Why we gotta do this: A book review

I finished the book I’ve been reading this week earlier today, Why Do We Gotta Do This, Mr. Nehring?: Notes from a Teacher’s Day in School by James Nehring, and I have to give it my highest recommendations for any junior high or high school teacher (although it will be more topical for the latter). It is a very compelling book, equal parts narrative and commentary but all contained within a narrative framework that is very approachable. Nehring does a great job of telling the story of education – not a history, but the way things are. I say “are” because I don’t think things have changed a whole lot in the 20 years since this book was written and published; in fact, if you replaced all instances of “Walkmen” with “iPods,” there would be virtually no dissonance with the reality of education in 2009.

There is much that can be said about Nehring’s commentary – perhaps the most important part of the book, although the narrative is entertaining and engaging – but I want to return to that dreaded question that I wrote about a few days ago*.

 

What I know after the first day

I know that I will have to watch out for my two biggest classes (which are still smaller than almost every other class I’ve taught before now) because they will have a tendency to run away with me if I’m not on my game.

I know that I will have to watch one of these classes in particular because of a high male-to-female ratio. (I had a similar composition with my problem group of seniors from student teaching, so I’ve experienced how bad this can get.)

I know that I will have to watch the other class because, well, they’re seniors.

I know that I have leverage over both my seniors and my juniors: the seniors need to be ready to step out of high school in May and into college or “the real world” (and by that, I mean “the workforce,” most likely), and the juniors need to be ready for the PSAE/ACT in April. Both groups know that they are way behind the curve, generally speaking.

I know that I will need to be strict in general.

I know that I will have to make at least one significant change to my novels elective: I got complaints less than a minute after handing out syllabi about reading The Scarlet Letter because the previous teacher taught it to juniors. There goes another book, and worse yet, it was the first one I intended to teach. Looks like Of Mice and Men will be first up instead.

I also suspect (what, did you think everything was going to be certain here?) that I will end up teaching one of the chick lit novels (Jane Eyre or Wuthering Heights) because my novels course is virtually all girls – only two boys at the moment, I think. Still working on getting Frankenstein, but something makes me think that won’t cut it.

I know that the Easy Button™ I bought last semester was probably one of the best investments I’ve ever made. (Remarkably, one student was very confused about the purpose – or lack thereof – of the Easy Button™ and presumed that you had to make a wish before you hit it.)

I know that I will have to watch how I respond to the smart-alecks in my classes that make me respond with sarcasm, something that my principal explicitly warned against. (But come on, it’s hard to respond with anything other than sarcasm when a student notes that he goes by Joe, “with a J.” I guess I need to be more self-disciplined and to keep my razor wit sheathed for more appropriate moments.)

Best of all, I know that I can do this: that there are students who are looking forward to learning from me, that I have incredibly supportive colleagues and administration who are looking out for me, and that I can manage to keep things together. How well I keep together – well, that will be the test of my time this first year.

Look out tomorrow, I’m coming back for more.

 

How to do inspiring things with an uninspiring curriculum

Join me for this innovative and highly educational webinar at…okay, perhaps not. Probably, if I could fully demonstrate how to do inspiring things with an uninspiring curriculum, I wouldn’t be blogging about it here. (Then again, maybe there’s a philanthropist in me somewhere – after all, I’m not in teaching for the money…)

I think most teachers, at least in the early rosy-eyed days of their careers, want to inspire students. (Some teachers may have lower expectations about how many students will realistically be inspired: the student who is inspired by integrals or conic sections might be rarer than the student who is inspired by the poetry of Emily Dickinson or the fiction of Kate Chopin.) Yes, education is our primary goal, and of course we want students to develop greater academic prowess, yadda yadda, but I think there’s a deep part of us – the student part – that remembers (if it has happened to us, and hopefully it has) being inspired by teachers to love literature, language, history, the human body, nature, chemical reactions, etc., and that “inner student,” until it is stifled by the outer cynic, sits on our shoulder whispering, Hey, you make these kids feel the awe of what you do. You gotta make them understand why you love what you do. Be that teacher.

