey"?!

The Rest of James Meredith

2005-06-10T17:10:00.000-05:00

Everyone remembers James Meredith as the face of integration at the University of Mississippi in 1962 and the architect of the March Against Fear in 1966 (during which he was shot). But people don’t mention that James Meredith later earned a law degree from Columbia and that…

“He was an active Republican and served for several years as a domestic advisor on the staff of United States Senator Jesse Helms. He made several attempts to be elected to Congress as a Republican. He became increasingly conservative and in 1988 accused liberal whites of being "the greatest enemy" of African Americans. He also opposed economic sanctions against South Africa and making the birthday of Martin Luther King a national holiday.

“In 2002, on the occasion of the 40th anniversary of his desegregation of the University of Mississippi, at the age of 69, he was the proprietor of a small used car lot in Jackson, Mississippi. On the celebration activities surrounding the 40th anniversary Meredith said, "It was an embarrassment for me to be there, and for somebody to celebrate it, oh my God."

“James Meredith views himself as an individual American citizen who demanded and got the rights properly extended to any American, not as a participant in the US civil rights movement. There is considerable disrespect between James Meredith and the organized Civil Rights Movement. Meredith once said that "Nothing could be more insulting to me than the concept of civil rights. It means perpetual second-class citizenship for me and my kind".

“In an interview for CNN, Meredith stated, "I was engaged in a war. I considered myself engaged in a war from Day One. And my objective was to force the federal government – the Kennedy administration at that time – into a position where they would have to use the United States military force to enforce my rights as a citizen." ” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Meredith)

Not to detract from the man’s accomplishments; merely to set the facts straight.

Spare the Rod?

2005-06-08T02:12:00.000-05:00

“There’s an easy solution to every human problem: neat, plausible, and wrong.” -- H.L. Mencken

Dr. McConnell looked at me squarely and said that if he were a principal and if I were preventing another teacher from dispensing whacks to a student (to a child!), he would try to have me fired.

Corporal punishment may be in the culture today, but am I supposed to “accept it” and move on (as many here think)? Or worse: participate in it! (Fortunately, the Jackson schools don’t allow it – but what about the children two towns over?) What can I do? Should I do? As an outsider – a cultural observer – at this point?

Dr. McConnell’s words sound hollow: “You are teachers, not social changers. Teaching your students is your job.” Apparently teaching students something other than ass-to-paddle violence doesn’t count as teaching. Apparently teaching students to solve problems without resorting to blows doesn’t count as teaching. Apparently teaching students about life outside of books doesn’t count as teaching.

Of course, I see his point. As educators, we must focus on the curriculum and state tests. We must not lose focus by expending energies on time-consuming and spiritually draining pursuits. Yes, he is trying to spare us the heartache and hardship of fighting against such an ingrained, socially-accepted form of discipline. Yes, he wants us to teach kids to read, write, and add. Of course, he has the students’ best interests in mind and years of experience at his fingertips.

But it is a mistake not to think of ourselves as social changers. Weren’t the MTC founders social changers? Aren’t we but a newer link in the chain, with more advanced objectives? Furthering the process begun before us? I refuse to believe that my role as educator ends when the bell rings or is bound in a textbook.

But what is my choice? Step in, ignore relativism, impose a universal, condemn local ethics, and feel better about myself? Surely I must “learn” about this “strange new place” before judging it, but how many crimes must I witness before I’m “ethically able” to take a stand – without seeming (or being) the Yankee with his nose where it don’t [sic] belong?

Presently 23/50 states permit corporal punishment. (This note was added much later, but please see Brian Hawkins’ report for more information.) Change starts somewhere.

Ike's Day Day

2005-06-06T22:00:00.000-05:00

61 years and counting... we do what we can:

http://www.fallenheroesmemorial.com/oif/base.html

Don't let conservatives monopolize G-d and our military!

Sellout

2005-06-05T20:00:00.000-05:00

A first breath of southern hospitality: Magnolias surround the warm, wet parking lot. Welcome to Mississippi. Our first night on the town at the most integrated movie-theater I’ve ever known. Welcome to Mississippi. My first sweet tea served by women and African-Americans in a white-male-owned fried-everything establishment. Welcome to Mississippi.

My reasons for being here are made plain in my application essay.

I’ve joined the Mississippi Teacher Corps (MTC) to be helpful: to teach and to study. To me, teaching high-school English is hardly corporate banking, Wall Street, or fashion modeling. In a world where “appearance,” “image,” and “façade” prevail over “meaning” and “substance,” surely a high-school English teacher needn’t be overly concerned about his or her appearance. Surely what s/he knows, how s/he teaches, who s/he inspires should matter more.

Apparently not.

Apparently, in pursuit of an off-the-beaten-path, alternate-route teaching certificate, I have stumbled into yet another profession that takes itself too seriously. But the decision is easy, I am here to teach – be it in a rain-slicker or cardboard box. I ditch the denim and become “Mr. Khaki Pants.”

But I am keeping my Hawaiian shirts!