56.

I'm back in the classroom after a six-week stint of primarily mentoring a student teacher, and it feels great.  Kids are wonderful.

Today, we kicked off our poetry unit by discussing Bob Hicok's "In the Loop," a haunting piece about the Virginia Tech shootings.  The first time discussing a poem in my class is important to me because I want to emphasize that we talk about poems because it's a good thing to do: it helps us understand ourselves and each other better.  We don't just do it because we're trying to understand a rhyme scheme.  Approaching poetry this way makes it less intimidating, too.  In fact, I introduced the poem by saying that it was one I read this summer and couldn't stop thinking about.  I brought it to class because I wanted to see what they thought and see if they could help me answer some of my questions.

(If you haven't read the linked poem, go do it now.  It's worth a minute of your time, and you need it to participate in the next section.)

The simile that makes everyone think is the scarf on the train.  I got my wish that I would have more clarity after discussing this with my students because they had so many great ideas.

"Maybe the scarf is the shooter, and it's like, how no one really sees a scarf left behind even though the train is going.  Like life is moving all around him and no one sees him."

"I think the train is like how life just has to keep moving forward, like a train going to its stops.  But when you leave a scarf on a train, you're really sad at first, but then you just get over it.  Like most people in the country were really sad at first about the shootings, but then they just got over it and moved on."

After our discussion, we walked to the library to renew books.  Two (not particularly studious) boys in one of my classes whispered all the way down the hall about lines they were thinking about in the poem, lines they thought they had "figured out."  To see them so excited, thinking so hard about words: that is why I teach.  Kids make poetry fresh.

55.

In my writing elective class, we are beginning a poetry workshop.  I'm also trying to help the kids build a writing community and play together, so they'll feel comfortable sharing their work with one another.  Take a few minutes here and there to play now can make a huge difference in our productivity later on in a class like this.

The students are in four teams, writing examples of poetry terms on small white boards.  One team, which named themselves "Dumbledore's Army," has instantly bonded over Harry Potter, and every example they write down has something to do with Harry Potter. The current term: metaphor.  (If your figurative language terms are rusty, it's a comparison without using "like" or "as.")  The white board reads as follows:
Dumbledore is a pillar.
Umbridge is a toad.
Snape is a greasy frying pan.
Voldemort is a snake.
Nagini is actually a snake.

They could hardly get through the last one without busting up laughing.  While I agreed that it was a very clever addition to their board, they did not earn a point for metaphor.

54.

I know I never really signed off for the summer, but I'm back with stories from a new school year.  I'll try to post a wee bit more consistently than at the end of last year.  :)

Today, in an afternoon section of English 9, barriers came down.  I know it sounds dramatic, but it was dramatic.  It is scenes like this one that I live for in the classroom.  This class has a high proportion of kids that struggle with English and kids that lack confidence in writing as a result.  Students brought "Where I'm From" poems today, and I asked them to read them aloud in groups of four.  "Be brave!" I said, and each group member was to note at least one strong word choice in each poem read aloud.  After they'd had time to read and respond to each other's poems, each group had to choose one poem to share with the large group.  This poem could be read by the poet or by another group member.  

In one group, Chris, a student who has been a bit disruptive and surly for the last week shared his poem, which had great imagery and dark undertones that weren't present in some of the other poems.  The group agreed that Chris's poem should be shared, but Chris didn't want to read it.  Another boy, Dane, volunteered to read it for him. (Dane and Chris couldn't be further apart in terms of social circles and attitudes toward school.) Chris's face lit up and he agreed immediately. 

As the class applauded for the anonymous poet, Chris beamed.  

There were two other poems shared, written by students who lack confidence in writing, and they responded in the same way. I felt like they had a moment of thinking that maybe they could be successful in this class, in school.

As the students filed out of the classroom, Chris made his way to Dane.  "Thanks again for reading my poem," he said.  They had a genuine, unscripted moment of human interaction.  I was lucky enough to be there.

53.

So, I took a long break... and I'm about to take another long break from kids (4 days to go!), but I had a moment today worth sharing.  Not that I don't have moments worth sharing other days, but I haven't felt like writing them all down the last couple months.  My dear friend Donna has been trying to take the word "should" out of her vocabulary.  I suppose I followed suit a little and waited for the desire to come back.  I'm sorry I'm a lazy blogger.  Anyway, here's a story.

Yesterday we were reviewing for a test over our final short story.  I try to write broad questions about stories when I'm checking for understanding because I was always a kid who did the reading and who forgot the details when it came to reading quizzes.  We almost never have reading quizzes, so yesterday I read my students a question so they had an idea of how specific the questions on the test would be.  It was actual #5 on the test today, and they knew this.  I told them none of them better miss it.

Today, during the last class of the day, a student raised his hand.  I approached him and looked over his shoulder.

"I'm having a problem with one of the questions.  I'm not sure about it," he said.

"Okay," I said.  "What's your question?"

"I'm just really confused on number five."

He waited.

I read the words on his test, and as my eyes scanned over number five, he broke into a grin.  He couldn't hold his poker face any longer.

This humor, the end of the year connection, when every person is the building is counting down the days until summer, is the gift of working with teenagers in an environment you help create.

52.

It is conference week, friends, so it's very busy.  I have a quick story to share.

I always say that I am about building life-long readers, not life-long test takers, and I design my reading instruction that way.  I try to make reading a privilege and invite kids to try new books they might like.  I try to make close-reading a good experience to have so we can learn something about ourselves through literature--not so we can guess someone else's interpretation.   Students ask questions instead of answering them.  This is not always the best type of reading instruction for test preparation, and this year's political climate has make me second-guess what I'm doing--not a lot, but certainly enough to lose a little sleep over.

So I really needed this parent last night.

I needed her to sit down at my table and say, "I don't know what you did, but Luke is a reader now.  He asked for books for Christmas--full of small print and historical facts.  When we asked him if he was sure, he said, 'Yes.  I want to read about it because I want to learn about it.' He goes to his room at night to read for a half hour.  He never did these things before.  So thank you."

Luke would not be doing these things if my reading instruction were made of multiple choice questions to answer.

51.

Today we shared books with each other as a break from the difficult research essay writing we've been doing and as a way to jazz up our independent reading.

We used the format of a book pass, where students all bring a book (I also threw several in from my classroom library and the school library), and we pass them around in small groups, giving kids a chance to have exposure to 50 or more texts in a single class period.

The discouraging thing about teaching is when a couple students in each class go through the motions of looking at a couple books in each basket and then sit with a blank page in front of them.

It gets more encouraging when students with discerning taste walk out with three or four books on their lists.  They will have a book on the back burner, and maybe they will even look forward to it.

My favorite part about a book pass, however, is when students (and this is at least a third in each class) are just hungry for reading material, and they write down 20-30 books.  One student in my last class of the day couldn't wait to check something out from the classroom library: she had to take it home that night.

A hunger for books is what I hope to instill in as many students as I possibly can.

50.

I spent this evening with the delightful Ted Kooser, who reminded me of some tenants of teaching poetry and writing.  I plan to share them with my students tomorrow, and thought I'd share them with you tonight.

On teaching poetry and the experiences he wants kids to have with reading poetry:
"I want them to take pleasure it it.  The minute the poem begins to become a problem to solve, it's over."

On writing:
"I think we all ought to be writing about our families."  He said something about a memory you'd scribble on a piece of paper and stick into a drawer.  Years after the family members are gone, someone finds the piece, and "all of a sudden, back into the light they come."

"I love to write about the most ordinary things there are."

A glorious, refreshing evening.