And we all start out wanting to be that teacher. We know what good teaching is from having had good teachers, and (as an education professor of mine uncontroversially pointed out) no one goes into teaching wanting to emulate the awful teachers they had.

Okay, that’s good – make the students understand why you love what you do. But what if you aren’t inspired by what you’re going to teach?

I found out last night that I was having trouble finding my own Muse for a course as I was planning the first week of classes. (I find that poetry writing and lesson planning actually aren’t all that different – you have to have a grand vision, direction, and some creative drive in addition to the structure and execution of the thing. At least, you do if you want to be inspiring…) With all of my classes, I started off saying, “Where is this course going in the long run, and what would be the best way to get us started thinking about it?” For my senior world lit, the answer was culture; we will be doing an autoethnography project in the first few weeks, and there is a lot of analysis of our own cultures to get us thinking about how culture and literature intertwine. For my sophomores, the idea was to invoke universal themes, facilitated by my (somewhat) inspired idea to have students discover the sort of themes that emerge through a more approachable medium for them: songs. (Think about themes that transcend musical genre: Do we only hear about unrequited love in country songs?) Even for my juniors (perhaps the most difficult of the three), the idea of challenging notions of what makes literature “American” provides a jumping ground into Native American creation stories.

And then I got to my novels course and thought, Wait, what direction do we have? We’re reading a bunch of mostly unrelated canonical novels…

And my inner student whispers, Hey, just because it’s an elective doesn’t mean these kids don’t deserve to be inspired…

And I wonder how I will find my Muse in material whose only substantial connecting thread is the length of the works.

————————————————————————————————————–

Like so many things in teaching, I don’t think there is an easy answer to my proposed idea. It’s hard enough to inspire even a majority of students with the most inspiring material – some students just aren’t easily impressed – but doing it with a lackluster curriculum presents an additional handicap. Maybe there’s a reason why the wizened cynic starts shouting down the inner student; maybe it’s easier that way.

All I know is that there’s an insistent voice still urging me on, and the only thing I know how to do is to listen – and think.

 

Another wonderful surprise

I’m typing this from my new classroom on my own computer (which I finally have access to, thanks to our great tech guy), and my principal tracked me down to inform me that she volunteered me to be on the curriculum planning committee.

Boy, they don’t know the meaning of “trial by fire” around here, do they?

(To be fair, I know why I was put on the committee – I’m the representative of English at the high school level, and English is one of the areas that the school needs to focus on given that our PSAE scores from last year were…well, let’s say that they were lower than hoped. So part of my responsibility is to get students back up to speed on these skills, which means that I probably should be on the curriculum committee.)

On a less sarcastic note, I got the chance to meet a few of my students today (both of whom expressed how awful the last teacher was and how poorly she was treated as a result – good thing the bar isn’t set too high), and the mother of one – somewhat to my amusement – warned me about her own child’s tendency toward dramatic mood shifts. And the phrase I’ve heard so many times in this school – “be strict” – came up again as well.

I think I might need to be strict or something.

One thing’s for sure: This is not likely to be a boring assignment.

 

It really is true: Writing as discovery

I guess it’s taken the creation of syllabi – which is almost finished, thankfully – to make me understand something about writing that I’ve seen before but also very recently: sometimes writing is not merely about clarifying ideas but about discovering them.

I have to admit to myself that until very lately I have not entirely known what I am going to do with some of my classes. Some have been better than others, and with the sophomore and senior classe especially, I have had to discover the material in order to determine what I want to teach from the materials I have. (What my co-op once said is true: Don’t worry about having all the background knowledge before hand – you can learn whatever curriculum you teach, and I think it’s even true when you are the one putting it together.)

And so it is with my writing elective, which has been vague and somewhat ill-defined almost from the beginning. I asked for clarification once and was told that it was more of a creative writing course than a research-intensive one, so I have strayed away from a major research paper (although I will likely incorporate some aspect of research into a creative piece). Other than that, I have little to no idea: no background on what has been done in the past, no course listing or blurb to indicate the direction of the course, and (as I noted earlier) no text to organize my thoughts around.

So I sat down tonight with my syllabus template in front of me, which has worked excellently for three other courses, and I thought about the course objectives as I was writing a description. Quickly, what emerged was a vision of a course that gives attention to multiple modes of writing, using a code-switching model to focus students’ attention on the importance of understanding how language needs to be shaped by considerations of purpose and audience. I listed things I want students to have had experience with: personal and reflective writing, communicative writing (which could be informal or formal), creative and expressive writing (fiction, poetry, etc.), and even a little of professional/technical writing, like formal letters.

And now I feel like I’ve already taught the class. Lesson ideas abound to me; I feel like this course will virtually write itself.

It truly is a unique discovery to make, especially since it is one that I can hopefully pass on to my students. And more importantly, now I am one step closer to securing my broad plans for this year, which itself is a discovery worth celebrating.

 

Ah, the joys of sudden realizations

I’ve finished writing three out of my four syllabi (I’m writing a joint syallbus for the two semester-long elective courses), and as I start the fourth, using the same overall format as the previous three, I realize something important.

I have no writing text at all for my writing elective – at least not that I know of.

If my suspicions are correct, I start teaching this elective in…2.5 weeks.

It’s a good thing I consider myself flexible and that I already have an idea of what I want to teach. Although, it will mean that I’ll be scouring sites for ideas on how to incorporate outside material.

Update, 8/1/09: I was in my classroom this morning, and as I looked around, I ran into a creative writing folder that had been used for this same course by a previous teacher. There were references to a book I had seen in a cabinet, and I was able to find a very small class set of them: 10 or so books. Of course, the class size will probably be small, so I’m going to try and use them. If nothing else, I can make copies of pages for any students beyond the number of books I have, and that will save me some trouble.

Even better, the text is somewhat organized in the way I worked out on my own. Synchronicity, I guess.

 

Suggestions, or, Why I might be setting myself up for frustration

I continue to finish up planning my curricula: honing in on the major projects that I want to do for each course, matching up key assessments with state standards and descriptors, finishing my syllabi (which I think are clear and honest). I feel good about this.

I come home from work and find a letter from my superintendent, one which has been sent to all returning and new teachers. It contains the agenda for our teacher institute the first day of school (before classes start the following day) and…a list of suggestions from the spring?

I think, Okay, this should be interesting to see what the teachers thought could be improved. Maybe I can get some idea of what I’m in for.

I was at least right on the last part.

 

Progress report

Okay, it’s been a few days since I’ve updated here, and it occurred to me today that I will begin my professional career officially five weeks from tomorrow (and will begin teaching the following day). Where am I at? Here’s where I stand in terms of progress.

 

Rounding the corner?

In preparation for Independence Day events (and being a musician, I’m well-occupied with performing), someone remarked to me that the Fourth marks the halfway point of summer. I think this is about right: I have only about 5 more weeks of work before I have my open week to make final preparations for the beginning of the school year on August 17th. That’s only six weeks to get the rest of my curriculum planned and to get my organizational stuff in order.

It’s a little scary.

I am almost done with my sophomore lit selections from the textbook, although I keep thinking about what skills would be useful to help 10th graders with so that they don’t have to be crammed so much into the last two years of high school, things like critical reading and thinking skills. I also discovered that I probably didn’t have enough literature from the initial units I picked, so I’m going through and adding some more, including a unit on “genre fiction” that will allow us to compare literature from a variety of genres. The first selection is a short story called “A Sound of Thunder” by Ray Bradbury – an excellent start.

As for the novels, I think I’ve got my selection nailed down to these works:

• Farewell to Arms
• Of Mice and Men
• The Grapes of Wrath
• The Crucible [Edit: Actually, this  is taught in junior English now]
• Animal Farm
• 1984
• The Scarlet Letter
• The Great Gatsby
• A Separate Peace

1984 is still iffy – I haven’t asked for a class set yet. (I don’t want to seem greedy!) Nevertheless, I’m going to try and work it out.

Edit: I notice that most of these works are American lit, with the exception of the Orwell novels, most are twentieth century, with the exception of the Hawthorne novel, and all of them are written by male authors. I hate to say it, but I’m probably going to end up teaching Jane Eyre or Wuthering Heights out of the necessity of another non-American, non-20th century, non-male novel. I know that there are others I could probably choose – and would prefer – but I have class sets of both novels currently. At least I can limit my chick lit selections to one novel. Further edit: OR – I could try to get Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein! That would be a brilliant and far preferable selection – it would be pre-20th century British novel by a female author, and it fits somewhat into the science fiction genre while still covering issues of humanity and the idea of anxiety toward science. If I can, I think I’ll try to get a class set of this one instead and possibly teach it right before Of Mice and Men, which to me resonates along the same lines (humanity, longing for acceptance).

I still have the semester-long writing elective and my senior English to determine, although I have a good idea about what I’ll do for both classes: memoirs, profiles, some form of professional writing (cover letter, resume, etc.), reflective writing, possibly a creative piece that incorporates research (following an EJ article by Linda Hammond on this subject), and of course some more conventional forms like essays, possibly including a college application essay, for the writing elective; an autoethnography project and probably some cultural projects for senior English, as well as a college application essay, a persuasive essay, and a major research paper (I will probably include a literary analysis essay in here, depending on what I decide when I get to know this senior English class better).

Maybe I’m halfway done, but I doubt I’m nearly half-ready. We’ll see.

Farewell to Arms

Of Mice and Men

The Grapes of Wrath

The Crucible

Animal Farm

1984

The Scarlet Letter

The Great Gatsby

A Separate Peace

 

There’s one down…

I have, to the best of my knowledge, selected the works for my junior English course. I think that the units will account for about 18-24 weeks of instruction just on literature, with some other speech, writing, and (possibly?) research units thrown in to round things out. I’m also leaving some space for added literature to be covered at the end of the year, giving myself some buffer room in case the units I have selected go long (which is not out of the question).

Still working on my novel selection for my semester-long elective course. I really want to teach 1984 since 1) I already have a class set of Animal Farm that I plan to teach, 2) teaching two Orwell novels would be a great way to demonstrate his style, and 3) I’ve already taught 1984 and have plenty of materials and a final project assignment ready to go. We don’t have a class set of 1984, so I’d have to try and obtain it, which might be tricky since I don’t know how readily funds for new books will come. There’s a possibility, though, that I might have until next semester to get them since (as far as I know – which isn’t as much as I should, sadly) the novels course is taught 2nd semester. I hope.

Also just finished The Crucible and The Great Gatsby (since I’m a horrible literature aficionado for not having read them before), both of which I enjoyed immensely. Next on deck as far as canonical novels that I will probably teach for this novels elective: Farewell to Arms (oh, Hemingway, how I adore thee: let me count the ways…) and A Separate Peace, which I hope is decent.

Additionally, I would really like to teach a YA novel for this elective course, but I don’t know if I’m pushing my luck even trying to get 1984, and I definitely put a higher priority on that than a YA novel especially since I don’t know which one I would teach. The Catcher in the Rye (is that even properly a YA book since it’s in the canon?), Whirligig by Paul Fleischman, and Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi (ooh, a graphic novel, how scandalous for a novels course!) are all books that I’ve considered that wouldn’t really be contentious (okay, Catcher might be a little contentious) and that I could possibly ask for a class set of one of them. I don’t know yet. (Leave comments with advice, si vous plait.)

I’m working on my sophomore lit selections now. I have a feeling that I will probably do fewer works of literature with the sophomores and maybe incorporate more research, critical reading, and writing activities to try and get those skills honed before they become juniors and start freaking out about ACTs.

Still left: senior English (yay for more writing and world lit) and the writing elective. Teaching creative writing is quite possibly going to be the strangest part for me to get figured out.

Can you (my ever-observant reader) tell that I’m starting to get a little panicked? (Critical reading exercise: Note three elements of this blog entry that indicate fear and mental breakdown. ) The school year is drawing nigh, and I don’t feel as confident as I should. Starting to finish up the junior course leaves me hopeful, but not as much as I’d like. (I will accept encouraging comments below as well.)